Sorry for the late update. No excuse shall be given because they are all lame. I hope this chapter is enough of an apologize to you. Thank you for your patience and thank you even more for staying with me. Now, to the chapter, please.
Repayment
It became a routine then. Every morning when the weather wasn't too bad, we meet up at the circular ravine, going on a hunt, then near afternoon coming back to the oak tree and eat the things we've caught. Then the rest of the time until sundown will be spent just sitting there, the hatchling telling me stories of his tribe, of their everyday life (which consisted of rather interesting facts, like kids started butting heads when they were quite young to prove their, er, Viking-ness and such) whilst he did something-or-other.
Sometimes he would bring the tiny pointed toothpicks they called "needles" and fabric to make small pouches, other times it would be a knife and a piece of wood as the hatchling worked it into a figure. It still fascinated me as to how a tool of war could…create things like that. But the hatchling certainly could.
We dragons have always believed that the humans were savages (albeit pretty impressive and stubborn ones), nothing more than glorified apes that had earned a bit of brain more than animals and learned how to build things and force others into their service. They certainly fought like one. No strategy, no team, no nothing. Pick up an axe and start swinging like there's no tomorrow for them seems to be their best strategy. Well, in a way, that could be true, but that wasn't important…
The point is, we – no, maybe it was just I – thought that humans only destroy for the better part of their life. All I've ever seen of "human art" are my people's heads and hides and carvings on their pathetic houses that I can run through with the tip of my wing with complete ease. They depended on nature, yet they never truly looked at nature.
Looking at the piece of wood going from, well, being a piece of wood to a young female human's figure, though, I had the impression that I'd better think again. Do all humans have this skill? Or is just this one special hatchling that possessed that magic in his fingers that could make things change like this?
I liked to think it was the latter.
Days passed. I stopped thinking about how wrong it was for a human and a dragon to befriend each other. I stopped thinking about how things would've been different if that fireball had hit its intended target all those weeks ago as I attempted to…eliminate…the threat that turned out to be a sweet little child that I grew to like tremendously.
I stopped thinking altogether.
To my surprise, it feels better when I don't think so much. It feels better if I will just greet my hatchling like a normal friend, hang around him like we are just two lonely beings that finally found somebody we trusted and be happy about it.
At the beginning, there had been hesitation, from both him and me, but his faded away as quickly as the little bits of blue peeking through heavy clouds in this winter. His trust was catching.
By the third week since the Oak Tree Incident (the one where I nearly, you know…), I've stopped thinking altogether. My curiosity was still there, mind you, but whenever I saw Sweyn walking toward me, I didn't think about dissecting his motives to the core or why and how he does something anymore. I thought about the fun we would have together.
It was the most pleasurable time I've had with a friend since…never. Wind Striker kept his distance, the other dragons when we were still young often went in groups of three to four, not a pair like I, so we had never gotten on with each other quite that well. And they don't smile like this hatchling did, the smile that made me brightened for some reason.
I treasured that. I treasured my hatchling and his trust.
Now I looked at the oak tree with disdain, but there was an odd surge of thankfulness welling up in me whenever I did. Thankfulness because the tree had taken that fire for my hatchling. If it had found its true mark…How could I have ever forgiven myself?
Things have changed so much. My view on the humans…it was shifting. I was starting to think that humans weren't so bad after all. Slowly, I was throwing away the name Winter along with my wariness and distaste to humans.
I am "Tempest". I am a dragon.
I am a human child's friend. My human hatchling's friend. I am proud of that fact and thrice as glad.
Had been and always will be.
0o0o0o0o0
It was a considerably warm day (only a few degrees under freezing) and the specks of blue sky were a lot bigger, growing into large lakes of calm cerulean. The weather was still cold, but much better than the freezing-your-wings-off days we've experienced before. There hadn't been a permanent blizzard for a whole month now, but snow still falls consistently, stopping for about ten hours before starting up again. If we were lucky, winter might be going early this year.
Sitting under the left oak, I glanced at the sky through the branches lazily. The hatchling was running late, which was unusual. Most times, he'd always been here when I arrived to greet me with a smile and asked me if I've got to wait for a courting session to get over with or what. That was followed by a little chase around the woods (sometimes I let the hatchling win, other times he won it himself by getting into small spaces only he could fit until I admit defeat – which happens very rarely, mind you!) before we start the official hunt.
But then again, what is usual about my hatchling?
So I decided it was best to wait patiently until he drags his backside to me. Patience was a trait existent in all dragons albeit some was shorter on that than others. I've never been great in that department, so I decided to distract myself by thinking about something else whilst I waited. Deciding on the different acrobatics I could perform in the air, I mulled that subject over as I watched the sky.
And so it was for the next two hours as I lost myself in thoughts, moving from subject to subject and momentarily forgot the hatchling altogether. That soon ended when the shouting started, along with the shrieking of what sounded like a very young dragonet.
It was a small sound at first, but it grew in volume as the children's voices lit with glee, and I stood, alarmed. No…
Without needing any prodding, I shot toward the thick trees and picked up on the sounds. Moving as silently and quickly as I could, I followed it. Our dragonets under the stage of fledging were always kept in our share of the island, close to the Dens. We don't want them destroyed by the greedy humans. Yet that did not stop a foolish few from going over the boundary in hope of adventure and met some bloodthirsty humans instead.
I just hope this one was alive when I found it.
The noises came closer until I could lift my head and easily overlook the entire situation. However, as of now, all I could make out was several backs turned against me. They were quite small, so I guessed they were children's. The little one was probably in the middle of that tight-packed circle. I quickly clambered up a tall snow-covered redwood tree so that they would not notice me. Human eyes were not all that sharp – except for the hunters. They certainly couldn't spot a camouflaged dragoness.
Observing, I noticed that there were six human children in total. Four were circling the hatchling, which was a rather young-looking Toxic Nightshade. It was too young to have any of that infamous poison in its fangs, so that would render it nearly useless in a fight. I wasn't even sure if it could fly yet. The other two humans stood a distant away, not participating but not stopping their comrades either. One was a dark-haired female with her hair tied into that style they called a "ponytail". She was looking at the entire ordeal with wide eyes, and her pose was hesitant. She certainly didn't know what to do or what was right to do.
As of the other…
Sweyn looked like he wanted to pounce any day, a dagger in his hand. In fact, he'd already stepped forward and raised the weapon, but the female grasped his sleeve and pulling him back, whispering something I couldn't make out. I saw his eyes moved around the surroundings desperately, searching for something that would solve the situation.
I remained frozen on the tree for a few seconds before moving again. A distraction. I need a distraction. I don't want to fight my hatchling's own kind in front of his eyes. Neither can I guarantee them to be whole after the assault (as the term "battle" was not appropriate – all I do is breathe and they go up in flame), and they were Vikings after all. They could run like an angry dragon dame was after them or they could make a last stand to prove their moronic dignity. One way or another, I don't want to risk it. It feels almost…alien now, having to battle a human after I've got Sweyn.
Great. I should really start moving out of the Dens before some dragon thought I had really lost it.
"Tempest," a whisper sounded in the wind, and I glanced down at the hatchling. He was looking straight at me, his eyes locked with mine. A jolt of understanding passed between us, and I don't know how, but I understood that he would help me. I remained still and narrowed my eyes so the large specks of blue in the middle of pure white would not be recognized.
The female who was standing with my hatchling looked puzzled, but before she could open her mouth to speak, Sweyn straightened, took aim and released the dagger in an overhead throw, sending it spinning against the ground near the Toxic Nightshade.
Yelping, the other human children jumped clear of the way, giving the frozen dark dragonet a wide space. Luckily, it got the message and turned to run, dashing straight toward my hatchling.
For a moment, I thought it was going to try and kill him, but it didn't. Sweyn himself stepped out of the way as it ran past, his face slightly surprised. The dragonet did not look back and I relaxed from the tense position I've remained in the entire operation. Sighing in relief, I climbed back down the tree and slinked around the group to chase after the dragonet. It would head home now to its dame, I was sure, but that didn't mean I would not make sure it goes safely all the way home.
I could feel Sweyn's eyes on me as I ran, but I didn't turn around. We would meet again, that's for sure. Maybe tomorrow. Then perhaps I will try to repay him for what he did today. He had saved one of our dragonets and that itself spoke great significance. The action, in the least, would earn my hatchling a safety pass for a strange dragon. For me, he would have more.
Behind me, though, there was a sudden noise that sounded like a fist connecting with flesh and a bitter, furious and disgusted shout.
"Traitor!"
I paused and looked back, unease swallowing me. Should I…?
There was a loud crash not far away, followed by a yelp. Turning my attention back to the Toxic Nightshade dragonet, I decided to worry about that later. Surely the humans would not…hurt one of their own kinds at that age?
0o0o0o0o0
After taking the Toxic Nightshade (which was a male and was dubbed Trouble), I returned to my own mountain, the last word of that unfamiliar voice and its tone haunting me as I settled down in my nest.
Traitor.
Is that what they called my hatchling? Is that how they responded to his decision of saving a hatchling, a child? Do these barbarians have no mercy whatsoever? We've spared their little ones. Didn't they teach their own growing generation that children were not meant to be killed before they at least reach adulthood?
Disgusting. They are disgusting.
Then there was that noise before the shout. My body tensed as I figured out the possibility. If they had been able to do that to a hatchling, then those children would certainly be more comfortable hitting my hatchling, too. And to think that I'd…
In a fit of impulsiveness, I got up onto my feet and prepared to leap.
"Where are you going?" a voice asked suddenly, deep but curious. I turned around to look into the golden eyes of the old dragon, Lavabreath. His black body (or mostly, anyway) was shadowed by the darkness, but the glowing eyes were rather unnerving. They weren't prodding, though. Just curious.
"Midnight joy flight," I replied, although after that, I wasn't sure what I was going to do next. Go into the human dwellings to find my hatchling? Return to the Twin Oaks and wait until morning? I don't know. But I have to do something.
Lavabreath seemed to accept that, so I proceeded. Without looking back, I was in air and flapping. Five seconds later, open night sky was before me.
I flew aimlessly for a few hours to clear my mind before deciding on the Twin Oaks. The night was not warm but nowhere near intolerable, and if I was correct, there was a very large cave not too far from the Oaks. I could rest there for the night if I want. I just wanted to see something familiar.
Still, my guts clenched at the memory of the afternoon. What exactly had that bastard of a human done to my hatchling? It was partly my fault, too. If only I'd acted on my own and not fearing for the others' lives, he wouldn't have been called a traitor and he wouldn't have been hurt. If only…
I landed without much acknowledgement in the ravine and proceeded to curl myself up under the Eastern Oak to sulk. What I hadn't expected, though, was a voice calling softly, "Tempest?"
"Hatchling?" I lifted my head in disbelief and gazed at the direction where the voice had come from, not daring to believe that it really was him.
Sweyn was sitting cross-legged under the other tree in the dark. No fire was present, and he was shivering slightly. He was also pressing a fistful of snow against the side of his face. My hatchling smiled slightly but then winced as he turned, his face twisted in a grimace of pain.
My guts wrenched briefly as I stalked toward the child and settled around him, draping my wing over his form to keep the winds and the cold out. The first sensation had faded into a dull, strange ache in my stomach that was not painful but was uncomfortable all the same.
I tucked my head into my wing to regard him. "Where does it hurt?" I asked. But of course he wouldn't understand. Still, my hatchling at least got the basic principles of the question down.
Sweyn shook his head, smiling slightly, that bit of snow still pressed against his face. "It's not that bad. A few bruises here and there. I'll be fine. I've been through worse." His voice took on a bitter edge before he shrugged it off and leaned against me. "Well, everything has a price after all. I've paid mine. And it's worth all that if it saves a life, huh?" The tone was lighter, but there was still a wince as he moved.
Quietness enveloped us for a few moments before I reached up, snatched his sleeve with my teeth and gently pried his hand away. My hatchling looked puzzled but didn't resist. Once the hand came off, the truth went into the opening.
For several seconds, I stared at the dark, slightly swelling bruise on his cheek. Then comprehension finally sank in and white hot anger flared momentarily before dying into a blazing flame. I really feel like felling some trees any moment.
But Sweyn just sighed and reached up to touch my snout. "You can't do anything, Tempest. I act like a dummy, I get beat up. It's always been like that and it always will be. No use in trying to change a rule that'd been around for as long as humans existed." His hand slipped off and he closed his eyes, sighing again.
I studied him carefully for awhile before reaching up and pressing my snout against his face. He flinched slightly at the cold touch, but relaxed soon after. I closed my eyes and we held.
We held for almost the entire night before my head fell into his laps and we got comfortable enough to go to sleep.
0o0o0o0o0
As the sun rose the next morning, Sweyn was looking at it moodily. "Now I'll have to walk all the way back to the village. If my dad found out I'm missing, he's going to have my hide," he moaned, kicking up some snow and then winced in pain. Ouch. I swear, in the next raid I will make every single kid I see in that patch of forest a piece of my mind – a very, very big piece.
Sweyn had adopted a limp that I hadn't seen before, but he'd assured me that it was only temporary. His movements were stiff and they didn't flow together like usual. As he moved, I noticed that he tried not to bend on his sides too much. Probably some lovely bruise there, too.
I pondered about the distance between here and the village. If I run, it might take about fifty minutes and the Vikings were usually early risers. But if I fly, it will take only fifteen at the most. Carrying a passenger as small and light as him, it would be like carrying a cotton bag. No problem there.
But I didn't feel ready to let him go that far yet. Still, he more than deserved it. He'd paid his price for a hatchling's freedom. I owe him that much if not more.
Deciding swiftly, I growled to get his attention and used my neck to gesture to my back. If I keep waiting, I probably would never be ready. Besides, what is the harm?
A never-seen-before broad grin split the hatchling's face and made my day a little bit brighter. The child looked remarkably younger when he was doing that, I observed. "Oh, cool! Thanks, Tempest!" He clambered up with the support of my foreleg and lodged himself firmly between two of my spine bones. It was the place where he'd sat before.
Somehow, this felt right. This felt…okay. Was that supposed to feel like this? But I pushed the thought out of my head. It doesn't matter.
"I'm ready!" came the call. I grumbled in acknowledgement and leaped up the oak tree as it was the only tree around strong enough to support me. It shook slightly as I bent my knees when I reached the top and jumped into the air before snapping out my wings to start flapping.
When we have gained altitude enough to be in open sky, I started to fly at a fast pace but not fast enough to throw off the passenger on my back.
Then I heard it: clear, ringing laughter filled with glee and pleasure. I've thought I heard that before on the Tribal Wolves Island, but I haven't heard it clearly. Now that I did, I had to admit something.
It was satisfying.
Together, we soared into the rising sun. A boy and a dragoness.
Who would have thought? Indeed, who would ever have thought?
I'm getting lame, aren't I?
Either way, I don't intend for Sweyn to be a sort of "emo" dude going around looking gloomy and all. He was merely a child bent by his society into believing that he's less than them. And yes, he is, physically and mentally. But really, even after all those torments, if you are invited by your friend who is a dragon to ride with her, won't you be a bit ecstasy?
I would, and I think you will, too.
