Hello, everyone! Yes, thats right! This story is back! I know, I know. I said this was a one-shot. Well, now it's a series of one-shots since I don't have time to put everyone's pasts into Legend of the LightFury. I am sad to announce that I will not respond to reviews on this story. I will, however, continue to do so in the main story.
I will try to update every Wednesday on this one. I know this is early, but I couldnt wait. I'll update LotLF tomorrow! Okay Here it goes!
-Dot-
A tiny Terrible Terror curled up with his brothers and sisters next to the fire, but he wouldn't stay there long. The Terror's siblings were pushy and short-tempered. And Dot wasn't particularly quiet.
::Hey guys! You wanna play Hide and go Kill?!:: Asked the excited Terror named Dot.
::Go away.:: said one.
::No one wants you here.::
::Yeah, you're like... loud.:: The rest of the Terrors closed their eyes for a nap. Not Dot. He paused for a moment, blinking at his siblings.
::But don't you wanna play a game?::
Ditter, one of the older Terrors sighed.
::No. We're tired. Get lost.:: Ditter closed his eyes. Dot Started bouncing off the walls.
::But it's not even dark yet!::
::DOT! GO AWAY! NO ONE WANTS YOU HERE!:: The rest of the Terrors nodded their heads in agreement. Dot shrunk down to nothing more than... well... a Dot, and curled his tail between his legs as he left. Dot looked up. The room was made of wood, a few chairs and tables gathered around. There was a wood bench in the far left corner, and he hid under it. He curled up in a ball and drifted off to sleep.
...
A loud bump broke through the silence, waking up the little green dragon. He blinked once, then his green eyes fluttered open. What he saw shocked him to the bone. All his siblings were scattered around the room, dead asleep. He knew they weren't actually dead of course. He saw eyes flutter and wings twitch. Every one. Asleep. A small human girl was crying off in a corner while a tall human man stuffed each one of Dot's many siblings into sacks. Shock struck the little Terror's face. What had they done? What were they going to do with them? Dot pressed himself against the wall.
"I'm sorry Penny. We can't have them. Just one eats us out of house and home. We have to feed ourselves first. We come first." The man kept stuffing them into the sacks.
"What are you going to do with them?" The girl sobbed.
"I'm going to find them new homes. Lots of people will love them and take care of them. Just like you did."
Dot caught a glimpse of the man's face as he bent down to get another. His eyes were full of grief and sorrow, his expression guilty.
"But dad, couldn't we keep just one? Only one?" The girl pleaded. The man sighed.
"No, Penny. For the last time, NO!"
The girl's eyes widened and Dot saw her feet running out the exit, sobbing filling his ears. The man sighed, sitting on the ground, and putting his head in his hands. Dot could tell it hurt the man to say that. It hurt him to say no to his daughter.
The man cried. Dot had never seen a full-grown male human cry. It shocked him. The man cried for a long time. Dot couldn't tell when he would stop. All he knew is that he couldn't take it.
So Dot crept out of his little spot, his tail between his legs, his eyes wide and innocent. His body was low to the ground as he approached the human. The man's head rose as he looked at the small creature.
"Wha- what are ye doing awake?" He asked. The man had poisoned the water that he had the Terrors drink. Of course, he thought that they would share with each other. And they did. But they didn't share with Dot. The Terror paused for a moment, then crept close to the human, curling up against him, still looking up with wide eyes. The human placed a hand on the Terror's back and started stroking his scales. The Terror purred. The human sighed.
"I'm sorry, little one." Then he grabbed Dot and put him in a bag, not tying it tight enough, hoping that the little Terror would get out. He continued gathering up the Terrors.
When he got them all, he tied the sacks, leaving about five the way he had done the awake one. One sack squealed. Only one. A tear crept down the man's face as he took them to the river, and one by one, flung them in. He paused on the last one, taking one last look at the bag that held the awake Terror. More tears fell from his face as he flung it in the river.
He watched it go, watching it writhe and squeal and scream. When the man got back to his house, he took one look at his sleeping daughter, and cried.
...
Dot felt the water pour into the sack, bit by bit closing in on his nose. Panic took over his body, and he thrashed against the walls of the sack. Everything was so dark. He squealed in terror, fighting his hardest against the closing in walls. Water rushed in, filling the sack all the way. Dot held his breath, holding out against the pressure. He felt something hit the bottom of the sack. Mushy and different. He frantically held his breath a little longer, and finally released. He took water in through his mouth and sputtered a little, then with a surprise he found that he wasn't dead. He took another gulp in. It... was alright. He was breathing. Not dead. Not at all. But there still was a problem. He couldn't get out of the sack.
He thrashed against the sack again, his efforts slowed by the pressure of the water. The walls were obviously not going to move. He felt around the sack, feeling the water rushing in and out. He found a place that wasn't like the rest. It was folded and crinkled, and he could feel a bump there.
The Terror stretched against the sack all he could, then hit the bump as hard as he could muster.
To his surprise, it gave way. He blinked, then swam out as quickly as he could, reaching the surface. He sputtered, choking out all the water out of his lungs. He gasped for air as the water rapids pulled him back under the water. He gasped as he resurfaced, crashing into a rock. He yelped, them sunk his claws into the moss, pulling himself up.
As soon as Dot recovered, he looked up. He was in a forest, a river raging around him. He was alone. All alone. Worse, he had no idea where he was.
He cried out for help in terror, but his cry was not heard, or if it was, ignored.
He was alone.
