I listened to his voice as he wailed back. 

It was wordless. It was an animalistic wail, except that it was not made by an animal. It was not a human cry, for he was not human, either. It was not a dragon cry, for he was not a dragon. 

It was the cry of my friend. 

I have not seen him in three and a half years. 

I wailed back, a dragon’s wail. My wail told him how I missed his voice, his eyes, his love… our talks.

When I went silent, I was afraid I had made too much noise. But Dragon Little did not stir. I heard the villains stair, but at that moment I did not care. 

When I went silent, he wailed back, telling me how much he loved me and missed me, telling me how hard it was to wait. 

I cooed back, telling him his voice made me feel better, but how it also made me so sad. 

My voice cracked at the end and I cried. Tears fell from my eyes, huge, dragon tears.

And then he did not wail back. He spoke. No: He did not speak, he whispered. For he knew that I would hear him and he knew that no one else must.

“Wait…” he whispered. “Wait… Wait… Until she’s ready. Until she tells us she’s ready.” 

I made one more wail. A short one only to tell him I had heard him. 

And then I was silent. 

And the dream became silent. 

Except for the villains…

—Told by The Red Dragon