(A/N: Okay...not much going on here imo but! I like it, and if I like it, then I did good. Mostly character growth and some plot but lots of exposition. :D I hope y'all enjoy this like I did! Expect a chapter of Defying the Norm up soon, since I've been working on that too. I should work on Penitence & Patience, Glitches & Viruses but I'm stuck on an idea for DtN and it's eating me alive!
Pro tip: if you want me to update a certain story, bombard me with reviews!)
I woke as the first rays of His Bright Eye brushed down into the Fire Mouth. Midgard was damp with His Tears and His Breath hung low, making the temperature unbearably cold. I need to warm up... I stretched out my body, mindful of my injuries, and yawned loudly. My stomach made its desires known by loudly complaining and it was all I could do to not throw myself into the lake with wild abandon. Patience...patience is key.
Patience left me with three fish and a thoroughly soaked hide. "Three," I muttered as I created a bed of coals in the same spot I slept on last night, "three damn fish. At this rate I'll be dead before a Blink-Cycle is up." I rolled around in the coals until my external temperature rose to acceptable levels, then I shook off the ash and began inspecting my wounds and testing my flexibility and reflexes. If that Skenndar cub came back, I needed to be ready to defend myself.
The places where I had rubbed my scales off trying to escape were still raw, though they were clean and healing. The scrapes from when I fell to Midgard were healing quite nicely and scales were beginning to return to the abrasions. My breathing was less restricted than yesterday and I was able to turn sharply without any complications so the fractures had to be healing okay. I'd try for an Alteration Tha'um later to strengthen and speed the healing process later, once I'd had more food. My tailfin was, sadly, still severed; though the cauterising of the wound was a smart idea, as there was a small infection on the corner I didn't get. I picked at it with a flame-heated fang and seared it closed. The hissing of the pus evaporating filled my ears and I could not, for the life of me, hold back the whimper of pain.
"Great Father!" I swore as I turned somersaults and did flips to test my manoeuvrability. The pain of my internal injuries was still there, though less severe than they would be if I weren't a Guard.
Attackers are renowned for their strength, Scouts for their speed, but the Guards are renowned for their adaptability. For if we cannot protect the Great Mother as we are, we will change until we are fit to do so.
I rested on my now barely-Fire temperature coals and tried to pass the time while I remembered the best Alteration Tha'um to fix my injuries by watching His Breath pass by in His Underbelly above. "That one looks like a prongbeast..." I could use renforzer but...no. I always botch that one. Last time I tried it, my spines were jagged for a Blink-Cycle... "And that one looks like a One Who Speaks Twice biting themselves." ...bandhin? That could wor—no, wait...I can't actually use that one...dammit! "Those three look like a clutch of One Who Reap Death eggs." āch would work if I were near a better source of water and light. bracchīon is too specific and I have no formal Alteration training so it would be foolish to try. "That is a hopbeast." The only one I could work right is spēwan and even that as a long-shot. I'm starting to wish I was better at Alteration Tha'um...
The featherbeasts called out as they fluttered above me which alerted me to the time. "Great," I groaned, taking note of His Bright Eye's position in His Underbelly, "I've already wasted almost half the Bright-Cycle. Not good...not good..."
I rolled over, wincing at the soreness of stiff muscles, and stood up. A sudden and sharp snapping sound alerted me to something approaching my position. Judging by the angle of the sound from where I was sitting, it was about fifty paces downwind from me. I slipped down so I was belly-to-the-ground and slunk over towards the source. The wind shifted and I got a strong whiff of ash, fire, trees, Ringing Midgard, and...
Fish!
But...why did the Skenndar cub have fish with him?! What are you playing at? I slipped over to a piece of Midgard above the cub's eye-level and hunkered down so he wouldn't see me.
"Ugh...Ég trúi ekki að ég er að gera þetta...ég þarf að vera hnetur," the cub yipped loudly. Was he alone? Who was he communicating with? Were Skenndar smart enough to communicate?
When he came into view, he was hidden behind a large not-scale made of tree and Ringing Midgard, clearly alone. "Hiksti," he churred, "Þegar þú skjóta niður dreka, ekki fara að leita að því. Ef þú gerir það, drepa drekann. Ef þú drepa ekki drekann, ekki fara að leita að því aftur. Og ef þú skyldir svo að finna drekann þú vilt láta fara, ekki, undir neinum kringumstæðum, að koma aftur næsta dag og reyna að fæða það!"
When he pulled forward to step into the bottom of the Fire Mouth, his not-scale caught on two pieces of Midgard that were jutting out from the wall. He pulled at it for a bit and, when it was obvious that it was not moving, let out a sad little roar. "Bara frábært...Ég býst við að ég ætla að fara í varnarlaust." He tossed the fish over the not-scale and climbed under it, growling the entire time. "Allt annað, Loki? Þar sem þú virðist vera að njóta kvöl mína! Ertu viss um að er ekki eitthvað annað sem þú vilt að kasta leið mína? Ég efast í dag gæti fengið mikið verri!"
The fish overwhelmed my senses, setting my mouth to drooling and my guard at low. I slunk forward a little by farther and, when he was just far enough that he couldn't run, I slipped out of my hiding place and stared him down.
Silverflesh... I moaned internally as I stared at the large silver fish handing from his forepaw. Food... I slowly stepped forward, paw after paw until I was within biting range. I could take off his paw... I thought blearily, most of my mind focused on the easy food in front of me. Using so many Tha'um in a row, on top of using an Alteration Tha'um while severely injured, then injuring myself further had drained my energy reserves and I desperately needed food. And the fish he had...was so...tasty...looking...
The wind shifted and I caught the piercing scent of Ringing Midgard. I snorted and glared at the cub. "How dare you?! Are you trying to kill me?"
Of course he's trying to kill you. He's a Skenndar and he shot you down, reason argued. The food was a ploy to get you to drop your guard.
"And it almost worked," I growled at him, snout wrinkling. I backtracked a few paces and glared at him. I should disfigure him for trying to harm me. I should kill him for trying to harm me!
His eyes darted down to the folds of his not-fur and he pulled it back with his free forepaw, revealing a not-fang made of a brilliant Ringing Midgard and prongbeast hide. I hissed at him, making my displeasure known.
"Just drop the damn fish and get away!" I warned.
Surprisingly though, without breaking eye contact, the cub dropped the not-fang onto Midgard and, with a quick look of disapproval from me, picked it up with his hind-paw and tossed it into the lake. "Betri?"
I plopped my hindquarters down and stared at him with the most disarmingly adorable look I could. Give me the fish and go.
His facial muscles relaxed as his guard lowered and he leaned in to give me the fish. I opened my mouth as his forepaw extended the fish towards me, teeth sheathed. "Tannlaus? En ég hefði getað svarið að þú hefðir..." I unsheathed my teeth with a snap and snatched the fish from his paw, choking it down in two bites. "...tennurnar...," he yipped in surprise.
It was bigger than the fish in the lake and, ohh..., it was saltwater! It was so good! I moaned in appreciation and smacked my lips in appreciation.
Maybe, if I buttered up this Skenndar, I would have a steady supply of fish. I looked back at him and noticed how thin he was. Maybe he was hungry too and I took his meal! My Birthing-Mother would be angry with me!
Damn. I could hear her growling her disapproval now, smacking me upside the head with her tail and scolding me for taking from someone less fortunate than I. Less fortunate...yeah right...
I stepped forward until the Skenndar cub fell on his tail-less behind, back against the wall of the Fire Mouth. "I'm going to reward you, so you better accept it Skenndar," I growled. He yipped in terror and I drew sick pleasure from the fear rolling off him—though no piddle this time. Regardless, now that I was closer, and the threat was greatly reduced, I took some time to observe the Skenndar's form and build. He was thin like a sapling, he had small paws, his head was oblong, his snout round and flat, and—like other Skenndar—his fangs were crooked and blunt. He had no means of defence now that he had dropped the not-fang into the lake, the fur atop his head was the colour of a Cloak's scales, his peach-fuzz hide was spattered with freckles much like my own, and his eyes were still that piercing green.
The cloying smell of fire, trees, ash, and Ringing Midgard filled my nostrils and I kept eye contact with him before I finally decided. I'm going to give you some of your food back. Call it a gesture of goodwill.
My entire snout scrunched up as I forcibly activated my gag reflex to regurgitate the sea-fish. "Hhhk..." You better be glad that—"Hhhk..."—my Birthing-Mother taught me to—"Hhhk..."—repay kindness with kindness.
The upper-half of the fish landed at his feet and he looked down at it, then back at me. "Uh...er þetta fyrir mig?"
You didn't kill me, so I didn't kill you. I assured him mentally—though I really was thinking this for reassurance in my self-control. You fed me, so I'm feeding you. Eat! I nudged the fish to his hindquarters. He picked it up in his forepaws and gave me a crooked baring of his fangs.
"Heh ... þakka ... þú?" Was he angry with me? Why was he baring his nubby little fangs? But...he didn't smell like anger...he smelled normal. Was it a weird Skenndar gesture of happiness then?
I nodded at the fish and smacked my lips to try and communicate my meaning to him. Eat the damn fish before I shame my ancestors and eat you. His hide paled slightly.
"Þú ... þú vilt mig til að borða þetta?! Ég...uh...ja, ef ég vil ekki að borða mig, ég ætti að gera það sem þú vilt mig til." He chirped to himself, then took a large bit out of the silverflesh. He purred and nodded as he chewed, trying to signify his appreciation of my gift.
When he didn't swallow, I prompted him by exaggerating the motion. I am mere seconds away from stealing the fish from you. If you don't appreciate it, I'll eat it instead.
He paled and began growling in distress through the mouthful of fish. "Ó nei. Nei...takk...ó. É-ég verð að kyngja, ekki ég? Guð...vel, hér fer!" He chewed some more and then swallowed, tilting his head back slightly to allow the large chunk of meat to slide down his tiny throat. I was satisfied.
He gave me another nubby-fang-bare and I finally realised what it was: a disarming gesture! If you bare your fangs and bear no ill will, your enemy will never see your attack coming! Fangs sheathed, I mimicked the gesture, pulling the corners of my mouth up and away from my gums. It was weird, but the Skenndar seemed to like it. He reached out, forepaw a breath away from my snout.
"Back off!" I growled at him, leaping and half-gliding over to my coal-bed to lay down for a mid-Cycle nap. "Me giving you food doesn't mean you can touch me, Skenndar!" I blew a stream of fire to heat up the coals and laid down, tail wrapped around my snout like I normally do when I go to sleep. As I tried to drift off by counting woolbeasts, I felt a niggling sensation in my Mind's Eye. It was a Form, bright and present; I wasn't sure who it was, but they were getting very close to me.
My eyes snapped open and I flicked away my tail just in time to see the Skenndar twirl in the other direction and make featherbeast noises as he walked away. What...? Skenndar don't have Forms! That's ridiculous.
"What does a Draconis have to do to get some sleep around here?" I grumbled as I stood up, hop-glided over to the side of the Fire-Mouth opposite the Skenndar, and wrapped my tail around a tree branch. Ancestor, grant me solace in your embrace. Allow me to heal and draw energy from your roots to further my growth. There is truth in song. I dangled from the branch and slowly drifted to sleep.
xxx}-|||)xxx(fsh)xxx
Once upon a time, for that is how all tales begin, there was a Skenndar skald named Clarity of His Voice who committed a heinous crime.
There was nothing the Skenndar were denied among their Draconic brethren. If they needed food, the Draconis would allow them to hunt alongside them. If they desired hides and fur for warmth, the Draconis would kill a prongbeast or thumpbeast and leave it whole for the Skenndar to process as they would. They were on equal terms with the Draconis they lived among; so much so that certain Skenndar and Draconis formed bonds, sharing the name Bond-Brother.
Clarity was Bond-Brother to the skald of their Home, a One Who Wears Death named Abrasion of His Scales. They, while not conventionally normal Bond-Brothers, shared a certain level of understanding for, not only was Abrasion the Home's skald, but the protector of La Bella. What Clarity always understood was that the Skenndar of her tribe could ask for anything and share anything the Draconis had, except for La Bella.
The two tribes lived in peace for some time, but everything changed when a great illness befell the Skenndar. Dozens died and more still became sick very quickly. Not even the Tha'um of the Great Elder was helping, nor were the prayers the Skenndar sent up to their Great Ones. Time and time again, her tribe came to Clarity and demanded to know if there was anything in song that spoke of a cure to diseases like this. Time and time again, Clarity replied that no, there was no such 'miracle cure'. This persisted for quite some while.
Then Clarity's firstborn died of the disease.
She spoke up then. "We have been given anything we desire by the Draconis," she proclaimed. "If we ask for food, they give us a feast; if we ask for furs, they slaughter every beast close by; if we ask for large stones for building, they uproot and blast apart Midgard for us; yet they have been holding back on us!"
"What? What?!" The Skenndar clamoured.
"I have been told by my Bond-Brother that there was one thing I could not ask for."
"What? What?!" They cried.
"La Bella, the Great Egg that rests in the centre of the Fire-Mouth," Clarity cried out. "That has been denied to us and that must be their secret! That must be the Draconic way to long life and little sickness! We must ask of our Bond-Brothers that they share La Bella with us!"
And so the Skenndar rallied and they asked their Bond-Brothers to share La Bella with them. Horrified when the news reached his ears, Abrasion confronted Clarity with ferocity.
"You have asked for the impossible! You have filled their heads with falsehoods! You know that La Bella does not do that!"
"Ah, but La Bella is precious to your people, no?" Clarity shot back.
"True," Abrasion admitted, "but why would that matter?"
"My firstborn was precious to me; their children and family were precious to them. If the Draconis truly care, they will give up their precious in penance for letting ours die."
Abrasion knew that Clarity was mad with grief, so he—with much regret—drove the Skenndar away, saying they could no longer live so close to Her. They left willingly, but would not give up.
That Blink-time, when all the Draconis slept, Clarity and a select few snuck into the Fire Mouth and smashed open La Bella in an attempt to find out the Draconis' secret. Instead of a secret, they were met with the Great Father's wrath in the form of the Heartfire of the Fire Mouth blasting upward and killing them, turning them into permanent statues of Midgard, ash, and death. He then cursed the Skenndar to be dumb beasts for all of eternity for their sins against the Great Mother. They would never again be Bond-Brothers with the Draconis.
The Draconis wept for their loss yet, in the midst of the mourning and cursing and gnashing of fangs, from the plume of Heartfire came a Voice. The Voice was pure as His Breath and strong as Ringing Midgard. It said, Do not weep my children, for I am not dead. I am merely sleeping. One Bright-Cycle the time will come and I will return to guide you in the ways of the pure. You will, through me, become one with the Great Father. Everything will be alright. Do not weep for me just yet.
And the Draconis, sorrow forgotten, leapt for joy. Their Great Mother was alive and one day She would return to herald a new era in. Everything would be just fine.
There is truth in song.
xxx}-|||)xxx(fsh)xxx
A blinding Form in my Mind's Eye jolted me awake, the lingering scent of the Skenndar taunting me. I slid my tail free of the branch and dropped down on all fours, wincing at the twinge in my ribs. Just a twinge though, thankfully. Thank you for the energy you let me borrow, Ancestor. It will be put to good use. There is truth in Song.
I closed my Mind's Eye and opened my physical eyes. His Bright-Eye was low on the horizon and, from what I could tell, there was no chance of His Tears falling tonight. As I scanned the Fire Mouth for any trace of the Skenndar, I caught sight of him sitting on a large hunk of Midgard, a tree-bit in his forepaws. What are you doing?
I crawled towards him and sat on my haunches behind him, watching what he was doing. He had the tree-bit in his forepaws and was dragging it in the dirt, creating lines and ridges that looked a bit like my face. His scent changed from its normal mix to one tinged with surprise and worry but he didn't meet my eyes as he continued to scratch my face into the dirt.
Is this some sort of show of trust? If I do this, will you bring me more fish? I pondered. Dead-set on getting more food, as my stomach let out a loud complain and cramped, I dashed over to the tree I had slept in and offered a quick apology. My sincerest regrets, Ancestor, but I am hungry and this might speed up the food retrieval process. Please forgive me for what I am about to do. There is truth in song. I tore off the branch I hung off of while sleeping and dragged it over to where the Skenndar sat. Looking at him and taking in his features, I began to draw his visage in the dirt. Twisting and turning, I danced across Midgard on my hind legs with the branch in my mouth, carving his face into the dirt using the same technique he did. When I finished, adding the dot-like pupils in his eyes as a final touch, I spat the tree out and set it ablaze with a single firebolt. Give the Great Father my regards, Ancestor.
The Skenndar churred in surprise and stood up, eyes taking in my masterpiece. "Hvað er það? Sagði hann afrita bara mig? Er hann að reyna að senda? Þetta-þetta er svo flott! Ég get ekki trúa því að þetta er að gerast! Fyrst étur hann af minni hendi og ekki drepa mig í þriðja sinn; en nú er hann að reyna að hafa samband við mig!" He stepped forward, right onto my drawing and I growled.
"Back off, yolk-brain! I didn't plod all over your drawing, so why do this to mine?!" He pulled his hind paw off the line, then placed it back. "What did I say," I snapped. He toed the line again, as if he were testing my boundaries and I growled, "Do you want to lose that foot?!"
The threat seemed to do the trick because the Skenndar began dancing and twirling inside my drawing, forepaws thrown out in balance and hind paws landing perfectly in the negative space. Soon he reached me, landing back against my chest, and looked up. He bared his fangs again and held out his forepaw.
"No," I snorted, "back off!"
Suddenly, as if he understood me, he pulled his paw back and kept eye contact with me. Was he challenging me? Then, slowly, he closed his eyes and left his forepaw breaths away from my snout. What are you doing?
He didn't smell like a challenger, nor did he reek of fear. Even his cloying natural scent seemed watered down and pleasant. "Are you asking?" I mulled over what had happened. Food was no longer a main focus, in fact it wasn't even prominent in my mind. All there was to focus on was the Skenndar and myself. I nudged my snout into his cupped paw and closed my eyes.
I felt his fingers shift around my nose and rub my upper snout. He exhaled in awe, "We were wrong about you..."
Of course you—wait...did you just talk?! But...Skenndar can't talk! I pulled away from him and snorted to get his scent out of my nostrils. You aren't normal! That - that can't happen! That's not natural! "Stay away from me, Skenndar!" I glided away as fast as my crippled status would allow, retreating to the farthest corner of the Fire Mouth.
The Skenndar stood there, stunned, and then walked away. As he retreated from my position and began to scale the Fire Mouth wall, he churred, "Did he just talk?"
