Maps

George dropped his bag on the rocky ground and sat on one of the small boulders beside it, leaning forward to dig through the bag and pull out his map of the area. It was uncharted territory, at least by humans, and he was working on traveling through what had been deemed as the wastelands and chronicling what he found in them to the best of his ability. He was exhausted from the day's journey, his clothes soaked through with sweat, and he pulled his shirt off and cast it aside in hopes that it would dry as he drew.

The air around him was hot and muggy, but he had long since gotten used to the feeling. Most had called him crazy for wanting to explore into such uncharted territory, but in his own opinion, the wastelands had been both good to him and for him. The travels and work he put in had made him strong and enduring, and the sun had been long on his back, tanning his skin. He imagined that when he returned many would no longer recognize him. But he was dedicated to his work.

As he drew, he rested his back against the hard surface that had risen to meet him. It was tough, especially on his bare skin, but as with many things on his journey, he had grown to be comfortable with this. He had been traveling and working for nearly a year now - more than enough time for one's entire life to be turned upside down.

You are most fortunate that I can remember things so well. The voice spoke directly into George's mind, but he did not so much as flinch, unperturbed from his work. It was a familiar and friendly voice. One he had long since come to rely upon.

"What I am fortunate of," he responded, "is that you are so willing to assist me."

The dragon's head lifted up from the ground and curled around to look at George from the side. He was resting against it's side, sitting on the rock which it had wrapped its tail around, and the heat it exuded filled the air, steaming the shirt that George had discarded. It eyes were thin and golden, and its scales as dark as the rocks it rested upon. Anyone who did not know it was there would not have noticed its presence. But George had been the dragons companion for nearly a year.

Yes, it replied, I suppose you are. There are not many dragons who would be so fond of a human as I. And fewer yet who would have the patience for such a dull and boring task as yours.

George smiled and continued to draw. "Dull to dragons, perhaps, but not to humans. This is valuable information to have. And especially for one as curious as me. But you know that already. And I am just glad to have found a dragon old and tired enough to enjoy the kind of lifestyle and partnership that I can provide."

The dragon puffed a hot blast of smoke and air from its nostrils before laying its head down. You were quite lucky, I suppose. But what will you do if I am the one who will die first?

"Aside from bemoan the loss of a good friend?" He could feel the dragon's smile. "I will probably have to give up mapmaking for one. Your memory and our connection is too essential to my works."

And then what will you do?

George looked out over the landscape. The two were sitting atop a high plateau overlooking the wasteland's deep and long valley. "With so little left," he said quietly, "I suppose I will just have to pray that I am not long behind you."

There was a long pause after that, and George went back to his work.

Perhaps we shall simply have to go onto the next world together.

"Yes. I think I would rather enjoy that."