The Wheel Spins Too Fast

The hatchling accepted the help I offered him, but he wouldn't let me sink my teeth into the prey. He merely heaved it up and threw it across my back before leading the way deeper into the woods. We were going further south, I realized, my inborn direction compass working quickly. So he wasn't leading me toward his village. How strange. Where would he eat his prey?

I didn't know where he was leading me, but judging by his easy strides and the little-less-than-distrustful glances he kept throwing me, I guess he wouldn't guide me to a clearing full of bloodthirsty Vikings waiting for a dragon to slay. Basing on the way he acts about whichever human's face he had painted on the aspen tree to throw rocks at and the sourness whenever he spoke of his people, I wouldn't say he actually loved his folks all that much.

"Here," the hatchling said at last after about an hour of walking. We were standing to look down on another ravine, this one shaped like a shallow bow and filled up with snow except for two parallel, large oak trees standing about ten meters apart. The space between them was obscured with a very thick shade.

I huffed, studying the place. Several large boulders and rocks were scattered here and there, and I imagined it would have been covered in green grass in the summer. But it was winter now, and everything in sight has at least something white and snowy to it. My eyes traveled back to Sweyn, who was looking rather proudly at the place. He was already starting to go down toward the trees.

"One of my many discoveries," he explained as I followed him with an easy jump. He was searching around the oak tree and gathered many of the branches lying around innocently, but I wouldn't doubt one of those will be in my eye if I tried anything. The hatchling bundled them up and reached to his belt for something. Probably the things humans used to light fire. "Not being in the center of attention gave me lots of time to do whatever I want – Whoa!"

I've decided to save him the trouble and produced a small fireball. It hit the branches and created a warm fire. "Thanks," the hatchling admitted, rolling his eyes as he went to retrieve his kill. "But you could've warned me first." Dragging the deer with some efforts, the hatchling dropped it on the ground before drawing out a longer, curved knife from the belt under his coat and started the butchering.

Chewing on my meal slowly, I watched as the knife danced about the deer, slicing down its stomach and the hatchling's hands came inside to remove the intestines before throwing them aside. I have only seen humans work on their kills once; I've never seen it in fine details before, so I was no judge to see if the hatchling was an amateur or a fine butcher. However, seeing the ease he has, it was easy to tell that it wasn't the first time he'd done this.

Finally, when the meat was done, the hatchling started to skewer junks of them and stabbed their ends into the earth so the meat could roast over the fire. I decided there was nothing left to do but wait and fully turned my attention to my own foods.

I bit into the hide first, easily ripping the skin apart and threw it aside before biting my teeth into the ribs, breaking them. Savoring the crunchiness of the bones for a few seconds, I moved on to clean the inside completely. Livers, heart, stomach, flesh – I ate it all. I only left the bladder behind and then moved to the head.

There was suddenly a large swallow as my fangs sank into the side of the deer's skull. I glanced to the hatchling to see that his eyes were determinedly turned away. Curious. Why would he do that? What was so nasty about me eating?

"Humans…don't have strong enough stomachs to…do what you dragons do," the hatchling said carefully, his eyes still looking at the fire pleadingly like it could do something to keep his attention from me divided. I blinked once. They don't? Then how come they skinned us like sheep and used our heads as trophies above their doors? And what about that dragon arena thing when somebody has to kill a Nightmare in front of their entire crowd and chop the poor thing into gory bits and then roared triumphantly over it.

How did they have the stomach for that, but not for this?

Then another question entered my mind. Is it your people, or is it just you?

Whatever the reason was, the hatchling looked like he didn't want to see any part of my eating, so after a few seconds of consideration, I turned my back on him, making sure the scene was out of his view before proceeding to suck the brain out and eat the things in the head.

For a good hour, I finished my second deer for the day and tossed the carcass away for some Terrible Terrors if they were hungry and happened to pass through the region. When I was done and the leftovers were a safe distance away from the valley (the hatchling asked where I was going when I left, but he didn't follow) so that no Terror would see this dragoness being smitten by a human hatchling if that happens, I turned my full attention back to Sweyn.

He was holding a large chunk of deer meat over the warm fire, his eyes glazed and skyward. I followed his gaze and saw a few specks of blue sky behind the fluffy clouds. The blizzards have ceased for awhile, and I would predict that for the next two weeks, there will be peace on Death Rock for once. I mean the weather, of course. Put an average Viking and an average dragon on the same island and there will be war.

My eyes traveled back to the hatchling. His gaze was still locked on the clouds, a wistful look now entering them. Before long, though, the junk of meat on his stick started sizzling with fire and the dreamy look vanished with a blink of an eye. The hatchling held up the stick and groaned at the sight of the black junk.

"Great," he grumbled, tossing the thing aside and shaking his head in disdain. "Daydreams. They are all worthless." The last phrase was said angrily but just a bit uncertainly as the hatchling reached for another deer-on-a-stick, this one done just right and dug in.

For the next half an hour, I looked at the sky thoughtfully, trying to work out just what the hatchling had been thinking. It was twice today that I saw him have that look on his face. The one in the valley was pretty much the same thing. What is about the sky that is so fascinating? Of course, as a dragon, I understood that sky means flight, freedom. But Sweyn was a human. He was made to live with his feet firmly on the ground. He has only touched Sky briefly before, both during a frightening time.

But is it impossible that he liked it?

The winds started blowing again, rustling my scales slightly. It was not even cold in the slightest to me, but judging from how the flame and the hatchling shuddered, perhaps it wasn't so. Watching him curled up into a tight ball, knees against his chest, an image of the same person sitting atop a boulder, shivering with blue lips and nose suddenly flashed back in my mind from what seemed like a century ago.

This time wasn't much different from the last, either, except we were closer, and Sweyn wasn't glaring at me. He didn't ask for help, though, even if I know that he would want to. His momentary glances at my wing proved that. He was still the stubborn, hard-to-sway hatchling down to the very last minute.

I snorted in exasperated puzzlement. We weren't going to eat each other now, that was for sure. I've made it clear I am not going to harm him, so why did he still keep that distance? Do I look that suspicious, or is it just his nature?

Probably his nature, I reasoned as I stood slowly and made my way toward him, slight hesitance nagging at my brain only to be brutally shoved away. He has only a few knives, but even so, I was convinced he can't hurt me. I will have to show him that I meant no harm either. That I really do.

Covering the last six meters between us with soft, measured steps, I finally stood behind him and sat down there, wounding my tail around his pitiable, tiny body that has no natural protection on it for the weather and draped a wing over him carefully to block out the brewing winds.

There was a small gasp of surprise from under the limb and when I arched my neck to look at him, the hatchling looked positively shocked. His mouth was partly opened, working like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the right words. I watched him, waiting for something to happen. Will his lips tightened into a scowl? Will he leap away, glaring at me and stalked off, all newfound trust gone?

Finally, after a lot of blinking and staring, the fleshy lips twisted. But it was not a scowl. It was not an expression of awkwardness, nor was it of alarm. It wasn't wholly what I have expected from this one. But then again, looking back on it, he'd never met any of my expectations before. He'd always done the opposite.

A soft smile appeared on his face, a strange quality of relief in it, and I could see the last of his distrust fading away. He leaned against my scales, breathing out a sigh through his nose. His eyes drifted close, causing me to release a breath I didn't know I have been holding and for my body to stop tensing (I did not even notice that I was tense).

I placed my head so that my tail was between his feet and my head. It was starting to snow again, I noticed dimly. But how important is that? I've won the hatchling's trust…and he has won my respect. Finally, a new level of acceptance. It would help with my later observations of him, no doubt about that.

But there was something more to it. I felt proud because I've achieved his trust, not because for my own good, but because of something else…something that I can't name. I've wanted the faith, there was no doubt. But not just for that reason. It was all so…puzzling. I convinced myself that I have viewed it as a game, and I've won this round, but that wasn't it.

There was no word for it. However, I felt like I want his trust just because. Why? Why? That was the question. That and how did he affect me so much? This one human who was too stoic to give up, too stubborn to ask for help and too distrustful to accept me. What made him so special? I've hunted countless humans before, have slaughtered many of Sweyn's race. What stopped me from doing the same thing with this particular human child? Why did I not kill him that moment when we first touched down on the Island of the Tribal Wolves? Before my decision to keep him alive for observation, before he showed me more of himself, before this all started spiraling forward too fast for me to keep pace.

And why did we meet again? I have spared the hatchling, and that might have been that. But then perhaps the gods had led us to that valley together, so we can see each other in a different light, and he'd performed that first touch, and I've fallen to it. For the first time, lying there, curled up around Sweyn, I realized that despite all his glares and his distance, he might never really hurt me.

Well, that makes a lot of sense. Threatening somebody but not meaning to do it? Humans are so strange…

A hand suddenly appeared on the side of my head, causing me to turn and looked curiously at the hatchling. His hand was, once again, warm against my scale, making the heat travel to my skin. Are humans always so warm like this? I made a feeble attempt to pull back, but then gave in. Fine, let him have his fun.

The hand traveled over my neck, stopping here and there. It was strangely pleasurable, and I found myself purring softly to his touch. I've never been touched like this before. Not before him. And I liked this new experience. It happened too quickly, almost scary, but this one – this one was…lovely.

It continued until I found my head lying in the hatchling's lap, his other hand under my chin. His touch was gentle and measured, and he seemed to know just where to scratch. I closed my eyes and let myself go. Nobody was looking, so who cares? As long as it wasn't public, no problem.

I found it hard to believe that the same little human who has sent me glare after glare and had been chased by me throughout the forest, forced down a cliff and actually had the guts to jump on my back for a ride was doing this. If it had been I on that cliff, in that situation, I would've killed my opponent in his sleep. I was pretty sure other humans would, too.

So why hadn't you, hatchling?

I opened one of my eye to look at Sweyn, who was overtaken with that same dreamy look again, and his gaze was once again skyward. The specks of blue were wider and more numerous now. The light gray clouds were clearing at last. It will probably remain that way for hopefully a week before some deities sends another blizzard hurling at us. They always do that.

Once again, I found myself wondering just what was so enchanting about the sky to a human. But then again, this hatchling was unlike any other, so what does it mean for him? I wished I could've asked, but we didn't speak the same language, so I can't count on him to understand anything I uttered.

The hatchling kept his eyes locked with the blue specks for some time before he shook his head like he was trying to get rid of something sticky. "I should really stop the stupid thoughts," he said with a smirk, but it was sour. "After all, only reality matters, right?" That wasn't said with very much enthusiasm.

Yes, only reality matters. Dragons live the present, after all. Kill all those who challenge you, hunt all those you have to, fly as high as you can while you still have your wings and have some kids while you're still in your mating years. We don't look back. We look a bit forward at times, but most of our life is here, in this moment.

I've had exciting thoughts of pure fiction when I was only a hatchling, twenty-something years old, but as I grew older and made my first kills, they faded like mists. Life was too busy for dreams, after all. Fictions – they are useless. They get you killed, nothing more.

"Still, it's kinda nice to get away from reality sometimes, huh?" the hatchling said distantly.

Yes, it is kinda nice…

Wait, what? I'm agreeing with him? On something that is completely backward from draconic traditions?

I pulled my head away from his reach and looked at him, sudden alarm coursing through me. It wasn't important, a part of my mind said calmly. He was just stating the fact and you agree with him because he was right.

And since when did you forget that you are a damn dragon and started going around listening and agreeing to humans? the other side of my mind demanded.

Since when indeed. Since when had all this started going too fast? Since when did I care? Since when…

I need time to think. This human was affecting me too much. I need my space. I need to flee. Fast.

And just like that, before I could realize what I was doing, I was between the clouds, leaving behind the hatchling. My mind was in a jumbled state of panic and numbness. Panic because of the effect he was having on me, and numbness because I didn't really comprehend what was happening anymore. I need to brake before this goes too far.

He is poison, I thought fiercely, although I myself was unconvinced. He is poison.

But he will be back. I won't forget him, and he won't forget me. Until then, I need to work things out with myself as much as possible.

Too fast…The wheel spins all too fast.

I'll bet you a beer can that Sweyn was like "WTF?" That or he'll think dragons have mental problems. Don't worry, I - I mean Tempest - will be back. As of now, I need to think.

Reviews are loved.

~the Apprentice