Dragon's Mercy

The sun was shining hot. The wind was cool against her scales as she glided into it head-on. She stretched out her long neck and let out a thunderous roar of joy that seemed to echo across the world. In return, she heard a higher-pitched bugle. Looking up at where her hatchling tottered precariously on the winds they rode, she felt her heart throb in her chest.

It was his first flight. She should’ve brought him out sooner, she knew—he was having trouble staying aloft despite his wings being more than large enough to carry him—but the instinct to keep him in their cave, tucked up high in the mountain and underneath her wing, had been overwhelming. After her first had been taken by sickness, and her second by a sharp, snapping trap hidden on the ground, she was overly cautious. The dragons were dying out, hunted by the new predators on the ground, and as one of the last it was all she could do to keep their race alive. This morning, though, she’d smelled the sun before she even opened her eyes. A fresh breeze had blown into the cave, and she’d known that despite the risks, it was time.

They flew low. She usually preferred to fly higher, where the clouds completely swallowed her up and hid her, where she couldn’t see the dangers on the ground and they couldn’t see her. His wings weren’t quite strong enough to carry him on the thinner air above them, though, so instead, they drifted just above the treetops. His eyes never stopped moving, greedily taking in all the new, exciting sights.

So entranced she was watching him that she didn’t hear the humans on the ground. The sharp pain in her wing was a complete shock. Her body flinched, instinctively curling the hurt wing close to her chest, and that was all the time the two-legged beasts needed to strike again. They loosed another volley of arrows from their bows, and she watched in horror as one whistled past her skull and slid easily through her hatchling’s scales.

He shrieked as he fell, snapping off branches and ricocheting off the sturdy tree trunks. His legs kicked around the shaft protruding from his belly, and his wings fluttered uselessly. His wide eyes locked on hers, so full of fear and pain. He hit the ground with a crunch of crumpling bones, but he didn’t stop screaming.

There was nothing she could do. Even as she angled herself to follow him down, she saw the monsters raising their bows again, taking aim at her. She released a short blast of fire from deep within her gut to drive them back, and while they scrambled for cover, she veered away with an anguished wail. The lingering warmth in her throat faded, leaving her numb as she rose into the frigid air above the clouds. Below her, he still cried and cried, for help—for her.

She shook her head to clear the memories. The phantom twinge in her wing eased, and her vision unclouded, but she still heard cries echoing in the wind. Instead of fading, they grew louder, shriller, piercing even over the sounds of the sky. It couldn’t be her child, she knew, but something needed help. Pulling her wings close to herself, she sank down toward the miles and miles of pristine tundra stretched out beneath her.

Snow piles shifted and rippled under the buffets of her wings. Her claws dug into the stark white ground and the frozen soil below. She could hardly see anything with the snow blowing in the breeze, but still she scanned for signs of movement. This deep into a harsh winter, though, life of any kind was scarce. She was ready to dismiss it as her grieving mind haunting her and continue on to the mountains, where she planned to make her new home, but at last she saw something—a flash of brown in the distance, growing unsteadily closer.

At first, she thought it was some kind of wounded animal. Almost every inch of it was covered in ice-crusted fur that had kept it hidden from her eyes. It stumbled along in an odd, lurching way, and her tongue flicked out to taste the air at the thought of such an easy meal.

As she approached, the thing raised its eyes to look at her, and the fur slipped to reveal dangerously bare skin underneath. When she looked closer, she realized it was a human, wrapped in the skins of long-dead prey. Its fat cheeks were pink and splotchy and smeared with wet streaks that had already begun to ice over. Its mouth stretched wide as it bawled impossibly louder, barely even pausing for breath. It tried to back away from her, but its legs tangled beneath it, and it fell onto its back.

Flaring her wings just enough to lift her onto her back legs, she stretched her neck as high as she could and searched in every direction. She didn’t see any signs of other humans or their settlements anywhere across the mostly-flat landscape. She landed heavily, and when she looked back down, she couldn’t help but pity the poor creature that was still struggling to find its feet again. It was small. It was fragile. It couldn’t yet carry or use any of the weapons its kin used for protection. She’d only ever seen the humans travelling in packs, and here was one of their young, out alone in the frozen wilderness where it would surely freeze to death before any of its own kind ever found it.

If only she could take the child into the mountains with her, she would show it the care that its own parents hadn’t, but she had no way to get it there. Her serrated claws were made to slice through skin much thicker and would cut it in half if she dared to try and pick it up. It was not old enough or strong enough to climb onto her back and hold on. Even if she could get it to the mountains, it would not survive long, not without protective scales or wings or a warmth that came from the inside.

And she could not stay here. She felt vulnerable out in the open, where at any time, a horde of humans could come marching over the horizon and spot her. Once they spotted her, they would never leave her in peace. She itched for the safety of the sky.

With no other options, she offered the child the only mercy she could—a final warm embrace, and a quick end. A mercy her own child had no doubt not been given, she thought bitterly as she snapped her jaws shut against the torrent of flames spewing from them.

The world was blissfully quiet at last. A large patch of snow had melted away, and all that remained of the youngling was a smoldering heap of rags and blistered skin. Thin tendrils of dark smoke slithered up toward the clouds, and she watched them rise.

Someone would see them, and they would come looking. She bowed her head, allowing herself a brief moment to grieve for this lost child and her own before she fled. Every flap of her wings was heavy under the weight of what she’d done. In just moments, the corpse was out of sight, but the image had already burrowed into her mind like a parasite.

The mountains were in sight, a promised haven within her reach, when she spotted them. From this height, they were like ants crawling in a mindless line, but she knew she’d found the humans.

They weren’t even going in the right direction. When she looked back, she could still see the smoke rising, writhing like a black flag in the wind, so they should’ve seen it too. But they were walking away from it without hesitation, without remorse. She wondered if they hadn’t realized the child was missing, or if they simply didn’t care enough to go back.

With one last wistful glance at the mountains, she circled around and dove toward them. She ate up the distance quickly.

By the time they saw her coming, it was too late. There was no cover, so they scrambled for their weapons, but she was upon them before they could arm themselves. She ripped and clawed and burned her way through half of the group. They screamed and tried to run, but the thick blanket of red-stained snow on the ground slowed them down, and she caught them easily. One man didn’t bother to try. He raised his empty, clenched fists toward her, as if they were anything close to a match for her fury. When he lashed out, she grabbed his arm in her jaws and shook her head, flinging him up into the air. He came crashing down on a cluster of his companions, and she set them all alight with a lightning-quick burst of fire.

She wondered if they knew why, if, in their last moments, they even considered that there might be reasons behind her attack beyond senseless violence. Somehow, she didn’t think so. Humans killed just to prove that they could—she’d seen the sharp teeth and claws hanging like trophies around their necks, the corpses they left with the meat and hides fully intact—and they likely thought all the predators in the world were all the same. She wished she spoke their language, so she could tell them exactly why they had to die.

Something bit into her chest, deep enough that she paused. The remaining humans had found their weapons, and they were taking their last stand. She bared her dripping teeth as they surrounded her, brandishing their bows and spears. Despite their fear, they were thirsty for revenge.

Maybe they would have it—she couldn’t kill them all before they struck, and she was already wounded—but she would have hers first. For the lives they’d taken and destroyed, for her children and for theirs, she’d take every single one of them down with her.

She planted her feet and roared out her challenge, shaking the ground beneath them. And then she pounced.