Breath parted from dry and cracked lips, scattering the ashen crystals that lay upon the charred ground in a film of glittering death. Wisps of fire cracked along the distant skyline, echo strong and everlasting as the blaze sputtered out black smoke which had blended with the cold night sky. The cloud of ash was so intense it was suffocating, and had blocked out the twin moons of this strange world, tainting the air.
She breathed, yet she did not need to. It would be merciful to not breathe, for the crystalline ash fluttered within her breath and stung her throat and lungs. Indeed, the fiery snow coated her blood kissed hair, paling the color to a dull, tasteless grey as she lay prone upon the ground. Fair skin was charred and caked with a grim of filth, blood and cinder, though it was nothing she took notice to-nor to her attire-which was burnt, torn, and shredded by ravenous reptilian claws.
In truth, the woman could not tell if she were dead or alive. The pain she had felt from the dragon's flame and putrid talons indicated she was, in fact, alive. But her heart said otherwise, for it did not beat. A strange occurrence, but it did not matter. No, it did not matter.
Her crimson irises hid behind closed lids, the smoke and ash irritating her eyes. Slowly she revealed her gaze, pupils glowing and illuminating the harsh light of the flames. Up, down, all around they were, the forest set ablaze by savage breath. The fires hurt her sensitive sight, and as much as she wanted to close them, she could not. She was not ready to die. Not yet.
Muscles stiff and body sore, the woman slowly shifted, feeling her fingers still tightly clutching the grip of the 10mm pistol under her weight. They were so tight she had lost all feeling in her fingers. Slowly, her other hand reached outwards and clawed upon the ash, glittering like enraged snow. She cinders burnt her calloused hands, yet the captive ashes fell from her grasping hand in lazy chucks or fine powders, staining her palm.
Pain wrung out from her side, the talons of a drake having skewered her attire and flesh. It was of a concern, yes, but she had far greater things to worry about. Ash was applied to the wound. The wound would slow in blood flow. The slow of blood flow would be less likely to attract them. But she knew better. They would come. Just like they always would. And she would kill them. Not because she had to, but because they were all she had, and she was all they had. Who ever claimed a mother could not kill her own children could never have been so wrong. Not when it meant saving a very select few.
The woman's knees shifted, and she stiffly rose to her feet, calves shaking. She would have been lying if she claimed she did not hear it-or rather-feel it. The presence of the beast. The dragon's guttural breath stank of decay and blood, serpentine tongue flickering upon her ash laden hair and nape.
Her grip upon the pistol tightened, and in one swift motion, the woman pushed upon the barrel of the small handgun, a single bullet springing into the chamber. Skillfully, gracefully she had pivoted, and aimed the barrel at the beast as it breathed, wrath and smoke pouring from its open maw.
For a brief moment, there was silence.
For an eternity, there lay oblivion.
Broken by one sound:
Fire.
The After Burn
Chapter One down, an unknown amount to go. I only own what I own; which is this plot, and the woman. It will make much more sense as time goes on. Trust me.
Either way, I needed to write something. Anything. So I wrote this. I need more ambition to get writing again. You kiddies have fun. Thank you.