THE JACKAL
Inspired by a writing challenge generator; "The story must have a jackal in it. During the story, a character inherits some money."
The creature had crossed their path during Arthur's recent expedition to India. The air was hot and dry, and Merlin's skin felt unbearably sticky as the car rocked at a nauseating pace. Arthur didn't cease his relentless speed, and once again Merlin's head collided painfully with the roof in a dense, heavy thud. He bit back a yelp, and instead cradled his head between his knees.
"Goddamnit, Merlin, be careful," Arthur chastised, paying a worryingly tiny amount of attention on the sandy road as he switched carelessly through crackling radio stations.
"Ugh," Merlin grumbled. "I think you just killed a couple thousand brain cells there, you murderous pratt."
Arthur changed gears, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to some horrendously upbeat dance track. "I doubt you even had any brain cells in the first place," he hummed.
"You're one to talk," Merlin seethed, nursing the growing lump on his skull, and sucking on the cool air cascading from his wide open window. "Shit, look out!"
Arthur screeched to a halt, and his forehead hit the steering wheel with a horrendous crack. Merlin braced himself, wheezing as he became abruptly winded at the sharp shove in the hands of his life-saving seatbelt. He struggled to breath for a few seconds, gasping hoarsely in the heavy, dense air, before one shuddering gasp allowed oxygen to his lungs. It felt like sandpaper down his throat.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Merlin cried, scrambling to remove his seatbelt, and yet his fingers kept shaking. "Oh my god, oh my fucking god..." he almost sobbed.
The jackal continued to stand comfortably in the middle of the dirt road, his wise yellow eyes surveying the scene with little interest. His huge ear gave a minute twitch, and he wriggled her scrawny ginger frame as he scrambled away.
Merlin tore his gaze away from the animal. "Arthur, wake up," he cried, giving the limp body a careful nudge. Trickles of crimson coated Arthur's brow, thickly dribbling onto the steering wheel. "Come on, Arthur, wake up!"
He was rewarded with a slow moan, and the blonde-haired man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Mer...lin?" Arthur grunted, his eyes still firmly plastered shut.
"D-damnit! Arthur, I think you're concussed, I-I need you to open your eyes," Merlin shuddered, finally managing to relinquish the constricting hold of his seatbelt with a sharp click.
"Can't...slee...py..."
Merlin slapped him. It was the worst possible action in this situation, and he gave a swift panicked cry, quickly retracting his hand. However, it worked. Arthur's snapped to attention, still blearily blinking as the world swirled around him.
"Merlin," he barked. "Y...you id...idiot! I'm...I'm sodding well in...injured here!"
"Oh thank god," Merlin sighed, reaching to rub small, comforting circles on Arthur's back. "Sssh, don't waste your strength."
He swallowed thickly, surprised Arthur didn't retaliate, as his eyes darting like dragonflies on water. "Right, I need to get you to a hospital," Merlin finally spoke, still gently brushing the shoulder of Arthur's sweaty blue shirt. "We have to switch driving seats."
"Mmkay," Arthur sighed. "Get out of the way, Merlin."
Merlin almost laughed, and slowly, gradually opened the car door, continuing his gaze on Arthur's wobbling frame. His eyes caught an unfamiliar glint at the back of the car, and the sight before him made his jaw slack and eyes bulge.
"Holy flying motherfucking baboon shit," Merlin struggled. "Arthur, I know you're concussed and all, but look behind you. I think I might be dreaming."
Arthur blinked, turning his stiff neck as he focused his blurry gaze on the back seats. Gold, that was all he saw.
Gold coins in great heaps, the kind dragons might hoard in fairy tales, shining like thousands of tiny suns. A huge gold crown, heavy with inlaid jewels and swirling designs. A beautiful, sheathed sword smothered in polished gold, chunky emeralds, shimmering diamonds and fat rubies.
"Merlin..." Arthur murmured, "you...you truly do live up to your name."
I hope everyone sort of vaguely understood what was going on here. Everyone's been reincarnated, and the idea is that the jackal is Kilgharrah (the Dragon). Merlin, Arthur and Kilgharrah finally meet once again, and Kilgharrah returns everything he's stolen from Arthur's bloodline (since dragons like to hoard shiny expensive things in fairy tales).
And yeah, Arthur's filthy rich, so of course he'd go off exploring in India. XD