You can hate me now. I left another cliffhanger. :) R&R! Enjoy!
Mother had taught me how powerful my poison was, even at a young age, by telling me to hit creatures with my tail. I took down a full grown buck by barely touching him. One time, father, during the times he was around, told me to hit him with my tail. I was terrified, not wanting to hurt him, but I did so anyways. He began to spasm, but he stung himself with his barb and it counteracted the poison. He taught me during those times, how to avoid hurting anyone, and told me that if I stung myself, it wouldn't poison me. He also told me that if mother ever laid anymore clutches, and they had barbs and stung each other, to use my poison to counteract it. I should have close to the same type of poison, and therefore be able to stop its progress. He later explained that the only reason my poison was effective on him was because when a new gene is introduced, it changes the poison.
I reflect on this as the humans stand on in shock, expecting something much more horrible to happen.
With blood pouring out of the hole to my heart, my hatchlings start and begin to run when either the smell or the blood gets to them. I carefully push my eggs, the bottoms covered in blood, away from me, to a higher spot in the cave. I push my terrified hatchlings around them, and I take an aggressive stance. I bellow all of my sorrow, anger, grief and pain at the humans, whipping my tail around.
As I get close to them, the blood begins to pool around their feet. After all, even if I can't poison myself, it doesn't mean that a hole in the heart cannot be fatal. The smell of the blood lapping at their feet sends them bolting out of the cave, leaving marks of dragon-blood behind. My eyes grasp at a comforting sight, and I look at mothers bones as my vision begins to go blurry. I kneel over, closing my eyes.
I remember father. I remember him playing with me, the cursed hatchling. When eggs are laid as a large clutch, and all but one egg dies, leaving one to live, will be viewed as cursed. My mother was shunned as a layer of cursed clutches. Father didn't shun her, though. He had no family to shun him, and he truly loved mother.
I remember the day of my hatching. I remember my sisters, my brothers, and how we chirped in the eggs. They slowly went silent, one by one, until it was only one brother and I left. I begged him to hatch; I didn't want to lose him too. So he forced himself to begin to hatch, and I did too, a breaking out of my egg before him. Oh, he tried, he had tried so hard. The first thing I saw was his egg. It was cracked, the shell clinging to the lining of the egg. He was still alive, for a short time. He was so pretty. His scales glittered like ice, he being a mix of blue and white and shades in between. He said I looked like a flame, a blue-hot flame. He knew he was dying, and he told me he would tell our siblings, he would tell them how pretty I looked. I had chirped desperately, begging him to stay, to live. I told him he looked like frost, like ice. As he left this world, I ripped open the remains of his egg. I licked him clean, begging him to fight. I couldn't bear to be alone. He smiled, but I still begged him to stay, to be my brother with me.
I don't remember exactly what happened when he finally died, but I remember what my other brother and sisters would've looked like. I should've had a total of 4 sisters and 2 brothers. My sisters were gems, a ruby, a emerald, a sapphire and a amethyst. They would've been so pretty. My brothers were vastly different, one of ice and one of molten gold and silver. They were beautiful, and none of my siblings would've had trouble finding a mate. None of them.
I can only remember breaking their eggs. Mother couldn't do anything, not with my poison, and even when father returned, I gave him a hard time too. Luckily, I hadn't know how to use my barb, so I hadn't hurt him.
I memorized my siblings, committing it to memory. They were all perfect, in their own ways. One thing we all had, barbs. We all had poison. We were all deadly, a perfect combination for survival.
And we were made for killing.
Chirps, pleading voices, singing. I can feel Death. He creeps at the hole to my heart, haunting me. It begins to fade, over time. I hear my hatchlings, and I hear the males. They don't want me to die. The hatchlings would kill each other in grief, as all hatchlings do when both parents or caretakers are dead. I doubt any females would remain, poison or not. I suppose I can hang on for them, and my eggs. I will cling to life.
I hear it all. I hear a voice like father. One of the males from far away sounds like father. Maybe father survived. The last time as I saw him was a week before the cold came. Maybe he escaped the cold. I hope he did.
My eyes open. My eggs have been wiped of most of my blood, and nestled in the crook of my stomach. My hatchlings are all over, but no more than two of their body lengths from me. The rubble from the boulder has been cleared from the cave, and the piles I knocked over between the opening and the main cavern has been replaced.
My heart throbs, and I look at it. I have bled quite a bit, a large area covered with flakes of dried crimson-rust blood. A layer of moss is hooked on the edges of my scales and cover the hole to my heart, absorbing the blood that sluggishly pumps out of the wound, also protecting it from most of the air. Along the edge of the cave, spread out or grouped together, lay every male I have seen, and many more. They seem to be grouped in their clutches, most no more than 3 to a clutch, but with other ages.
I can smell a scent very alike to father. It might be him. It is from the entrance, or that direction. I can shakily stand, trembling at every movement. I somehow still retain my grace, silent even as I tremble. I make it to the beginning of the slope up when a few of my hatchlings stir. They wake, and notice I am no longer there. They look around wildly, before one spots me. It is my male hatchling whose eye I took for his life. He doesn't do anything except nuzzle my shoulder, supporting me. The other hatchlings have gone back to sleep, but he stays with me. I continue to stumble up towards the entrance, determined to find the scent that smells like father. At the mouth to the cave, I see multiple dragons, all male, and all different ages. But the scent still comes from beyond them, although their scents smell strongly like father.
My hatchling continues to follow me as I climb out of the cave, looking for the scent that was so alike to the last time I smelt father. Once I've made it to the top of the entrance to the cave, I can see two dragons. One sleeps while the other stands guard.
"They won't sleep in the cave." My hatchling whispers. The scent becomes overpowering, and it smells exactly like father. The darkness keeps me from seeing details of the two dragons at the entrance, and the one standing guard wakes the other.
"Uncle, you should go sleep with my brothers. You don't have to push yourself this hard." He says, waking the other dragon. He shakes his head, standing and facing the emptiness beyond the cave, determined to remain. The dragon who woke him sighs, turning back to watching the darkness. I don't remember laying down, or falling asleep with my hatchling nestled with me.
I wake, chilled and my wound throbbing. I feel the back of another dragon behind me, he himself cold, but still attempting to keep me warm. I hear the dragon from last night, the one that didn't keep falling asleep, enter the cave, slipping behind me, and waking his uncle again.
"Uncle, you can't keep doing this. Let her heal. She doesn't know you." The older dragon refuses to move, and I slowly raise my head, looking at the two dragons in the light. I scramble backwards, waking my hatchling. The older dragon is father. He smiles gently at me, while the other dragon is upset at the older dragon, thinking he scared me.
"Father!" I cry, and the younger dragon jumps back suddenly. I nuzzle father's neck, and I see the scar left on his side from my barb, and his. I tear up, and soon tears are running down my face and onto father's scales. A trickle of moisture begins to run down my chest, and I see that I have begun to bleed again, steadily, even through the moss, creating a small puddle of blood. My hatchling begins to nudge me in the direction of the main cavern, and I reluctantly head that way. Father follows us down to the cave, and is about to stop following, but a pleading glance sent at him begs him to come, so he does. My sight begins to go blurry, and I start stumbling, which causes father to begin to support me. A short distance from the cave, I can hear fighting.
I blink, furiously trying to clear the blurriness in my eyes, and attempting to run. Father and my hatchling try to hold me back, but I break free, running and stumbling my way to the cave. I can hear father hurrying after me, along with my hatchling. The more I hurry, the more blood trickles out of the wound, soon turning into a steady trail of blood. I trip over a chip in the cave floor, sprawling onto my chest, ripping the moss off of my chest. The blood begins to rush out faster, now that the moss isn't covering the hole. The amount of blood soon pools as I scramble to my feet, even more dizzy and my sight even more blurry. I continue to stumble towards the main cavern, the blood I am losing creating a river that precedes me. The world spins, but I close my eyes and keep going, using my wingtips to guide me through the cave.
I can tell when I've reached the cave, because the fighting noises have stopped, and I can feel everyone staring at me. The blood sounds like a waterfall to me, and even with my eyes closed, the world spins. My knees buckle as father and my hatchling finally catch up to me. Father hauls me by the loose-ish skin and scales that hang on my tail, where my barb and scaled flesh meet. Every other dragon begins to growl at him, for touching their potential mate, but father roars back, louder than I would have thought of him,
"I'm sure a father can move his daughter!" The growls stop instantly, and knowing I have a a barb that can kill, the stares turn to his tail tip, where his barb is. The lumpy scar on his side from the poison also draws some attention. I sense another dragon approach, and unsure of who he is, I begin to attempt to whip him with my tail, but instead, I hit father. I hear him drop, and everyone hurriedly backs away from us as father scratches the top of where I hit, standing up and continuing to pull me. I can feel him shaking, and I slowly stand, my wings and tail, the barb folded back into my flesh, swing around to help me keep my balance. Blood continues to pour out of my wound, and after getting my bearings in the cave, keeping my eyes closed, I head in the direction where I know moss grows. I feel the moss, scraping it into a large ball, doing it as mother taught me, putting a certain rock on one side. I can still use fire in my near-dead state, and I heat my breath enough to melt one side together, the molten rocks binding it, leaving an absorbent side and a hardened side.
I hook the moss onto my scales around the wound. I then embed more of the rock onto the edges of the moss, and I breathe on it, melding it to my scales, and covering the wound entirely. My brain finally remembers that I've lost a lot of blood, and shuts me down, making me collapse, and making me sleep, or fall unconscious.
I can no longer feel Death. I am sure he hates me now, especially since I've found a way to seal the way he used to haunt me closed. I can tell that the wound is healing fast like this, but it pressurizes the blood that has collected in the wound. I open my eyes, and the feeling of father against my back comforting. I walk away from the ring of dragons, standing in a secluded hollow that only I know about. I breathe heated breath on the moss and rocks, the moss holding the molten stone in place, but it also lets the blood drain out of the wound. I slowly ease the temperature of my breath to its normal temperature, and letting the molten stone slowly solidify, sealing my wound again, this time without the pressurized blood. I return to the ring of dragons, laying down against father's back.
The next time I wake, I can tell that my wound is almost entirely healed, other than the scales being unable to grow while covered. I can tell that it's been days, possibly a few weeks, and I am starving. First, though, I have to remove the moss, to let my scales grow over the flesh. I hear other dragons moving around, and I climb to my feet, opening my eyes and heading to one of my hidden nooks. I hear at least six males begin to follow me, but I get around a corner that they can't see, and I head down the narrow, cramped passage, and about halfway, a medium sized cavern opens up. The cavern is just big enough for me to spread my wings from side to side, and just brush the edges with my wingtips.
I had found this place as a very young hatchling, and I soon found out that no one could find it twice, even if I showed them. I always believed some creature from mother's stories had made me a hidden place, just for me. I later grew out of that belief, recognizing the way it was hidden as father's handiwork. Father always had a knack at making things blend in, and I was the only one, including him, who could pick out his work, and where he hid things. He had forgotten about this one, so I made it my place.
I heat my breath up and melt the molten rock off of my scales, pulling the moss away. I scamper down the remainder of the passage, and I ram a boulder out of the way of the entrance. I walk out into the cold, breathing deeply. I toss the moss down the mountain, and I walk out a few steps. I feel confident enough to hunt, and I beat my wings, experimenting with my strength before I take off. I am much lighter than I normally am, and I take off, jumping and catching a updraft to help me along. I haven't flown since I was caught in the cold. The forest I would hunt in still remains, covered in white. I switch between drafts, saving my strength for flying back. Unlike other dragons, I do not fly and swoop while hunting.
I can, but I prefer to hunt on the ground, even though my colouring is better for the sky. So I land, the white being cold but not making much noise. I listen for prey, and I hear a herd of caribou to the right. I begin to stalk them, finding some of them in a valley. They're trapped, and the rest of the herd is a little while away. The caribou have one logical exit, and that is where they will head at a startling noise. I shove a pile of the white down the valley, and they stampede for the exit I expected them to run. I hurry over there, killing almost all of the herd as they run. I leave the calves, and a few females to escape. I killed many, enough for me and most of my hatchlings. I eat until my stomach is full, already feeling better with food in my stomach. Out of the 26 caribou, I've eaten 7 caribou, without the bones and fur. That leaves 19 caribou for my hatchlings. Normally, I would be able to carry three quarters back in one trip, but because of my wound, I won't take the chance. I pick up what I can't take back and I put them at the top of trees, and I take six back in my claws. I drop them at the main entrance, and the noise brings males, and they see me fly off before they take the caribou into the cave. I do this three times, and when I drop the last few, I keep one and I wing around to my hidden passage. I push the boulder across the entrance, and I go to my cavern.
I eat the caribou, leaving nothing but traces of blood, bones, and fur. I stretch my wings once before I fold them to my back, and I squeeze through the passage, back into the main passage. I head down towards the main cavern, and I smell the caribou I killed in there, dragons eating them. I know that I killed too few for my hatchlings, and I pause, debating on whether or not to go kill more, and I begin to run, decide to hunt more. I send pebbles flying as I turn, and males step art up the passage. I use the main entrance this time, taking a running start as I jump into the air. My wings ache slightly, but I catch a updraft quickly, flying high. The males jump out, looking for me, and they catch a glimpse of me as I dive down into the forest again.
The males are noisy, when on the ground. I have begun to stalk the caribou, and I find most of the herd under the close grown trees. They've found refuge from most of the dragons, but also set their own death trap, in a clearing. As they stand, they are unaware that I stand not far from them. I rush them, killing at least 100 before they find a path that they can escape at, since I block the main one they've been using. I am careful not to kill the calves, and mainly target the adult males, and the adult females, mainly the ones without calves. The males finally catch up to me, obviously not used to walking around, but better suited to flying, and they see my kills in the clearing, and they see me carrying them up to the trees.
When I have all but a few in the trees, I take eight this time, and I wing my way to the cave, using the drafts to save my energy. I've made two trips in the time it's taken the males to make one, and I slowly increase my load, finding that my wound, mostly healed other than scales, hasn't impacted me. On the third trip, I take my average of 15 caribou, and using the drafts, it doesn't affect my speed or the strain on my wings. Compared to me, the males are horrible fliers, and terribly slow as well. I wonder how they learned to fly. As I put my final load of caribou down, I leap into the air and I fly high. I go until I feel like my lungs will burst.
Then I dive.
