Being

The lambkin tumbled towards the stream with all the awkwardness afforded to youth. The midmorning sun cosseted the child's thick head of curls and outlined its chubby flesh in drowsy gold. The shadow of the pine forest did not seem to infringe upon the child's delight in the flashing turquoise stream and it tottered quickly toward it. Unaware of the child, a heron stood poised in the shallows and jerked its beak towards the flash of minnows. Three times the bird claimed a prize from the water, and three times the child giggled, reveling in the play of water and the smooth movements of the heron. Neither party noticed the beast in the shadows.

Pungent with the odor of wounds half a decade old and never healed, the dragon hardly noticed the sting of the branches as they snagged his crippled wings, occupied as he was with his fortune in finding easy prey. He cocked his head, looked through his functional eye, and gaged the distance between himself and the child. In times past his breath would have rendered this exercise pointless. Even now he felt the urge to vomit flame, but the ugly whistle of the fleshy scar at the base of his throat was reminder enough. He was no longer a dragon. This realization used to pain him into such a depression that he would abandon food entirely for months at a time. Recently, he no longer had the luxury of choice when it came to hunting. His hollow stomach provided the impetus to continue today.

The child had finally tired of watching the heron and was now in pursuit of a grey cat. The presence of the cat disturbed the dragon. Cats kept close to human settlements. The dragon had hoped this child was part of a nomadic group, but the graceful grey creature suggested otherwise. Best to get this done quickly, the dragon decided.

Hunting the young of sentient species was a low means of living, this the dragon knew. But if he was not the last, he was nearly the last of his kind. Therefore he felt inertia towards the maintenance of his existence. There was in him a desperate need to be. It was why he endured the constant insult of his wounds and fed his starving body whatever it would accept. There was also, perhaps, the acidic bite of revenge in his choice of prey today.

Meowing softly, the cat twisted itself around the child, brushing its whiskers against the chubby stumps of the toddler's legs. Enthralled, the child rudely patted the cat's head and watched the feline through absurd lavender eyes. The pair continued down the stream at a leisurely pace. Now. The dragon decided. Do it now. He tensed his legs against the back of a boulder for extra momentum, his claws open in preparation. With a deep breath, he lunged for the child.

His body had barely left the mud of the forest floor when he felt a dozen points plunge into his side as a great weight knocked him deeper into the gloom of the forest. He landed bewildered and in no small amount of pain. Thrashing and hissing, he rose with fury to greet whatever challenger had dared interrupt him. The stub of his tail thumped a warning and he twisted his sleek neck from side to side, trying to identify his foe. In the background, he heard the child wailing.

From the shadows, a great black stag silently emerged. His stately rack of antlers dripped thick with the dragon's blood. A few bright blue scales drifted from the luminescent tines and fell towards the blanket of pine needles. Panting with confusion, the dragon whined and stumbled forward. The stag lowered his head and stamped a hoof urgently. Intelligence radiated from the stag's lavender eyes. Behind the stag, an equally large black doe emerged. Her coat dappled with a sea of stars, her sapphire eyes wise. Unconcerned with the dragon, she turned instead towards the child.

While the stag kept his rack of antlers aimed at the dragon, the doe disappeared behind a large boulder by the stream. What emerged on the boulder's other side was a tall woman with a stream of thick black hair trailing after her. The women lashed an icy gaze at the dragon and frowned sternly. Her body rigid with threat. She walked towards the child, knelt, then gently touched its forehead. As if waking from a dream, the child blinked, ceased sobbing, and buried its head in her dress with a cry of joy. Now crying herself, the woman kissed the tears from the child's face and the two locked into a deep embrace. Purring, the grey cat nosed its way into the embrace as well. It had been long decades since the dragon had known a scene of tenderness such as this.

Mind cleared by pain, the dragon looked upon the child anew. A fawn's pelt was draped about the child's waist. Under the child's base scent of human flesh were deeper notes of moss, petrichor, and sweet spring water. A sea of stars shone from the child's lavender eyes, and their thick black curls radiated more than sunlight. The veneer of humanity was only just thick enough to be convincing.

Sensing the shift in the dragon's attention, the stag eased his antlers away and gazed intently at the meager being bleeding on the forest floor. For the first time in nearly a century, the dragon felt shame. And something very like regret. He curled himself upon a boulder as submissively as he could and began to lick the fresh wounds on his hide. Snorting with satisfaction, the stag walked off toward the woman and child.

Shouting in delight, the child ran towards the great beast and hugged a massive leg tightly. A warm smile spread across the woman's face as the stag lowered his head to nuzzle the child. The three figures remained blended together in comfort for a long moment. A bubble of laughter echoed from far down the stream and a drone of human voices began to gather in the distance. The grey cat meowed urgently and pawed at the great stag, who slowly lifted his head to gaze at the woman with heavy eyes. Trembling, the woman took the toddler by its shoulders, whispered something in its ear, and then touched it again upon its brow. Her figure shifted hazily as if blurred by rain. Within the span of a breath, the great black doe stood where once the woman had.

As though nothing of consequence had occurred, the child turned away from the pair and giggled once more towards the flash of fish in the stream. Pouncing and batting carefully at the child's feet, the grey cat urged the child onward, down toward the lull of human voices. Forgotten, the pair of deer sighed with all the weight of the world and watched mournfully as the figure of the child with a fawn's pelt about its waist melted away into the distance.

The dragon watched too. Watched until the speck of the child was met with the surprised cry of a dozen human voices.

Perhaps. The dragon thought. Perhaps there are many ways for us to be.