Creosote's Wolf

The dragon Creosote let loose a smoky half-yawn, half-burp. She had a belly full of sheep and she was feeling heavy and lazy. Too heavy and lazy to fly, so she decided to walk back to her den. Or waddle. Slowly. She never hurried; dragons always had time.

It was evening, the space between sunset and moon rise and it was getting chilly. As the light faded, her pitch-black skin shimmered with reflected fire. Behind her was a house in flames, a few humans excitedly running around the burning structure.

Humans. Like all mortals, they could be such an irritation. She had wanted to eat the sheep in peace, but as was so often the case, humans tried to get between her and her meal. Not that they could do much against an invulnerable dragon. But who wanted gnats buzzing about at dinner time?

She wanted to eat sheep, not humans, so a belch of flame on their house had distracted the humans enough to let her eat in peace.

She released another sooty, satisfied belch, and started a slow stroll across the former sheep field when she caught the scent of, what, a human?

She raised her long, black neck and scanned the field. No humans. She sniffed carefully. The scent appeared to originate at the far edge of the field. She looked intently. Nothing. But it did smell of human. In a way.

Humans were no concern to her, so she walked across the field toward the smell since it was between her and her destination. To the east a full moon was starting to edge over the horizon, blood red in the smoke from the burning house.

The scent of the human became more pronounced as she continued her walk, and as she reached the edge of the field she almost stepped on it.

A small human, naked and asleep, lying in the grass.

She looked at it and considered. An after dinner nibble? She did not think so. If she had so much as a wafer of meat, she felt she might explode. And she did not like to eat humans.

Sheep, deer, bear, cow? All delicious. Their fear as she approached made the meat all the more tender and delicious. A terrified animal was a tasty animal.

Humans? Like other sentient mortals, their flesh acquired the taste of their spirit and humans were usually too bitter to eat. Sometimes sickly sweet, but never delectable. Dwarves were too sour, goblins too rancid, and elves too flavorless to bother eating. Meals were meant to be a pleasure, and she would only consume a sentient if there were no other, tastier, alternatives.

Still, she had never tried a human child. Maybe the young did not have time to acquire the humans harsh aftertaste. Carefully sniffing, she could not detect the characteristic human bitterness. Was there room in her belly? She eyed the child. Maybe.

She moved her head closer to the child. The smell was off somehow. Not entirely human. Not bitter. There was a background of an unusual umami, some scent that was known to her but what?

She flicked out her tongue for a better sample and, to her surprise, when she licked across the human, it changed into a wolf.

She drew her head back in surprise and looked down at the wolf pup. It remained asleep. Wolf. Of course. It was a wolf scent she had noticed, faint, when mixed in with the human smell. It had been ages since she at eaten a wolf. Wolves were smart, avoiding dragons. She remembered the taste fondly, tart and meaty. She ran her tongue over the pup. Now it was wolf with a faint background of human.

A changeling. Creosote had heard of such beings from other dragons when comparing foods, but she had never had the opportunity to eat one before. As she watched the pup, it changed back to a sleeping human, going from delicious to distasteful.

Dragons were a race apart. Invulnerable and probably immortal, they had little interactions with the other creatures on the world, who existed, as far as dragons were concerned, for consumption. Humans, elves, orcs, unicorns, and all the assorted creatures that made up existence were there to be a dragon dinner. Otherwise they were of little interest. Dragons ate, slept, sunned and occasionally reproduced. Dragons were in the world, but not of the world. Dragons abide.

As she looked at the changeling, she felt something different. Not hungry but... curious? Curious? About a mortal? She shook her head. Why be curious about anything, much less an amuse bouche? It was a snack, nothing more.

She licked the sleeping changeling and again it changed into a wolf cub that reverted to human after a few moments.

She watched the creature for several minutes, not thinking, oddly hesitant to eat this changeling for reasons beyond a full belly. Why? She could not say and it annoyed her.

Finally, she made up her mind. She licked the creature and, when it changed into a wolf, picked it up in her jaws and returned with it to her den. It slept the whole way. On the slow walk back, Creosote had only one thought.

"Now what?"

------------------------

Time for an immortal was meaningless. Creosote had noted how the environment around her changed from season to season and from year to year. Mountains rose and fell. Oceans and lakes filed and emptied. Cities came and went. Creosote paid little attention. It did not affect her. She ate, she slept, she lay in the sun. What more was there?

The changeling was different. As she observed it with an unusual interest, it changed with astounding rapidity. Creosote remained curious as to what it would become and curious as to what it was about the creature that she found so compelling.

In the beginning, the changeling grew daily. It would change into a wolf to eat the meat she brought and then change back to human. Initially it moved about on all fours, then graduated to two legs.

Once it could walk, it started to leave the den for hours, then days. Creosote didn't worry. Much. But there was something about the changeling that never left her mind. An awareness of the changeling was always present in Creosote's consciousness, and she was always oddly glad when it returned.

Why? She did not understand her response to the creature. It was not food or sleep or sun but there was the need to know what the changeling did and to protect it. Eventually she simply accepted that the changeling had some sort of hold on her. Some day she would discover the why of it or the changeling would die and that would be the end of it.

The changeling always returned from its trips and that was enough. With each trip the changeling acquired things: clothes, shoes, a bow and arrows, and a sword. Creosote had warned it never to change into a wolf in public or let other know she was a changeling, and it had obliged. After one trip, Creosote the changeling let her know that it was a she.

Creosote could understand some human speech. 'Dragon', 'Help', 'Oh God', 'Fire’, and 'Arrggh’, were a few of the words and phrases she had picked up while eating their livestock. Every time the changeling returned she was more fluent in human speech and Creosote expanded her understanding of human speech and culture. What Creosote did not understand is why she bothered. Why did a dragon care what humans said or did?

In human form, the changeling could not understand dragon, but as a wolf she could comprehend the rumblings and hisses dragons used to communicate. Creosote could understand human, but not wolf tongue. To an outsider, it made their conversations a spectacle, with a dragon talking to a creature who rapidly switched back and forth from human and wolf to talk or listen.

When the changeling was younger, one day she had asked, "Mother, do I have a name?"

Creosote had considered. Mother? Why did the changeling call her mother? It was not a hatchling. She did not inquire of the changeling why she used the word. She did not know the origin of her own name. She had always been Creosote.

"I do not know your name," Creosote said. "Do you need one?"

"I do. I would like you to give it to me."

Creosote considered the request.

"Lupine," said Creosote. "You should be called Lupine. In human speech it is both a wolf and a flower. Your true will be self hiding in plain sight."

The choice made Creosote feel... clever? Funny? Those were not dragon characteristics anymore than caring for a mortal. What was happening to her?

Lupine had nodded in agreement and smiled. "Perfect," she had said. "I am Lupine."

Lupine always told Creosote of her travels. At first the explorations were for food other than raw meat, which she would only eat in wolf form. But Lupine was curious about her human side and human culture. She went to school, learned to read and write, to fight, to shoot a bow and use a sword. She had jobs. She met other humans and other races.

Through it all, Creosote remain curious. She did not understand her interest in this mortal, who should have been a light snack. But she learned more about human culture and the cultures of other races. Creosote discovered there was a world beyond that of dragons and it was more than a world of potential meals.

One day Lupine returned after... was it a long absence? It was difficult to attend to the passage of time when time had no meaning. For Creosote no time had passed. As she thought back, the snows had come and gone at least three times since she last saw Lupine. So for a mortal it had been a long time.

Lupine had changed. She was, what, 22 years old? She had filled out, but looked harder, more muscle. She would probably taste bitter now. She had long hair, wore dented and used armor and carried a sword, a shield, a knife, and a bow and arrows. She looked determined.

Curious, thought Creosote.

"Mother," said Lupine. "It is good to see you. I have missed you. I have learned much in the three years since I left. I now know why I was abandoned in that field. I desire revenge and a return of what is rightfully mine. I need to kill a wizard, swindle a dwarf, rob an elf, defeat an army, and take a throne. I ask your help, since I cannot do it without you."

Creosote looked at Lupine for a few moments. Why would she be involved with the cares of a mortal? It is not what dragons did. It was not a dragon’s purpose. What did dragons do? They lived. And ate. And slept. But why?

As Lupine changed to a wolf to understand the reply, the armor changed to fit her. Enchanted armor. That too was curious. Creosote did not understand her own undragon-like response.

"What can I do to help?"