Dragon's Child
Even Pearl | Sun's Swerver
Even Pearl
A flash of red in my peripheral view tells me he is gone. Finally. And unfortunately…
Of course I knew beforehand he wouldn’t stay. They never do. As eager as they are to come, just as quickly they will leave as the Skies beckon them. They do not appreciate a sedentary nest and they do not desire companionship. Except for once in every seven years. Then the Yearning befalls them and grips them for seven times seven Moons. He was a good partner, caring, loving and protecting. He was strong and young, and the nest he built is the finest I have ever had. I already miss him.
My gaze is drawn once more to the eggs. My most precious possessions. I purr fondly to them, and breath a carefully controlled Firecloud over them to keep them warm.
‘Why do you do that?’
The small voice is inquisitive, as usual, and filled with wonder.
I look up and see its owner standing shyly in the entrance to my nest, afraid to enter my territory without my permission. The dawning sun turns the long coppery hair aflame.
‘Enter, Dwarfling.’ I tell her in the Dragon Tongue, since my vocal cords are not capable of human – or Dwarven – speech.
She doesn’t understand the exact words, but she can guess their meaning by the gentle non-menacing intonation of my purring. Haltering she comes forward, drawn between fear and excitation. A dragon’s tale length away from the eggs, she stops, her warm brown eyes peering intently at the oval-shaped rusty brown shells.
‘Wow! They glow!’ She breathes softly.
Of course, my silly little cub. They need warmth to grow, and Dragon Fire makes the shells glow until the heat is all taken up.
Of course I cannot tell her – she would not understand a single word – but I can show her. Moving very slowly as to not to scare her, I bring my head closer to hers. Her eyes widen and she stumbles two paces back, but then she remains still. She smells like Dwarf, a pleasant odour of earth and rock, mixed with a vague scent of burned wood.
I gently nuzzle her, causing her to stiffen and shiver at the unexpected contact, and push her softly forward, until she stand right next to the eggs. Her eyes dart from the eggs to my head, still frighteningly close I imagine, before she whispers.
‘Can I touch them?’
I slowly nod my head, similar to the way humans do when they agree, a sign she understands and that takes some of her fear away.
She drops to her knees and hesitantly extends a slender hand.
When she finally touches the egg, I chuckle silently about the look of pure wonder and ecstasy plainly written on her expressive face. She must have been afraid to burn her hand, but still she tried. I don’t know if to attribute this to human stupidity or her trust in a dragon, but for now I am content to be there, in my warm nest, with my precious eggs, and some company, even if it’s a human cub.
She is stroking the eggs now, getting more daring but still so gentle and careful I feel unthreatened. She’s even talking to them, I realize amusedly, whispering the same sort of cooing nonsense terms of affection I address them with.
I never knew if she had been the catalyst or if Fate had decided to barge in, but at that moment, one shell cracked.
She immediately withdrew, and I could smell her fear for my retaliation. ‘Don’t worry, Dwarfling.’ I purred soothingly, and again she understood the general idea. We sat both back with a shared excitement as the tiny crack became a larger rift, and that rift became a broken piece of eggshell. A tiny head poked out. A tiny squeak was uttered. “Brrroe, brrrrrrroe…”Tiny wings broke down the remaining intact shell.
I lowered my head and breathed him some welcoming fire. He scrambled to the warmth of my muzzle, basking in the fire.
He was gorgeous, the most beautiful baby dragon I had ever seen. Granted I was biased because he was part mine. Of course every mother wishes for her child to be special, but the coppery coloured patches in his baby brown scales showed he might become a Copper Dragon once he was full-grown. Or at least a very handsome dragon like his father.
A soft rustling behind me made me turn my head.
The Dwarf Cub was silently exiting, understanding a mother’s need to be alone with her newborn.
And until this very day, I still don’t know why I didn’t let her leave.
I purred softly, causing her to halt and turn around.
I flicked my tail to gently push her back to my baby.
Her eyes were sparkling with hidden fire.
Her hand was trembling as she reached out to touch him.
When soft skin met stale scales, a wave of magic was produced so strong it left me dazed.
My small dragon scuttled into her arm, and she stroke him, gently whispering to him, and he cooed back his baby talk.
They hadn’t felt it as much as I had. Barely more then a slight tingling in the air.
But I, Even Pearl of Jonell Mountain, had perceived it clearly.
The Magic had worked.
A bond had been formed.
A destiny had been initiated.
Somewhere outside a dragon’s roar heralded a new day.
Sun's Swerver
My mum can be so overly dramatic at times! Like at the time when I fell down the slope. It was only a tiny cliff, I swear! Or like the time I grazed the mountain when I couldn’t turn fast enough. Honestly, that small avalanche was simply waiting to happen!
My point is she is being ridiculously overanxious. She never treats my brothers or sisters this way! As if they don’t ever get into trouble! I’m getting sick and tired of being chided like a newborn cub! I am a Dragon, by Dawn’s Grace, not a simpering little human!
‘Broebroe?’ The small voice sounds overly nosy, as always.
I can see her through my half-close eyes, entering the small cave I have found, and I wonder how she was able to find me in a place even my own family doesn’t know about. I close my eyes warily.
‘Broebroe?’ She asks again, louder now, thinking I’m asleep.
I hate that name. How in Fire’s name did she ever come up with it? It’s not as if my first words were really as silly as ‘broe broe’, like she explained to me once.
‘Broebroe, you OK?’ A soft caress on my muzzle makes my eyes snap open.
The sudden close proximity of two large, unexpectedly opened, luminescent yellow eyes makes her stumble back. She is only slightly deterred however, and starts petting me again.
I roar indignantly as I thrust my head up, out of her reach. What does the human cub think! I am not her pet! I am a Dragon: proud and free and bound to no one.
She is scared, I can smell it. Yet she stays. And in spite of all the roaring and fire breathing, I will never be able to really harm her.
‘Shhh, little friend…’ she coos.
I abhor that, I am not little! I am larger then you are, cub!
Hey, wait a moment, did she just call me her friend?
I abhor that too! I am a Dragon, I don’t socialize with other inferior species.
Yet I cannot help but muse over the fact if she sees me as a strange pet, or as a friend growing up at the same time as she.
A sudden pain in my neck makes me breathe hostile fire involuntarily.
Apparently, this doesn’t stop her from ministering to my wound, whispering soft nonsense words that spark a vague sense of familiarity.
She gives me a feeling of safety. Her kind but determined hands clean out the wound and apply a soothing cold ointment she retrieves from her bag. My eyes droop closed as I let her sooth me to sleep.
When I wake up, the sun is setting. I feel stiff and sore, but yet remarkably fit again. I hear the winds beckon me, but this time I am hesitant to follow their enticing call. A stab of pain in my neck reminds me of my unplanned encounter with solid and unyielding ground rather too quickly.
I shiver.
Something moves against my side. I look down and see her, snuggled close to my body, partly covered by my tail, which I swiftly withdraw.
The sudden loss of warmth wakes her up. Large sleepy brown eyes peer up into mine.
I shiver again. And it is not because of the evening chill.
She must have read the equal desire and dread in my eyes, and somehow, the little cub understood.
‘You are afraid to fly again, aren’t you.’
I squeak softly, not caring about keeping the pretences of being a strong, most proud Dragon anymore. The winds beckon me, their call so irresistible; I yearn to jump of the cliff to be lifted up by the wings of wind.
But I am afraid the winds will not catch me, as they have failed to do so before.
She puts a warm hand on my muzzle and strokes it gently, looking intently into my eyes. ‘It’s all right to be afraid, my strong friend. But you may never let fear freeze you. You have to overcome it! You must have faith, and then faith will give you the wings to fly!’
She turns and runs to the edge of the cliff.
‘You have my faith, Sun’s Swerver…’
And she jumps.
By Dawn’s Grace, she JUMPED!
My mind goes blank, my legs scramble to the cliff’s edge on their own volition and I dive after her. My claws gently grab her small figure. Wings spread out without my noticing. The winds catch onto wings and carry me up, high into the skies. My body is balanced, my wings are moving - jerkily at first but soon becoming confident strokes.
I am flying.
We are flying.
She squeals with joy.
My heart is lighter then the clouds as we soar to the sun and back.
Not the winds, but her faith had given me the wings to fly.
-
‘I know you little dragons are afraid of flying, just like I once was. But all you need is someone who believes in you to give you wings to confront the world and rise above your problems...
Don’t tell Mum about this story though, she’d have a fit! Speaking of which…’
My mother has entered the nest I’m lying in, talking to her new, anxiously tittering litter.
‘You should be resting!’ She scolds me gently, hiding her anxiety for my wellbeing by being stern.
Mum can be so overly dramatic at times!
‘Sun’s Swerver!’ The voice is no longer so small, and sounds concerned rather then curious.
I raise to my full – impressive - adult height, and walk over to her with an ease betraying my healing injuries. Her ointment has done miracles again. And so has she.
I manage to convince her I am indeed ready to depart, and she swiftly runs of the cliff.
I catch her elegantly on my back in mid air, chuckling.
‘One day we will be too old for this game’, I tell her rumbling.
She laughs, agreeing.
And we leave for the Sun again.
She is my human, and I am proud to be her dragon.