The next morning.
Jon, lying against Frostflame’s body, took a deep breath.
The frigid air filled his lungs, carrying the faint scent of burned pine and instantly clearing away the last traces of sleep.
Frostflame was already awake, sprawled on the ground and dozing in the morning sun.
Her scales gleamed silver-white beneath the light, as though dusted with a thin layer of frost.
She yawned, revealing teeth large enough to pierce a bear, while the hot breath from deep within her jaws condensed into white mist in the cold air.
Jon rose and studied her enormous body from top to bottom.
His gaze traveled slowly from her shoulders along her spine before settling on her folded wings as he considered how he was supposed to climb onto her back.
“I should have asked Maester Aemon how to do this before we left,” Jon said helplessly.
“It’s not quite the same as mounting a horse, is it?” Benjen laughed, folding his arms across his chest.
Thorne studied the enormous creature thoughtfully, rubbing his chin without realizing it.
“I’d say the best place is at the base of the neck, or a little farther back.
You could also try climbing up by way of the wing or shoulder.”
Jon could think of no better approach, so he walked over to Frostflame, his boots crunching softly through the snow.
Frostflame watched him curiously, her pupils narrowing slightly.
Jon came to her side and first stroked the tip of her snout, then ran his hand along her neck toward her shoulder and back.
Only when he stood directly beside her did he realize that climbing onto the enormous dragon would be far more difficult than he had imagined.
His gaze shifted toward her wings.
When folded, Frostflame’s wings rested fairly close to the ground.
The membranes appeared faintly blue-white in the sunlight, with a fine network of blood vessels clearly visible beneath them.
Compared with trying to climb directly onto her shoulder or back, this seemed the only practical way up.
Jon grasped one of the thick wing bones with both hands, feeling its rough surface beneath his palms.
Carefully, he stepped onto it and began climbing.
Frostflame seemed puzzled by what he was doing.
She twisted her neck slightly and gave him a sidelong look.
He kept his center of gravity low with every step.
The moment he reached her back, however, the body beneath him suddenly shifted.
Jon sucked in a sharp breath as he was thrown against the hard scales.
A numb ache spread across his back, and he hurriedly grabbed whatever he could find.
Frostflame slowly rose, her powerful hind legs bracing against the snow as her massive body lifted from the ground.
To Jon, it felt as though the entire world had begun to sway beneath him.
Near the end of two deep gray ridges along her neck was a narrow gap.
Jon inched forward along her spine, his knuckles turning white from the effort, then wedged himself between the two ridges.
Half his body fit snugly into the space, almost as though it had been made for him.
Frostflame tilted her head to look at him, then suddenly crouched.
Jon’s heart jolted.
“Oh, no.
I’m not ready yet!”
The white dragon sprang upward.
The moment her wings beat against the ground and carried her into the air, a tremendous blast of wind struck Jon head-on, nearly robbing him of breath.
He hurriedly seized two thick spines along her neck, his fingernails digging into his palms.
His knees clamped tightly around her body as he flattened himself against her back.
Beneath him, he could feel every beat of Frostflame’s heart, steady and powerful like the pounding of an enormous drum.
Each beat of her wings sent her body rising and falling beneath him.
Before Jon had even recovered from the shock, the campfire below had already shrunk to an insignificant speck.
Frostflame roared, the sound making his eardrums ache.
The freezing wind struck his face so fiercely that he could barely keep his eyes open.
Tears streamed from their corners, only to be swept away almost at once.
Then Frostflame suddenly banked to one side.
“Ah…
I…”
The whole world seemed to tilt beneath Jon.
His heart leapt into his throat as he desperately clung to the dragon’s back, nearly thrown from the sky.
By the time he managed to steady himself, his chest was heaving and his breathing came as hard and fast as the bellows in Winterfell’s smithy.
Then Frostflame suddenly dove.
Weightlessness seized his entire body.
His stomach lurched as the snow-covered ground rushed toward him at terrifying speed, the forests, hills, and snow-covered rocks swelling rapidly in his vision.
Just before they reached the ground, Frostflame spread her wings again.
The air boomed around them, and waves of wind burst outward.
Her enormous body skimmed over the treetops, sending snow swirling high into the air.
Jon instinctively gripped the spines behind her neck and pulled slightly to the left.
Frostflame actually responded.
The dragon gave a long, delighted cry, turned smoothly in that direction, and began climbing once more.
High above the ground, the vast snowfields spread beneath them.
Mountains rolled away into the distance, while Frostflame’s cave appeared as nothing more than a dark speck hidden among the peaks.
A smile slowly spread across Jon’s face.
So this was what it felt like to fly.
They remained in the air for more than an hour.
At first, Jon could do little more than cling desperately to Frostflame’s back.
Gradually, however, he began to understand the rhythm of her wingbeats, turns, and dives.
The wind roared constantly in his ears, leaving his cheeks numb with cold, while he continued experimenting with how best to guide her.
He learned when to tighten his legs and when to relax his body.
Every small movement brought a different response from Frostflame.
It would take a long time before he could truly call himself a Dragonrider.
But at least he had taken the first step.
Jon decided they had done enough for the day and guided Frostflame toward the open ground near the cave.
When she landed, Frostflame folded her wings and skidded a long distance across the snow.
Jon struggled down from her back, awkwardly sliding along her wing toward the ground.
He nearly pitched face-first into the snow and only managed to stay upright by clutching the wing beside him.
The muscles in his legs and abdomen burned fiercely, every movement pulling painfully at them.
He had barely taken two breaths when Frostflame suddenly lowered her head and gently nudged his shoulder with her warm snout.
The shove was not particularly hard, yet it nearly knocked him off balance.
Her amethyst eyes watched him with what looked suspiciously like pride.
As though she were boasting about the flight they had just shared.
Jon stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing.
“By the Old Gods, you nearly killed me.”
Frostflame gave a low rumble from her throat and thumped her tail against the snow.
She did not look remotely sorry.
“Ow.”
Jon grimaced in pain but slowly made his way back toward the campfire.
The blast from Frostflame’s takeoff had long since buried the fire in snow, leaving only a few blackened marks visible on the surface.
Benjen and Thorne waited until Jon had moved away from Frostflame before hurrying over.
Frostflame seemed unconcerned.
She turned aside and began worrying at a loose scale on her wing with her teeth, her tail idly sweeping through the snow and sending clouds of powder into the air.
“Next time you decide to take off without warning, at least let us know first!”
Benjen complained irritably.
“I thought you were only trying to climb onto her back!”
“That was Frostflame’s idea, not mine,” Jon said, still wincing as he slowly rubbed his aching thighs.
“But I learned a great deal.
I’ve already begun to work out how to guide her.
A few more attempts, and I should get the hang of it.”
Thorne’s gaze remained fixed on Frostflame in the distance as she lowered her head to lick at her scales.
“That was far too dangerous.
You nearly fell.”
Benjen let out a long breath, his shoulders finally relaxing.
Frostflame studied the three of them for a moment, seemingly amused.
A nearly mischievous glint appeared in her amethyst eyes.
Then she suddenly leapt into the air, deliberately whipping up a freezing gust that showered all three of them in snow.
Loose powder slipped down their collars and against their necks.