Hi, guys. Spirit of Fury here.
So, this is my first story. (Never Afraid is a drabble, it doesn't count) I've already written up to Chapter 10, but I really want to see what the world thinks of my writing before I go anywhere.
Ok, so Rakkaan (who is our main character here) wouldn't stop complaining about how she wanted to do the prologue. For the simple reasoning that if I let her win, the battle in my brain ends before it even starts and I avoid a headache, I said yes. If you are all ok with this, I'll hand over to our esteemed young friend now.
I'm hungry, so I'll talk a little at the end. Right now. . . it's snack time.
Prologue
It's a dragon's life out here. It's dangerous; seriously, I barely go a moon cycle without something trying to kill me. If it isn't enough that this incredibly weird world continues to throw countless angry inhabitants at me, it seems that I am expected to endure an environment equally as cruel and unforgiving. Think about it; I live in a world that regularly experiences blizzards so thick you could swim in them, only has three seasons, and produces storms that can make even the bravest of the brave turn tail. Plus, did I mention I'm a teenager? Yeah, I live alone, with no-one to stand by me. Classic tale of tragedy, am I right?
So . . . I guess I should shut up and let you hear my story. Get comfy—you'll regret it later if you don't.
Right, if you are ready, then it's on with the show! Fury, give 'em the chapter . . . Fury? . . . Fury! Where did that bloody sneaky kid go?
Chapter 1 – Dreams
Rakkaan plunged through the heavy mist, rocketing in the direction of the cliff; her last stand-by. Her heart pounded relentlessly against her aching ribs, and she gasped for air that simply would not come fast enough. Cuts from unfriendly plant-life and their "owner" oozed dark, glistening blood. She took a turn sharp enough to make her head spin, and winced at the new pain that seemed to erupt from inside her skull. Her tail stung in fresh agony as it collided with a tree. Still, she forced herself onwards.
Rakkaan desperately tried to bite back a howl as another thorn bush sliced through the pads of her fore-paws. Spots danced blurrily before her eyes, twinkling in mocking of her struggle. More of the hot liquid she so badly needed trickled into the earth, leaving a trail of red. Her bruised and battered body begged to stop, but the menacing thud of footfalls close behind kept the injured teen moving. Unable to contain the cry of pain, she tripped and rolled under a tree, partially hidden by the large boulder she had been felled by.
The rush of heavy footsteps loomed closer, daring her to give away her pathetic hiding spot. They were so close. Surely he could hear her ragged breathing. But no, the angry male trudged right on by, muttering curses and smashing through thorn bushes as though they weren't covered in cruel spines. He probably couldn't feel them at all with a hide as thick and armoured as his.
As the sounds of his departure faded, Rakkaan sighed. She looked over herself, licking at her paw as she did. The bleeding stopped almost immediately as her saliva soaked into the raw cut. A cool, numb sensation spread through it, allowing her to feel the pain of her other injuries. Rakkaan stifled a groan of discomfort as she dragged her tail into view and surveyed the bruise on it. Gods, like I don't have enough to worry about! She reached out and tentatively poked the dent—a hiss of self-pity whistled through her teeth immediately.
The thorns had scratched her up pretty badly. Thin, bleeding lines snaked all over her back, sides, wings and head. Rakkaan scowled at them.
Suddenly, an angry roar ripped through the atmosphere. Rakkaan leapt to her feet—a movement she almost instantly regretted as newly formed scabs came away—and leapt as quietly as she could away from the boulder. She zigzagged rapidly for a few spans, then shakily flapped over a particularly mean patch of thorns, heading as fast as she could for the cliff. As Rakkaan hobbled and staggered toward her destination the un-nerving roars grew louder, keeping her at a terrified lope.
Too soon her heart was hammering unevenly again, air wheezing roughly in and out of her lungs, depriving her brain of oxygen. Her vision blurred once more. Gods, you're unfit, Rakkaan, a mocking voice in her head taunted.
When the cliff finally came into view, hope soared from deep within Rakkaan's throbbing chest. Her legs forgot to complain at the terrible onslaught of rough terrain they had pounded so mercilessly over. Her head cleared some, allowing her to see straight once more. Finally! A tiny voice shrieked inside her brain with joy, and started to dance in celebration. But then a bone-chilling yowl echoed menacingly from the fog behind Rakkaan, spurring her into action.
With a steadying breath, the teenager charged toward the edge . . . and dove straight over. Her pursuer arrived at the rocky outcrop mere moments later, bursting out of the forest quicker than a demon fleeing the wrath of the gods. He cursed loudly. Not a single trace remained of his prey, save for a lingering, jumbled scent and a faint echo of her last whistle. He looked down at his talons. Flecks of dark liquid splattered the ground all around the expanse of dirt and rock.
Unknown to the foul creature, Rakkaan stood stiffly within firing range of him. The teenager kept a wary eye fixed above her, searching the rock for any signs of movement. The beastly young male cursed colourfully again, making Rakkaan flinch. She listened intently as he scuffled around the bare outcrop for a while, barely allowing herself to breathe. Suddenly his thundering footsteps stopped. His slimy voice permeated the air, echoing down through the rocks in such a fashion that it distorted horribly. The words oozed through her being like the blood from her cuts. She shuddered violently, and her breath caught in her throat. When they finally sunk in, Rakkaan vowed never to return to the island ever again. The male stalked around the cliff edge for another small eternity, then gave up and turned tail. Only when his snarled complaints and footfalls grew too faint to hear did she dare breathe again.
A heavy sigh escaped her. 'Too close. Far, far too close,' she mumbled to herself. As she allowed her aching body to relax, she glanced back at her wings, which were cheerily decorated with a hollering chorus of thorn-marks. They had saved her, and she hadn't been very stable in her flight. You couldn't blame her; she was five years from maturity. Despite being shock-proof, she had learned the hard way that young dragons weren't indestructible. Rakkaan had only got back in the air properly a month ago—before that it was gliding desperately with the incentive of freezing river rapids to keep her airborne. A flicker of remembered pain fizzed through her port wing. The young dragoness' ears drooped pathetically at the memories it had brought.
If only Tulinen were still— 'No! Don't you dare think about it!' Her claws ripped through the stone beneath her like it was soft wood. We'll kill that bastard for what he did. We'll rip out his eyes and tear off his wings and leave him for dead . . . After we roast him from the inside out. 'Yes. . .' Rakkaan spat.
With a tremendous effort, she forced the ugly thoughts from her mind, re-burying them as deep as she could go. Once she had re-emerged, the young dragoness began to clean and seal her many wounds. She sat for more than an hour, fussing over the uglier gashes and trying to cover every last cut with a generous seal of saliva. It was messy, painstaking work; blood pooled around her as she made progress, reopening wounds where necessary. Once she was satisfied, Rakkaan moved and chose to stare at the shining orbs that littered the night sky. Stars held a lot of meaning for the young'un. While most just saw them and never thought twice, Rakkaan was mesmerised by their ethereal beauty, those untouchable lights so far beyond her reach, yet still close by. The stars had always been her escape, and always would be. She had sworn it that first night of loneliness.
Hours later, a sleep-crafted sigh slipped from her maw, her eyes only seeing the constellations she loved so dearly in her dreams. The raven-black contours of the lone dragoness' form relaxed, melting further into the darkness. If anyone had come across the slumbering Fury, they might have sworn the very rocks had come to life. If they had known better, they would have fled as quietly as possible. The more stupid and daring may have stayed to watch the feared species, so they might brag about just how brave they were. That is, if they survived the encounter.
Idiotic dragons.
Unfortunately for Rakkaan, those star-filled dreams would quickly turn into nightmares. The same ones she had the majority of nights during her existence as a lone Fury. The ones that left her blood roaring and her nerves dancing a precarious jig that bordered hysterics. The slumped form tensed in the moonlight, the pale rays reflecting slightly off her maturing scales. As the dream twisted, Rakkaan moaned. Despite her hatred of the nightmares, she was going to be glad for these later.
It wasn't so much that she experienced the nightmare than watched it. There was dark liquid everywhere, and a very exhausted Rakkaan slugged and sloshed and splashed through it. Rakkaan could sense her counterpart's emotions. Despair and confusion reigned. A sense of soul-crushing loss also echoed through their link, but this time, it felt different. Rakkaan knew that, and it made no sense to her. She had been familiar with loss for most of her life, but there was something . . . new. As if the dream her had never felt it before. The agony of the pain in her counterpart's heart threatened to rip her apart from the inside. Then Rakkaan saw them. Glistening sharply in the other Rakkaan's eyes were tears. They burst from the dam of her self-control and rolled freely down her face, hanging momentarily from her top lip before plummeting into the expanse of dark liquid. Without any warning, multitudes of dragon bodies appeared, and the dark liquid found a current that tugged at the mourning dragoness' legs. All sorts of pale, mangled forms drifted slowly by, from Warbling Spine-shooters to Owl-faced Hidden-wings to hatchling Fierce Fledglings. Then Rakkaan suddenly found herself—well, the other her—standing over a body on the bank. It wasn't just any dragon, the horrified dragoness discovered; it was a Fury. Among all the dead, the large male was gasping horribly, air wheezing in and out of his punctured lung. Blood leaked from his raw wounds, but through some innate strength he lifted his head to gaze at the other her.
'Rakkaan,' he rasped. 'Please, find him—' the dragon the other her kept thinking was named Vihreä was cut off as he coughed hard, spitting up blood. 'He can help. . . I need . . . need him. Please, Rakkaan.'
Dream her nodded, tears still streaming. 'I will. Just hang on.' Rakkaan watched herself leap into the air with a frightening conviction and tear off into the darkness, roaring something she couldn't really understand. A name, perhaps.
Vihreä moaned suddenly, his less twisted wing curling in painfully close. He desperately pressed it to the gaping hole in his side, which seeped blood a similar shade to the sticky life that had permeated the river and stained it so. Rakkaan felt sick as she continued to look down at his suffering form. Before she could really react to his anguished cries, a scream ripped the world apart. The other Rakkaan rocketed toward him. But she was alone. Whoever he had needed her to find wasn't there. 'I'm sorry, Vihreä. I can't. . .' Her voice trailed as it broke, and she huddled close to the dying male. She stayed still for a long time, tears still falling. The dragoness shook violently as her tears turned to choking sobs and Vihreä weakly stretched a wing over her. They lay together, a pool of sorrow and darkness in a red-stained world. Suddenly, Vihreä's breathing turned more ragged, and his green eyes rolled so far back that the pupils had completely disappeared. 'Vihreä? Vihreä! No! Stay with me, please! Don't leave! Just hold on a little longer!' His whole body tensed. 'No! No, please! Don't do this to me, Vihreä!' The great Fury shuddered beside her, then went completely limp. 'Vihreä! No! No no no no no! Vihreä please!' The young dragoness sagged against him, giving a final nudge. 'Please. . .' she whispered.
Rakkaan gasped and leapt to her feet in a flash of darkness. Droplets of water hurtled abusively from the black on black clouds above, bouncing off her scales and seeping through to chill her already cold bones. She hissed at the storm and fluorescent blue lightning flashed in an angry response, punctuated by a solid boom from the clouds that sheltered it. Surely the world could leave her in peace for one night. One, freaking, night. Rakkaan snarled as thunder roared again, then spread her wings and glanced skyward.
With a final curse thrown at nature, the young Fury bounded up, flapping as hard as she could force her tired and stiffened muscles. She quickly discovered that it simply hurt too much for a clean, vertical ascent, so she took to spiralling and clawing up small ledges and cursing the rain-slick rock.
Only when she had made the last overhang and scurried under a tree did she think of the nightmare. That same, stupid nightmare that flashed through her head occasionally after escaping another monstrous tyrant of a dragon.
Whoever Vihreä really was, whatever had happened that had twisted her memories like that, must have suffered greatly. But then something dawned on her, and she shoved the idea away. How many dragons had she lost, how many dragons had died because of her? Their faces flashed through her mind, some still living, but most a re-surfacing image of their contorted faces in death. Ashbringer, Kell, Tulinen, Ochre, Snowbird, Iceflower, Red Terror, Tähti, Tumma, Atlas, North, her heart wrenched at the next faces, faded with the age of the memory, and still smouldering with pain. River and Stormcloud. Her parents.
Yes, that had to be it. She had experienced too much death, too much sorrow and hurt too early. She was bloody cursed, or at least felt that way. The deaths haunted her waking life as well as her dreams, and Rakkaan was almost certain that if something didn't change, she was going to go insane. The betrayals were all too fresh, wounds to her soul that still bled. Her past manipulated her outlook, Rakkaan knew that well enough. She had given up on trusting dragons the day Tulinen had been murdered. As far as dragons go, Furies were the most suspicious and conservative. The young dragon could have probably put most of her kin to shame if they were ever compared. Last year she hadn't even trusted the water in the lake once she found out that a certain Timberjack controlled the territory.
The rain pattered on, drumming out a beat that pounded relentlessly in Rakkaan's skull, even after she had fallen asleep.
A/N; So. . .
Should I continue to write this?
I do not care if I have to get off my comfy chair, on my knees, and grovel at your feet. I beg you to please review. Even just a short one. It means the world to me.
Wait, scratch that. It means Dakota to me, because he is one of the most important things in my world.
. . .
Please?
Also, Rakkaan wanted to say something.
Hey there. . . strange humans. Um, uh. . . (wow this is tougher than I thought it would be) Um.
Wait, I've got it!
Look, guys, this may seem a little boring and everything, but Fury really wants to go somewhere with this story. I know there is no Toothless in here yet, and that is probably what you were looking for, but I promise, he is a huge part of this story. It's just. . . a little hard to see, unless you know what to look for. For his sake, and Fury's, stick around!
Right! Thank you, Rakkaan, for that inspirational speech. Bye, now.
Spirit of Fury
Remember, review!