#dragon wrote

“So, what happens now?” Glow Claw asks. White Throat and Mimo are back at their camp. Fire Wing sulks a few lengths away since it was made clear nobody was interested in her idea to return to the clan.

Mimo considers the question. He has never been so free to choose what to do or where to go. And his best friends are willing to follow him wherever he chooses to lead them, regardless of danger, abandoning their clan loyalties, choosing him – him – over all they have been familiar with, over all they have known to be real and true and right. The bigness of the world and his infinite choices threaten to overwhelm his thoughts. Suppose he fails them? Suppose he leads them to their deaths?

“Trouble is inevitable, flightless dragon,” Awze's words return unbidden to Mimo's mind. “No matter where you go from here, pain waits."

Pain waits. To go back to the clan will bring punishment, possibly banishment, maybe a death sentence. To go forward into the unknown will bring – what?

Pain waits.

Mimo looks at White Throat and Dark Claw, both already badly injured, but also looking stronger and healthier than even a day ago. What pain could stop them? White Throat has had the worst of it, and he is still willing to go forward. Mimo need only lead him. Such trust and confidence in him bolsters Mimo's faith in himself. Pain may be waiting, but it will find him and his companions to be formidable foes.

Glow Claw can’t comprehend what has just transpired. As he watches Strange One stalk away, Fire Wing crouching just outside their nest dominates his vision.

“What’s the matter with you?” Glow Claw demands of her. “We were all fine until you showed up.”

“Oh, were you really?” Fire Wing snaps back. “Dark Claw looks like he’s been nearly gutted, you have White Throat here in ribbons, and you’re ‘fine?’”

“At least Strange One was still our friend,” Glow Claw retorts. “Look at him, now! You’ve made him one of those- those” – he still can’t bring himself to say the word – “monsters!”

“I came to help,” Fire Wing argues. “The Elders don’t want Strange One or any of you back, but I think Hook Fang will come for White Throat. I came to warn you so you could plan a return and an explanation for the Elders that doesn’t sound like you all abandoned the clan.”

“Wait. What?” Glow Claw asks.

“What are you talking about?” asks White Throat.

Fire Wing settles herself to explain. “You all disappeared,” she says. “The Elders think Strange One finally left of his own accord, and since you guys are so close with him, they think you abandoned the clan to go with him to your deaths.” White Throat snorts in disgust. Fire Wing continues, “They don’t care what happens to Strange One. You two,” she says, looking at each of the twins, “make them uncomfortable, so they don’t care about losing you, either, but you,” her gaze shifts to White Throat, “Hook Fang wants you back, and you know Hook Fang gets what he wants even if it goes against the Elders’ orders.”

Jaws drop as Fire Wing’s statements sink in.

“But Strange One has worked so hard,” Glow Claw starts.

“They don’t care about us?” Dark Claw asks.

“What do you mean ‘even if it goes against the Elders’ orders?’” White Throat demands to know.

Fire Wing doesn’t like being questioned. She shakes her head irritably. “No, no! See, all we have to do is tell the Elders you went together on an extended hunting trip – you know, like what some bands will do sometimes. If we can find something exotic to bring back, it will support this claim. Everyone comes home, and everything goes back to the way it was!”

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” White Throat grunts, lurching stiffly to his feet. “Didn’t you just hear yourself? Dark Claw, Glow Claw, and Strange One aren’t wanted. Hook Fang may want me back, but you say that’s against the Elders’ orders, too?” He half laughs, half coughs. “For once, I’m happy to oblige them.” He limps awkwardly from the nest, but each step he takes is stronger, more confident.

Glow Claw stumbles quickly after White Throat, brushing clumsily past Fire Wing. “White Throat, wait!” he cries desperately. “What will we do?”

“I’m going to talk to Strange One,” White Throat replies over his shoulder. “We’ll think of something.”

Stripe cat scent is heavy in the air. Star Fall’s mind finally clears enough to acknowledge what he has stumbled into. Not one, but two large orange, black, and white faces stare back at him in surprise. They are young - not so young as to still need their mother’s guidance – bachelor brothers who had just brought down a small bush deer. A single small deer is not enough to satiate two nearly adult male stripe cats, but add an adult dragon to the menu, and they both could relax with full bellies for a couple of days.

The stripe cats leap quickly. Star Fall meets the first with teeth and claws. He still needs a clearing adequate to spread his wings to take flight. The grass is too long to clear in a launching leap.

Claws and fangs meet fur and scales. Star Fall is an experienced fighter. He knows the stripe cats can easily kill him, but if he handles himself well, he just might survive this day.

He slips to the side of the first cat as it rushes him and ducks his head under its attack, dodging its powerful jaws and allowing the beast’s claws to rake across the tough scales covering the upper part of his neck. He keeps his wings folded tightly against his body. He can’t afford damage to them if he expects to fly again. The second cat is on him the next instant, wrapping him in a deadly embrace of claws and teeth. They tumble together against tussocks of grass, flattening a few while others redirect their struggle.

These stripe cats know little of killing dragons. The cat’s bite is short of the base where Star Fall’s head and neck meet, where a killing bite could sever his nerves and end his struggle. Star Fall tosses his head back, battering the stripe cat with his horns. The beast releases its jaws but does not relinquish its grip on Star Fall’s body.

The first cat returns, jaws open to rip open Star Fall’s exposed neck. Star Fall’s claws are hampered by the grip on his shoulders of the cat on his back, but he is quick with his teeth. He snaps at the first cat’s nose. Gripping its muzzle in his teeth, he shakes his head, worrying the heavy stripe cat’s head as it yowls in pain and anger.

The second cat releases its grip to shift for a better angle to Star Fall’s neck. Star Fall rolls beneath it, slashing with all four sets of claws. The beast falls back. Quickly, Star Fall regains his feet. The battle has flattened enough grass, he can spread his wings. He leaps, wings wide for the first powerful downstroke that will carry him away from death’s claws. As his wings descend, one of the stripe cats leaps behind him, catching a foot in its teeth and claws, dragging him back to earth, back to the ready claws and teeth of the brother, which is ready for the dragon’s soft underside.

Star Fall sees the shadows in the grass below him gathering together as he is dragged down. The menacing whisper, They’re coming! echoes once more in his mind.

He falls into the waiting claws of the stripe cats. Jaws clamp onto his neck. Another set of teeth catches the arm bones of his wing. He feels the piercing pain, the pressure, and he hears the crunch as the bones shatter in the stripe cat’s jaws. The beast holding his neck closes its jaws further. Star Fall chokes on his own blood filling his windpipe, but he cannot cough through the cat’s death grip.

His struggles are done. He is finished. Shadows swallow the sunlight in his eyes.

They’re here.

Star Fall halts his flight at the river, his head clearing of the panicked fog. What had frightened him? He hasn’t been that scared since…

He shakes his head to clear the memory. Such things are for nestlings to keep them from wandering at night. Adults know the stories aren’t real.

Then how did it suddenly become real again?

That creature is to blame. Its colors changed like the Strange One’s often do. The cowardly beast used a trick that stopped him killing it. Tricks are for the weak.

The day is growing hot again. Star Fall quenches his thirst in the river and briefly considers fishing out a snack, but he doesn’t much care for fish. He prefers meat from land beasts.

He must return to White Throat’s group – if White Throat is even still alive. He’ll track them down if they have moved on, destroy the Strange One and his fellow, and bring his kind back to the clan to which they belong. He is just turning from the river when something hard sharply strikes his cheek. A bubbling, mocking chortle follows, shooting heat into Star Fall’s blood. Whirling around back to the river, Star Fall searches for the source. All he sees is the water, flowing and splashing over the rocks and boulders making up the boofles’ ford. He sees no other creature at the river in the hot midday sun. His low growl ends with a grunt, and he turns again to leave the river bank when another sharp sting strikes his shoulder quickly followed by one at his neck. More mocking laughter sounds over the river’s flow. Star Fall’s head whips about again, and he catches a glimpse of a reptilian tail disappearing behind a boulder.

With an angry roar, Star Fall splashes through the water to the boulder, ready to end whatever creature has dared to mock him. He is Star Fall. He is feared and respected, and no creature makes sport of him. A barrage of tiny stinging stones meets his charge. Ignoring them, he leaps to the top of the boulder, jaws wide to snap up the creature behind it. They close on a small, wriggling lizard unlucky enough to fall back as quickly as its companions. Star Fall holds the creature in his jaws, glaring down his snout at a half dozen small river lizards now cowering in the water below him.

This suits him better. Fear. He controls others with fear, not the other way around. To press his point, he clenches his jaws tightly on the wriggling body in his mouth, relishing the tiny squeal that is cut short as the body goes limp. He flips the morsel in his mouth and swallows it, glaring menacingly at the others.

They don’t move. They should be terrified. Why aren’t they scattering in panic for their very lives? One by one, as they absorb the shock of Star Fall’s callous display, their faces harden, eyes narrowing. Star Fall realizes suddenly that the ford is full of the lizards, all silently staring at him, but, he senses, not in fear or without purpose.

Star Fall snorts. Their purpose is meaningless. He is Star Fall, and he has a mission to complete. He spreads his wings to take to the sky and pauses a moment to confirm his impressive wingspan has solidly cowed the river lizards. He does not expect their reaction.

The lizards, as one, mob him suddenly, frills flared and hissing in fury. Star Fall is taken aback by their rush. Though they are small, there are so many and they are so agilely avoiding his jaws, he cannot effectively swat them away. They weigh down his wings, keeping him grounded. Their teeth are too tiny to pierce his thick scales, so they attack his softer underbelly and swarm about his eyes.

Star Fall throws himself into the water, but there is no relief there, since it is too shallow to cover him, and the lizards thrive in the element. Shaking loose as many as he can, snapping and swatting uselessly, Star Fall flees for the shore. On the dry, dusty ground, the lizards abruptly halt their attack, retreating to their watery home where they gather, piled together on the nearest boulder, hissing angrily at Star Fall.

Anxious to put this place behind him, Star Fall once again turns to go, but a fresh new fear halts him. The shadows cast on the ground by the river lizards gathered on the boulder coalesce into something much more menacing and more recently real. The frightening stories and nightmares he had known as a nestling return in a rush along with the hissed warning, They’re coming!

The terror returns, driving Star Fall clumsily up the bank away from the hissing, away from the mocking, and away from the menacing shadow that inexplicably resurrects long forgotten fears. Long grass fouls his wings, so he cannot take flight. He blunders blindly through the grass, wanting nothing more than enough space to spread his wings and take to the sky. A musty, earthy scent teases his nose, but its meaning doesn’t break through the fear clouding his mind. He must get away, get home, back to the safety of his nest and the presence of his clan.

The stream water is cold.  Strange One’s fur fluffs against the chill as he supports White Throat in the current. White Throat’s scales pucker, as well, but Awze appears utterly unaffected.  But she isn’t submerged to her shoulders, Strange One thinks, his teeth beginning to chatter.

Awze’s expression is unreadable as she washes White Throat’s scarcely-healed wounds.  From time to time, her brow creases, but she says nothing.  White Throat’s dark red blood turns bright as it mixes with the cold stream water and washes downstream. Strange One worries about the amount of blood his friend is losing.  He has heard of dragons bleeding to death.  Surely Awze would not let that happen, would she?  What do they know of her, after all?  Only that she is one of his own kind.  What would she care of an injured member of another dragon species?  Why are they trusting her?  Well, what other options do they have, really?

Awze’s brow furrows again, and she squints, peering closer at a particularly deep and painful laceration on White Throat’s neck.  “What’s this?” she wonders.  To White Throat, she says, “Try to relax.  There’s something in this wound that I don’t think belongs to you.”  To Strange One, she adds, “You should hold him still.”

White Throat is hardly braced before Awze’s claws are deep in the wound.  Instinctively, he thrashes, trying to escape the fresh wave of pain, kicking out with claws and bared teeth.  Awze dodges deftly without removing her claws from the wound.  She flashes her vivid gold eyes, darkened somewhat with anxiety, to Strange One and shouts, “Hold him, or he will be further damaged!”

Strange One embraces his friend tightly, trying not to hear White Throat’s angry growls and painful whimpers, restraining his shoulders and head so Awze can complete her work, which is done rather quickly.  All three are soaked with cold stream water when Awze triumphantly raises the sickle shaped foreign object for them to see.

“She shed a claw in you!” Awze states in amazement.

There is no time to wonder further, as out of the sky, an orange and red burst of fury collides full into Awze with an angry battle roar.

Awze tumbles back into the stream with a startled squawk.  The attack is completely unexpected, and she has no idea what has hit her.  Strange One recognizes the fiery-scaled assailant immediately, however, and, releasing White Throat, rushes to Awze’s aid to pull Fire Wing away.

“Fire Wing, stop!” Strange One shouts over Fire Wing’s battle snarls. “She’s here to help us!”  Fire Wing is small enough for Strange One to pull off Awze.  He dunks her in the stream, shocking her and breaking her focus.  Surfacing, she looks at Strange One as if noticing him for the first time.

“Strange One!” she gasps, “but White Throat…” she falters.

“Awze is helping us,” Strange One repeats, but he gets nothing more out when a deeper, louder, mightier battle roar rattles them all to their cores, and a massive mottled blue meteor barrels into Awze.  She is thrown clear of the stream into the shrubbery on the bank.

Star Fall leaps, pressing his attack.  Awze feints back, struggling to get her bearings.  She has not fought, not even sparred, for a long time, and this beast attacking her is far more massive than any she has faced on her own.  A tentative probe tells her he is blind with rage and a singular goal to tear her throat out!  That graphically bloody thought strikes her so forcefully, she actually halts her retreat, unable to process such a thought.  Her pause proves folly, though, as Star Fall lunges, jaws wide, and sinks his teeth into her neck!  But no.  His teeth close onto nothing but feathers, and Awze is able to draw away again with a patch of plumage missing from beneath her jaws.  She counters with claws aiming for her attacker’s eyes.  A beast that cannot see cannot attack.  Her claws glance off the horns and heavy ridges around his eyes, but she makes him flinch ever so slightly, and Awze is able to slip out of his reach again.

I'm not built for this, Awze thinks.  He’ll kill me if I can’t turn him away.

Strange One can only watch in shock as Star Fall, a much respected and feared member of the tribe he calls family, ruthlessly pursues the only other member of his species he has ever met.  When Star Fall’s jaws close on Awze’s throat, he is certain it’s over for her.  It’s miraculous when she flails away, losing nothing more than feathers.  Her colors are fading, though.  What does that mean?  He remembers his dream.  Fear.  Pale grey is the color of fear.  Star Fall wants to kill her.  He can kill her, and he will, and she knows it.  Strange One’s heart stops, then, as Star Fall once more knocks Awze to the ground.  He pins her this time.  It’s over now.  Star Fall will tear her throat out, and she’ll be dead.  And there’s no telling what consequences he and his friends will face afterward.  Strange One doesn’t want to watch the killing, but just before he turns his eyes away, he notices something.  Star Fall hesitates, shaking his head.  Awze’s colors are gone, but she is not pale grey; she is nearly black.  And her eyes… her eyes are red!

Star Fall doesn’t understand what is happening.  He was filled with rage just a moment ago, driven to protect a wounded member of his clan.  He would kill the foreign creature and the Strange One who obviously was helping it, then take his kind back home where they belong.  But now he is overcome with uncertainty – a feeling he is not familiar with – and… Fear.  Dread.  They’re coming!  Confusion leading to panic clear on his face, he looks down at the creature he’d been battling.  It looks different now, darker, terrifying even.  It glares menacingly at him.

”They’re coming!” it hisses.

Overwhelmed with terror, Star Fall leaps for the sky, beating his wings for altitude and speed as if that is his sole purpose in life.  And it is, if he wishes to live.

Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, Strange One slowly, hesitantly approaches Awze.  His dragon fellow slowly rises to her feet looking dazed and exhausted.

“H-how?  Wh-what?” Strange One stutters, unsure of what exactly it is he is trying to ask.

Never in her life has Awze felt so exhausted, having flown non-stop for a night, a day, and another night, her attention divided between staying aloft and redirecting predators sensed in the vicinity of Mimo's presence.  But it's  worth it!  To find him - Mimo - who everyone thought was long dead.  This has been her task since she first began seeing his dreams.  Nightmares, really.  Always nightmares, the poor mite.  Does he ever get a restful night's sleep?

Seeing him now for the first time, she realizes why it took so long to locate him - why only nightmares, the most powerfully frightening dreams, reached her perception, and why it took so many attempts to send him the path to their clan's new home.  He's so young!

It's as she'd been told.  He was still a nest-bound infant when the eruption happened.  How had he survived?  His nightmare memory never showed her what happened after climbing to the top of the massive rock that saved him from the lava flow. He would cling there, whimpering, heartbroken, completely lost, completely alone.

Just the memory of the dream is enough to bring a fresh lump of sympathy to Awze's throat.  No creature should have to endure what he experienced, yet he has relived it countless times through the mercilessly recurring nightmares.  Swallowing hard to force the lump back, she steps closer to the three creatures huddled on the ground beneath the tree.

Three creatures?  Yes, she can just make out a dark face on Mimo's right and a pale face on the left.  They are well hidden beneath his camouflage.  He is so aptly called Mimo, the little mimic.  But where is the last?  Where us the one she saw through Mimo's eyes torn, broken, and bleeding?  Not... Gone?

A rustle in the tree beneath which the three lie huddling together draws Awze's eyes upward.  There he is!  It is a clever tactic to tuck the severely wounded one high out of reach of prowling opportunistic carnivores.  All are accounted for.  All are safe.

For now.

Four sets of eyes regard her with mixed curiosity and caution.  She feels it as palpably as if they were touching her, probing her face, her legs, her wings.  The uncomfortable sensation reminds her to draw back into herself.  She has been extended for so long, reaching out to Mimo, sensing for dangers near him, and pushing them away, it's an effort to gather her perceptions back into her own body, but it's a relief to regain her personal space.

She takes another step toward the group.  He is still maintaining his camouflage.  Why doesn't he drop it and return to his normal color?  What is his normal color? Does he even know? He has lived this long with no connection to his kin. What does he remember besides the nightmare?

Mimo's colors change then to peach, lavender, and bold orange stripes, copying Awze's patterns.  He opens his mouth to speak, "Are- are you-" he stutters.  Suddenly he rises to his feet and approaches her.  "Are you my mother?" he blurts, wonder and fear quavering his voice.

The question is unexpected.  Awze halts.  Others she has found have expressed relief knowing their seclusion has ended.  While they don't know who she is, they do know how to identify their relatives.  Mimo must have been too young when he was lost.  He doesn't remember what his parents looked like.  How will he react when he finds out...?