Move.
Keep moving.
Faster.
Don't think.
Your thoughts will distract you.
Just move.
Find it.
Get out.
"There it is!"
"Don't let that hideous thing out of here!"
They could not hope to catch it. The SeaWing carried unparalleled grace in its movements. It cut through the Diamond Spray River like a hot knife, practically spearing fish on its talons as it shot through the crystal clear water. By the time the weapons of its pursuers broke the surface, it was already several yards ahead.
For this sibling group of MudWing bounty hunters, their dreams of earning the heavy reward on that dragon's head were similarly out of reach.
Only reasonably, for this was a creature of many names. Officially, as read the warrants for his capture, he was Nemichthys. Others referred to him as simply The Pirate, notorious for swift and unprecedented theft. Another popular term was The Atrocity. For obvious reasons.
In only a split second, the MudWings could see nothing but water, with no sign of an ultramarine javelin. Still, Nemichthys continued his plunge, surging against the current like a salmon in fast-forward. Enough was enough.
Having finally come into possession of a newly-made map of the continent, he was finally ready. In fact, his destination was likely already close by. It was just a matter of taking the right turn.
Such a thing was difficult with this blazing speed. For the sake of perspective, this was a dragon who had encircled the continent of Pyrrhia within two days. Finally, hoping to ensure he would not lose his way, Nemich launched out of the River as though from a catapult.
He was unstoppable in the water. Land was a different story. As expected of the land around the Diamond Spray, the only items visible were hills and mud. Hampering, difficult mud.
Perching on the grass near the riverbank, the SeaWing considered his options. The river led north. No good. The mountains visible in the distance led west. Better. But the river did not lead west. And Nemich was not compatible with mountains.
Perhaps he could search for a tributary. However, according to his memory of the map, many of those were back near the Delta, where more hunters were likely tracking him down.
From what he could surmise, many important names in the mercenary and bounty hunter business were on his case. He was infamous, after all. These people had spent countless days studying him, with habits and abilities.
So maybe it was time to do something they wouldn't expect.
For the first time in years, Nemichthys let his entire body leave water. It felt so unnatural, and in the muddy conditions, very unpleasant.
But he needed to get there. To Sanctuary.
From a distance, someone would see a strange snake-like thing the color of lapis lazuli wriggling clumsily across the marshland. With only two front legs to aid in travel, it was excruciating on his shoulders.
It was times like these where 'The Atrocity' felt like an apt title.
Nemich's sharply contrasted emerald eyes threatened to water as he struggled along, slow, but not without progress. They had forced him here. It would be woefully easy for a bird of prey to simply pick him up and fly away.
No one would know that a master thief could be feeling such self-loathing. They probably thought him a suave, confident, and cruel criminal with only money and resources on the mind. They likely wouldn't consider the repercussions that a lindwurm might face.
It has been proven through history that when people are oppressed, they turn to the only methods of survival they can. It is then up to those in power to pointlessly wonder why it is happening, unable to discover themselves as the cause.
Exhaustion set in quickly. The sun was beating down without mercy, hardening the mire to his claws and swiftly drying out his once well-saturated scales. Thirst arrived more swiftly than expected. He could not employ the same tactics for swimming in this sludge and muck. His only hope was that Sanctuary was not terribly distant from the river, or worse, sequestered in the mountains.
Nemichthys heard the telltale sounds of dragons. In these flat plains, there was little in terms of cover, and for him of course, looking up to see these strangers was laughably difficult. He could only bury himself in mud and pray that these were peaceful and inattentive travelers.
How the mighty have fallen. It was here, buried in mud, desperately searching for safety and at risk of discovery, that Nemich finally felt a despair that his oppressors had long hoped for him to give in to.
The feeling of being subhuman.
"Could have sworn I heard something," came a muffled voice. He made sure to restrict any sobs of misery, which caused his face to burn.
"Come on. We'll miss the show tonight if we stay much longer." The sounds retreated into the distance.
A show. Maybe he could do that. He already felt degraded enough. Why not be put on exhibit?
Despite his morose thoughts, the lindwurm eventually detached himself from the cakey clay prison, and seeing the surroundings as safe once more, continued the painful journey. Now his body was as dirty as he felt.
Regardless, the SeaWing at last arrived. He had lost all concept of time; the strenuous journey across the flats had likely lasted several hours. The slope of a mountain now stared chidingly at him, berating him for being unable to climb or fly past it. Instead, a much more respectful forest to the side beckoned.
With a deep sigh that got buried in his throat, he hobbled along in that direction. A growl of the stomach caught his attention, but the pieces of fish that had been stuck on his claws moments ago had been removed in the sticky mud. Not much else to do about it.
The thick and inviting forest was thankfully much more secure, offering aerial coverage. Camouflage however, would be no use here, as his solid, almost glowing deep blue scales stuck out through gaps in the muddy covering.
His seemingly pointless quest went on for more hours. Perhaps night had fallen by now, but the thick canopy restricted it all.
No ponds. What kind of forest doesn't have a pond? Instead, Nemich leaned alongside a fallen tree trunk to rest. His entire body, the length of three regular dragons from nose to tail-tip, spilled over the log like cream. He wasn't aware of any path nearby, so the worry of strangers was minimal.
The progression of time was lost on him. He woke up startled, having failed to realize his falling asleep, but he was in the same place and unharmed. How long had it been now?
The need of water was beginning to become a horseman of death. Withdrawal was thick in every part of his body.
Yet no sign of Sanctuary.
Forward. Nemichthys had nowhere to go but forward.
More hours. More nothing. More wandering. More doom, scrabbling closer to his scales with every second.
There was no one else to blame. He alone had made this gamble, and lost. Now the debt collector had come.
His only arms, forever his faithful companions, now burned and seethed with pain. His tail half had dragged numbly forward through an unspeakable amount of filth. Nemich likely looked like a brutalized corpse.
And still, despite his sudden thirst and starvation, his degradation of mind that had been onset so pitifully early, he still moved. It was a void choice, only performed for his redefined goal: to not die sitting still. He would go down moving. Proof to the world that he would not give in so easily.
Natural function had other plans. At some point, his brain overrode his heart, and commanded all non-essential movement to stop in a last-ditch effort to preserve life. Nemichthys crumbled like a withering rose.
His slithering body coiled up into itself until he was no larger than a tree stump, completing the shriveling concept.
Perhaps he had searched in the wrong place. Maybe it was only a few feet ahead of him. It could be that Sanctuary was a complete lie and simply did not exist.
No matter. Death would no doubt be a service to the world. The sea would no longer fear its dreaded Atrocity, and whatever horrid genetic malfunction that caused his amelia would be snuffed out, never to pass on.
A final glimmer of liveliness allowed him to sense an approaching creature. Rustles came through the foliage, and he could hear...humming. It was a pleasant melody, singing him off to eternal sleep...
Someone stepped on him.
It was a final laugh for the universe, to be sure. He could hardly feel it, only aware of the pressure. Forget trying to look around. Blackness was creeping into his peripheral.
"Oh dear! I'm so sorry, I didn't expect—" There came a gasp. And then a scream. Nemich remained there, dying. What choice did he have?
After a brief moment, with tendrils of nothing sliding up his coil from the innermost, he could feel the stranger approach. Their shaky breathing got rather close to his face. "M—moons above. You're still alive." Hardly, he mentally mused, though thinking words hurt just as immensely as trying to speak them. A final splash of humor to lighten up the end of a life.
Nemich numbly felt more contact. Claws on his body. They could do with him what they willed. Bury, study, eat. What good would it do?
Being lifted was too much for his fragile consciousness. He feared his brain would slide out like that of a shaken unhatched, before remembering that it wouldn't matter.
The world then disappeared, which he could feel was no doubt the end.
--
Gentleheart was no stranger to cruelty. After all, she was a dragon living in Sanctuary. They had all seen something or other.
In her case, it was a hated reputation and a general society. Her parents had been heavily indoctrinated in NightWing superiority, having lived on the volcanic island of several years ago for nearly their whole lives. They were not nice people, by no stretch of the imagination. For this reason, they did not get along with their daughter, who had a very accurate name. Such prejudice did not sit well with her, nor the imprisonment of the RainWings, so she had adapted to a new life in the rainforest rather well.
This change was beset by more problems, other NightWings being cranky and some RainWings being not accepting, and she had witnessed some acts of violence. Even worse was the appearance of the Darkstalker a while back, when she had fought in and thankfully survived the Battle of Jade Mountain. That was a sight of even more hatred, death, and horrific acts. Gentleheart had then moved to Sanctuary fairly soon after it was established, in part to get away from her parents.
So yes, she had seen and experienced a fair enough share of cruel behavior, witnessing the worse parts of dragon kind.
But her newest discovery chilled Gentleheart's gentle heart straight to the core.
Moons, it hurt to even look. She couldn't bear the sight, but as a dragon living in a place of acceptance, she felt bad about that as well. It was just...barbaric.
It was a miracle that SeaWing was still alive. It was impressive in and of itself that they had made it all the way here, inland.
A shuddering thought kept replaying in her mind. She had swiftly brought them back to Sanctuary, and rinsed the mud from their body in the pond, hoping the water might somehow revive the dragon. Instead, they unfolded, and the coiled up back half that had looked like a pill bug unfurled out into a body the length of at least three dragons.
For a Sanctuary person, with hybrids and scavenger-friends all around, it was somehow still bizarre. And yet, beautiful. And yet still, horrifying.
With no result from the water, she brought them to Sage, a RainWing that served as Sanctuary's impromptu healing dragon.
But that image of the lifeless, snake-like SeaWing floating limply in the water would not leave her head.
She was probably too late. They had been minutes from moving on when Gentleheart found them. No one would ever know what they were.
As of now, Gen was hovering awkwardly outside of her ramshackle home, occasionally pacing. Sage's workplace was a few houses down.
She was waiting for any news, be it good or bad, but what she received first was a Winter.
The unofficial head of Sanctuary was an odd dragon, fittingly. He was slightly temperamental, but still cared for others, and everyone knew he was easily the most obsessed with scavengers. She regarded Winter with a kind respect, and despite the feud of their tribes, he was generally amiable as well. That was why Gentleheart loved Sanctuary so much; it ignored all dumb stipulations that tribes and their grudges imposed.
"Evening, Gen," the IceWing opened, polite but seemingly in a hurry as he approached, and somewhat anxious as well.
"What's up, Winter?" She asked, getting to the point for him.
"Is Sage around? Pumpkin took a fall trying to escape her cage again, and I fear she's hurt." As stated. Obsessed with scavengers. The NightWing of the two cast a worried glance at the structure down the way, her midnight blue eyes twinkling as the moons rose.
"She's treating someone right now." Gen didn't elaborate further, only planning to do so if Winter requested it. However, the following awkward silence was too much. "I, um, found a wounded dragon just outside of Sanctuary. I assumed they were trying to get here." He looked at her curiously, with a hint of interrogation in his gaze.
"Is it a closed-door treatment?"
"N-not exactly." She cursed herself for telling the truth when Winter began towards Sage's building. How will he react? We've never dealt with something like this before. "Hey, w-wait a minute. I don't think we should disturb Sage. The patient was in critical condition."
He sent her a glare, and the easily silenced Gentleheart immediately floundered. However, seeing Winter with such confidence inspired her, so she followed him to the makeshift infirmary. The IceWing knocked twice.
"Enter if it's needed!" Sage sounded under duress. Gen gulped, finding this worrying. Could they not be saved?
Without any such stress, Winter leisurely opened the door, but he soon took a double take. Gen peered over his shoulder to see why and got a shudder of sorrowful fear.
The dragon was sprawled across a boulder covered with vines and shrubbery, Sage's version of a cot. However, their body was too long, and a majority of the tail was spilling off onto the floor. The healer was jumping about and grabbing things from her crudely-crafted shelves, looking in an awful hurry.
Without necessarily thinking, Gentleheart was able to move past the stunning horror of the two-limbed dragon, pushing Winter aside and hurrying into the room to help. Sage, understanding, pointed and gave orders for her to gather bottles and bowls of concoctions.
"I'm trying everything I know," the wise and kind-spirited dragoness said, hastily mixing together some herbs. "There's still some faint breathing, but pulse is weak and other vitals are barely passing. I can't tell if there might be something I'm missing due to their unusual biology."
"I'm guessing it's a SeaWing," said Winter, finally exiting his stupor. He still did not seem comfortable with the stranger at all, but he was able to take action under the circumstances. "Have you tried grand exposure to water?"
"I dipped them in the lake on the way here, but it didn't seem to affect anything."
"We might need to go extreme." Sage drifted some minced greens into the patient's maw which was slightly ajar. "A controlled freeze with Winter's ice breath could kick in blood flow and brain function." Gen feared such an outcome; she didn't want them in more pain than they were certainly already in.
She got a rather pointless idea and searched around. There; a small jug of simply water. While Sage and Winter debated a course of action, she gently lifted the SeaWing's head until she was sure the path down the throat was open.
It was a risk, as this could hamper their breathing. On the other talon, maybe the herbs weren't working because they needed to be washed down. Maybe some form of sustenance would convince their body to exit 'dying mode'.
Yeah. I'm not a medical expert.
Regardless, she tipped the jug to their maw.
"Here. You likely need this. Please. It will replenish your body fluids...or something. I think." One more moment of gaining courage, and down the hatch. Fortunately, the water seemed to at least go down. Hopefully down the right esophagus. Otherwise, she had just flooded their lungs.
Tense moments of nothing, of silence. Then suddenly, she felt a slight twitch in the muscles of their neck. Then a sharper inhale that sounded more in control.
Moons, wow. I did it.
Sage whirled back around with a 'Wha?' of surprise, now aware of what had just been happening. As much as she felt very strange right now, Gentleheart maintained her position to keep them upright as the process continued. The herbs, intended to more or less shock them awake with sharp aromas and some powerful pain killers, were steadily taking effect, proven by a clenching of one of their only two talons.
She swirled her tail anxiously, hoping to see them make it out. She of course had to apologize for stepping on them in the woods, and her curiosity was another factor.
And saving a life always feels good.
Gen was then treated to an even bigger surprise; she discovered two eyes of a shamrock green color staring back at her own. It was a large contrast to their hyper-blue scales, but she couldn't focus. This dragon needed an incredibly strong will to recover from the brink of death so quickly.
The patient stayed silent and rigid, watching her with trepidation and patience at the same time. She was, after all, holding them up in this rather intimate manner. "Hello. You're better now. At least I hope you're feeling better. Is there anything you would like? More water?" After a studious pause, they gave a small gesture that looked close to a nod. Winter scooped up several jars and was off within a second.
"Please, rest and relax. You're safe now. You made it to Sanctuary." She heard their tail thump the wall, prompting a soft cry of surprise from Sage. Still, the only response given was a long and slow blink of the eyes. Was that relief? It was impossible to tell. "Here then. Let's just..." Slowly, she set them back down, and the long dragon seemed in control of their body once more, flipping upright onto their belly. They had to support their head with only those two arms in the front, and it looked insanely painful and difficult.
But what else could they do?
"My name is Gentleheart." Their eyes darted over in recognition. "And over there is Sage. She's a healing dragon." Somewhat embarrassed, the RainWing subtly hid behind her wings. It reminded Gen that the patient lacked an ability to fly altogether.
Sadly, they did not respond with a name, sweeping their gaze around the room. After a moment longer, Winter returned, but he had significantly less containers of water than he had left with. His face was low and dangerous, something Gen rarely saw, and it terrified her.
"We have a problem." Her scales went on end. "I run a collection of capture warrants, wanted posters, and other such alerts to avoid harboring any dangerous criminals here in Sanctuary. Our guest here turns out to be on that list. This is a dragon by the name of Nemichthys, and he is wanted for several charges of high-level larceny."
Nemichthys...that's a cool name...wait, a criminal?!
Everyone in the room warily turned their attention to Nemichthys, who remained in place, staring at Winter with the same empty expression. "Well?" The IceWing demanded. "Aren't you going to try and fight or escape?"
How would he? It was a dark thought that came quickly, and Gen instantly chastised herself for thinking it. He was probably a better fighter than her regardless.
Instead, a hesitant silence came. And then...
"The reward money is more than I could offer as payment for my revival."
He had a quiet voice, flat and with little fluctuation. Every ounce of the response seemed calculated and well thought out.
But instead of Winter rushing forward to restrain him as she had thought, everyone remained locked in place.
Perhaps they shared Gentleheart's pressing question: how could this dragon be such a capable thief? It was an insensitive quandary, but also one that needed an answer. Could he be trusted to keep around Sanctuary?
She noticed Nemichthys eying the water Winter was still holding. It gave her more of an idea. In hindsight, she probably only believed this to convince herself that Nemichthys was not a bad person, but it was still more compelling.
Of course. That has to be it.
She pulled Winter away a bit to avoid them being heard.
"I've got it," Gen whispered. "I think he's a survival criminal. Stealing food and provisions. Why else?"
"He's clearly made a name for himself," Winter huffed, looking somewhat suspicious of the concept. He thought about it for a moment. "I suppose we don't have many valuables here. But keeping him here could be a liability. If any dragons track him here in search of the reward, we'll have trouble for the other residents."
Yes, that was a good point. But—well... Winter sighed. "I can see how you feel, Gen. Very well. On your request, Nemichthys is welcome in Sanctuary. But any fallout is going on your shoulders." That was a fair deal that she could understand.
"Oh, thank you." She considered offering a grateful hug, but he wasn't that sort of dragon. The NightWing instead approached Nemichthys, a wide smile on her face. "We won't worry about that whole thing. So will you be staying?" He rested his head on one fist.
"Where else can I go?" It was matter-of-fact. The decision filled her with joy. Now she could know everything. And not have that blemish on her conscience anymore. She crouched a bit so they were on the same level.
"I'm terribly sorry for what happened to you."
"What do you mean?" Her once good-intentioned empathy halted. Huh? Was it just so long ago that he had blanked it out? He must have read it on her face.
"I see. You can take your sorry back. I did not lose my limbs.
"I was born this way."
