oh no, not again

The Dragon of Grief

Synopsis: An apprentice of beasts goes on a trip to discover the location of a mysterious legend from her Master’s collection.

“Are you sure that now is the right time to be doing this? Can’t you put it off?” Cohen asked, a worried look strewn across his rugged face, as I rushed to finish packing.

I took a deep sigh, my head hung slightly. “She was my best friend, my soul dog,’ I whisper, “and I now have to face the rest of my life without her by my side. Master Haem says that this is the perfect time of the season to make the trip. He had this ancient text that told of a treasure gifted to those who are worthy. No better time than the present for me to prove my worth.” 

I could hear his pacing from across the room. Cohen had always been the stoic one of the family, brief moments such as now were dappled amongst our history, giving light to the empathetic brother I had grown to love. I must look a mess to him. My dark brown hair hadn’t been tended to in over a week, making me grateful for the shortness of it- just barely brushing past my chin. Father once joked that it resembled one of the bird’s nests that I camped under each evening for my apprenticeship. He wasn’t wrong. Just a few nights prior, I had adorned some twigs into my hair after a restless slumber under the stars. My studies often took me out into the dark of the night to obtain information about the evening dwellers, making note of their activities and patterns for Master Haem’s research. 

Cohen began walking towards the door, “Your stubborn-ness is your vice, Willow.” He slows as he reaches for the latch, “I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.” The door closes firmly behind him.

No shame in being stubborn, I thought. She was stubborn and I loved her all the same.

Feeling tears well in my eyes, I took a deep breath and focused back on the task at hand. With no time to wallow, I continued packing my belongings ensuring I grabbed the field book, and I set out on my final task as ‘Apprentice Willow.”

☄

There was nothing more peaceful to me than the music of the wild. The land held a soft quietness, dusted with the songs of birds fluttering atop the canopy, and speckled with the random snap of a twig from some small forest dweller avoiding the human passing its home. My eyes pick up a small black blur off to my left, and by the time I turn my head, it patters off to hide behind another tree. I sense no malice, merely curiosity, and continue my trek through the forest- now unknowingly with a small and sleek escort.

As the sun begins to fall below the horizon, I find a soft, grassy spot beneath the pines and set up camp for the night. After roasting a small rabbit over the fire, I lay down on my furs with a rabbit leg in my hand and gaze up at the stars. A comet soars across the heavens, its tail shooting off and forming a shape that resembles a large dragon, something not seen in many a year. I remember Master Haem telling a tale of his time as a young bairn in the Eastern Mountains when he accidentally woke a slumbering beast named Fafnir, larger than the tallest building in the capital, and who simply puffed some smoke in his face before turning his head and falling back asleep. By the time Little Haem made it back to town and told the townsfolk, all that remained of the dragon were acres of downed trees, some charred ground, and a few sets of bones. Since then, the only dragons you’d come across were the ones you carry in your heart, always heavy and always present.

The next night after a laborious day of walking, I tearfully lay in camp with a head full of memories of her soft, dark fur and sharp, honey-brown eyes. A heavy breeze continues to sweep by every few minutes, almost as if being pushed by heavy wings. The clouds in the night sky race along with the breezes, and in a puffy, weeping haze, I think I see a large winged shadow pass across the night sky. The darkness engulfs my heart and I slumber restlessly.

Six sleeps and many miles later, the little black blur reveals itself. As I sit near the fire chewing on some leftovers, I notice a small face peering out from behind a nearby pine. The sunset glints against sleek black scales as it takes a few, slow steps out towards the flames. With a quick intake of breath I realize what the creature is: a dragon. A youngling not long off the nest by the looks of its small wings, their copper colored eyes full of caution, curiosity, and…hunger? 

Instinctually, I tear a small piece of meat off the skewer, “Hello, friend,” I breathe, careful so as not to scare it, “are you hungry?” I toss the piece towards the tiny dragon and watch as it rolls a little to the left but is quickly snatched up by sharp teeth. “You move so fast, like a streak;” A thought pops into my head. “Streak, that is what I’ll call you, friend. I’ll share what I can, and you’re welcome to be as you are.” Streak seems to give a nearly imperceptible nod, as if they understood and agreed. I can’t help but smirk, amused by this sleek creature covered in shiny black scales that shifts with the light. Master Haem always did refer to me as a ‘friend to all kinds.’ A small warmth flickers in the depths of my heart as I fall asleep that night.

⛰

It wasn’t until ten sleeps and a small mountain range later did we finally arrive at the marked location in Master Haem’s field book. Between two unassuming white aspens was a small path lined with stones guiding me to a cobblestone altar covered with flowers, both fresh and dried. Various charms and trinkets were situated amongst the flowers, laid with great care. I reach into my pocket and place a ribbon-tied handful of black fur onto the altar next to some dried marigolds. The gentlest breeze dances by, after which I feel a familiar warmth at my side and my heart briefly swells with hope. I look down to see a now-medium-sized Streak sitting politely beside me, looking into my eyes as if saying “I feel her too.” I don’t have time to ponder that thought before a pathway of wildflowers blossoms to the left of the altar, guiding me up towards the top of the mountain. 

It was nearing dusk as I reached a false peak, stepping into a small, empty clearing that led up to a large, shaded stone wall. Upon approaching the wall, I observe a faintly illuminated outline of a doorway with carvings in a language I’ve never seen before etched above. Its meaning is whispered in my ear, or in my head- I couldn’t tell. Streak is nowhere to be seen, and I wonder if this was her home all along. A nearly imperceptible twinkle sounds, and I step up to ‘The Door That Would Not Open’, placing my hand softly upon a previously concealed obsidian carving. It sang the story of two dragons, eternally fighting for dominance, forever entangled in each other's talons and wings. A soft hum emanates from the stone and the door turns inward.