And the need to write more for this came back. Now, enjoy! No disclaimer this time. For long stories, I think I'll just use one of those.
And So, We Met Again
Our raid had been successful. We wouldn't go hungry this winter, I thought as I dropped a lamb down in the nest I built on a sturdy cliff in our five mountains, this one made specifically for Timberjack and Monstrous Nightmares only. My brothers had moved on to mate long ago, but I had yet to choose mine, so I remained single. It was good to be free, really. I don't need a bunch of bumbling dragonets to get into my way of doing things.
Stomach growling with hunger and the exhaustion of the adrenaline that had fueled my first raid, I gulped the animal down quickly, found it still not enough to satisfy my stomach but dismissed it for another time and curled up. With a deep breath, pleased with the temporary fillings and the warmth the mountain offers, I closed my eyes.
Before I could nod off like I wish to, though, the memory of that young human flashed across my mind again.
He sat silently, not seeming to care that other dragons might just swoop down and snatch him up for a meal anytime. His grey eyes were wide with fear, but along with it, grudging acceptance.
My eyes snapped open again. I snorted in annoyance at the memory. Now it wouldn't leave me alone, would it?
But thinking back, it really was weird to see the young human sitting like that. I know humans are not exactly on the intelligent side, but to sit on a rooftop in the middle of a dragon raid was just plain…madness.
It was like he had wanted to die.
The idea startled me for a second before I brushed it aside. Nah, it can't be that. The humans are stubborn enough to continue on trying to live here with all of us dragons around going to "borrow" their foods and strong enough to keep us hanging back from total destruction for some decades now.
That young human was one of their offspring. Why should he be any different than the rest of them?
Morning came slowly, sluggishly. The sun had decided to play hide and seek with the clouds, it seems, for I didn't see a ray of light until perhaps past midday. Winter was officially here, and even as I lied in my warm den, I could smell the cold wetness of snow before I opened my eyes and saw it.
Standing up and yawning, I stretched, swinging my tail around a few more times, took care not to hit any of the short-tempered Nightmares because of my natural length and size. Glancing upward, all I could see was falling snow and a patch of gray sky from the opening of the mountaintop. My nest hadn't been invaded by the white, fluffy thing thanks to the stone roof that jutted out right above it, supported by four hard pillars. At this rate of wind, however, it would be a matter of time before the winds sweep the snow into my home, get melted by my body heat and wet the entire thing with annoying water.
Grunting with discomfort at the looming future, I arched my long neck to look at the gray sky. It would probably be good to go hunting. I've finished the lamb to the bones already. Of course, I could've gone to ask for another lamb – we've caught plenty – but I wanted to exercise. It wouldn't be long before it gets too snowy to go anywhere without freezing half to death first anyway.
"Going somewhere?" a voice asked to my left as I prepared to launch myself into open air. I turned at the sound of it and hummed in amusement.
"Lavabreath, a joy to see that the humans hadn't beaten you down," I said to the speaker, my voice neutral. The speaker was known as the Blood-Drinker by the old and a legend of fear by the young. I have grown out of the habit of trembling whenever he speaks, but I couldn't get the nervous tingling out of my system even after all these years.
The ancient black-and-green Timberjack chuckled humorlessly. "Yes, I see that you are as grateful to know that I am safe and sound as always, fledging," he sneered, poking his head out from the cave-in on the wall next to my own nest, yellow eyes taking on an odd glint. "So, I assume you enjoy the humans' flesh?" he asked conversationally.
"No," I answered, getting ready to jump. "They smell horrible and their meat is gross. How can you even digest those things?"
I was a fifth through my leap when Lavabreath asked, "Fledging, ever tried the little ones' meat? They are more tender and sweeter."
That made me stop so suddenly I had to scrape at the rocky cliff edge for a moment of panic to steady myself, my tail lashing out and catching hold of a sturdy rock pillar. When I was sure I wouldn't fall over, I glanced at Lavabreath. Not because I mind the children-eating little ritual the old wyrm took on, mind you. No, that's his business to which he chooses to digest. A few more folks who won't grow up to challenge us and Thor do those two-legs grow fast.
It was just surprise, not horror. We usually try to keep the little ones, human or dragon, out of our ways. We often don't kill them until they start swinging axes and steels at us.
Dragon traditions, noble and never forgotten. If only those humans could think the same when they shattered my cousins' eggs.
"We don't eat the little ones," I said carelessly. "And I'm going to hunt."
"We eat whatever comes to hand," the older dragon answered nonchalantly like he was speaking of the weather. He tilted his head slightly in interest. "I thought you would've learned by now, dear fledging, that it is either 'eat the food or be the food'."
He was right. It really was the rule on this land. Eat or be eaten. Go mad or be killed by the mad. Slaughter everything that can harm you before it has a chance. I stared at him openly for a moment, then said lamely, "I don't think I will enjoy any human meat, Lavabreath. Not for awhile, at least. They are foul. All of them. They are all the same."
Lavabreath chuckled again, this time with a bit of interest and withdrew his head, so that it disappeared from sight. "It is your choice whether or not you decide to munch on some of those pathetic walking meat bags, dragoness," he said merrily, the tone sending a chill from my back to the tip of my tail. "Happy hunting." Then he retreated behind the pillar between us, out of sight.
I waited for another five seconds, but he said no more. Slowly, I tensed my legs again, folded in my wings and with a practiced leap, jumped into thin air.
As I was clear of the walls of my den, I snapped out my wings and let them catch the winds. Rising with the current of the wind, I left the nest to barrel into the gray icy sky.
They are foul. All of them. They are all the same.
Except for that little human child. What is up with him?
The deer was trying to pull up the last of the yellowed grass from the ground even as snow started covering up the soft earth, sending the seeds into sleep until Spring arrives. I will have to hunt these deer now or risk waiting until spring, since they will go into a hungry state for the rest of the five-month-long winter and there will be nothing but bones for me to chew on.
Slowly, carefully, I crept toward the prey, my footprints silenced by the building snow, my eyes wide. The deer was too busy to see anything. With its eyesight, it certainly wouldn't see a black-gray dragoness lurking around it until it was too late. Well, it shouldn't.
Closer. Closer. Forty meters. Twenty. Ten. I can hear the heartbeats. I can almost taste the warm, sweet blood of the prey…
"YA-A-A!" a shout echoed from up the slope to my left. I jerked back in surprise, heart in my throat (oh, yes, great dragon I am) as the deer didn't even look back but bounced away just as a figure clad in bearskins came charging down the slope and landed on the place where the deer had just stood. The weak sunlight from the sky glinted off of steel from the stick he was holding. It was a ball with spikes on it; a mace.
My instinct screamed at me to back away, spit fire; kill it, whatever, but my mind and the hard-ingrained lessons of hunting from my parents kept me frozen in place. Moving will make yourself known, my mother had said, whacking me repeatedly to make sure that it got into my brain.
It was a human, I realized as soon as conscious thoughts started flowing freely again. A male, probably, looking at the bulge of it, and judging by the stature, it was young. Not much older than fifteen years or perhaps less. These Vikings' bodies had the tendency to outgrow their brains by far. What is with that?
"Yeah, you go, Keg!" another shout echoed from up the slope. The voice was rough and raw but lighter than those deep-chest screams the adults often shot out in a raid. A young male, then, if not a female with a throat mutation.
There were more footsteps before six more of the little folks slid down the slope to join this one, who, as I observed, outmatched a ten-year-old hatchling in sheer size if not intelligence. He was bulky and wrapped in so many layers of fur to keep himself warm that it made me wonder that if I eat him, how much of it will be fur instead of meat.
The rest were about the same except for some who stood taller than others. As they cheered and slapped each other's palms, I started to wonder how much of meat they were worth beneath all the furs the wimpy humans needed for protection. Probably not much. And they scared away my preys.
Are all the young ones born to be obnoxious?
"That's so close, too!" a thinner male with front teeth that poked out of his lips grinned oddly. "Two more seconds and you could've nailed that deer."
Without the noises you make that makes a lovesick Gronkle burn with jealousy, I thought sullenly, imagining the sweet taste of blood and victory had these fools not intervened. Then I licked my lips. Four little males against a dragoness. The odds were on my side if I am to attack, but the rules…
No, the rules said to avoid to kill the young ones, not harm them. Biting off a limb or two will not be considered a terrible violation of the traditions, will it not? Besides, who's here to watch? Far as I know, several more hungry dragons were wandering around at the moment, so I didn't see a reason why I shouldn't listen to Lavabreath and check out hatchling flesh.
"You do realize that you are standing in dragon's territory, right?" a higher-pitched voice called from up the slope, stopping me from going forward. This one was most likely a female's judging from its height.
The burly moron who'd startled away the deer – my deer! – snorted in derision. "Aw, c'mon, Alfdis, will you quit worrying about those beasts and come down here?" he demanded, kicking up some snow with one of his round legs. "See? There's no dragon here! Those beasts are probably sitting on their stupid haunches and eating our foods that they'd stolen." The tone was bitter.
You are honing for a fireball in your face, pest. I shifted slightly, taking care not to make any of the gathered snow on my body fall down, narrowing my eyes and trying to hold in my brewing rage. Beasts? Look at the ones who are talking.
"How do you know?" the female voice came again, this time laden with anger and exasperation. "You know how good at camouflaging some of them are! And they might just be hunting for fun! And they can kill us all in minutes, too."
The fur snorted again. "I've killed dragons before, Alfdis, and I know when one of those monsters is near. Don't you trust me?" His five friends nodded their heads and mumbled agreements.
Another voice spoke, this one a little bit deeper than the female's tone and was light-hearted. "Well, I was considering we should trust you, but after that wonderful dealing with the Nadder - which, shall I remind you, is not slayed; it's just a dragonet - I'm rethinking."
The rude male's face changed color into a cherry red (how in Thor did the humans do that? – it was fascinating) and he shouted back, "Shut your mouth until you can properly swing a mace properly, Pine-needle!"
"My sword is enough to toss you off of Death Rock's southern cliff, Bull-face. I don't need a bulky mace to do the dirty work for me."
The male's face turned even redder, if that was possible, as I watched the exchange with growing interest. Who knew human exchanges could be so fascinating?
Just as the male opened his mouth to retort, however, some snow got into my nostrils and before I could hold it in, I sneezed loudly. Oops.
All eyes turned toward me. One second, two seconds…
"DRAGON!" one of the six, a very, very round one, shouted out before taking off running up the slope while the others followed frantically. The last one – the one who talked big – threw his mace at me as he spotted me among the now snow-covered black trees. Or actually, he probably saw two big blue eyeballs instead of me, since my striped scales often make it hard for humans to see in a winter forest even at close range. Addition noting: human senses decrease sharply in a panic.
I blew a tiny, lazy ball of fire at the weapon and sent it flying backward before leaping out of my hiding place, roaring. Time for the chase. I was getting cramps after all.
With a pathetic yelp, the fur ball dove for cover in a cave on the wide slope that even I missed (probably because it was way too small for a dragon and not because of my eyesight) while I clawed at the opening, roaring and enjoying the fear-scent that penetrated the snow.
There were whimpers from the cave, and when I picked my head up, building up gas for a fireball that would cook the offensive youngling alive – who cares about the traditions anymore – when I caught sight of the black figure standing on top of the slope.
Penetrating gray eyes set in a pale smooth face topped with raven hair met mine for a moment, awed, fearful and enthralled, before they went to the cave and he probably heard the whimpers as well. He looked one more time at me then returned to the cave, body still frozen.
"SOMEBODY!" the voice that had just mocked my kind shouted out. "HELP!" It was near sobbing now.
The young, short male clad in black clothes and fur coat and boots looked hesitant for a moment. Then with a quick, nimble move of his hand, he had withdrawn a knife and sent it flying toward me.
On instinct, I released the pending gas in my mouth to blast it at the coming steel, melting it instantly. When the fire died down, the hatchling was gone. Narrowing my eyes, I could see him run with incredible speed away from me, away from the slope.
Slight anger boiled in me. Nobody throws something pointy at a dragon and outruns her. Definitely not me.
Roaring, I leaped onto the slope easily and darted after the offender. A small part of my mind registered that it was the curious child I've seen before, but the bigger part, the part that said no self-esteemed dragon would let a human go loose after trying to hurt him, shouted loudly for me to catch him, to show him what I am capable of.
I obliged.