Hatchling

Andreth alighted heavily from the sky to the forest floor. The sheer weight of his hulking mass felled several thick trees upon landing, producing booming snaps of wood that scared off every animal within a mile.

Most of them, anyway. While the birds went up into the air and the rabbits went down into their holes, the half-dozen wolves near Andreth remained still. They eyed him, snarling and gnashing their teeth, but their growled threats meant nothing. Six half-starved wolves couldn't frighten him away, and with a powerful lashing of his tail against the undergrowth, he let them know it.

Most of the wolves backed away. One did not. Andreth snapped at the air in front of it—clack, clack, clack. Staring into teeth as long as its own tail, the last wolf surrendered, flattening its ears in submission and sulking away with the rest of its pack.

There was only one reason six wolves would stand up to a dragon that could swallow each of them whole, and Andreth quickly found it. On the ground nearby, a human infant lay. It was female, with wisps of yellow hair and fair skin that would be beautiful—if it weren't entirely drenched in blood.

The human was dead for certain. Puncture wounds dotted her naked body from where the wolves had dug in their teeth.

So young, Andreth thought. No older than a hatchling. When he had caught the scent of human blood while flying, he landed to investigate, intending to help if there had been danger. But he was obviously too late. There was nothing he could do. Stepping a few paces away, he crouched low, raising his wings to prepare for flight.

Unless...

Andreth drew his wings together again and peered back at the human. There was always one option, of course, though it would violate the most sacred of draconic laws. Could he face the consequences of such a decision?

He returned to the human. Staring at her for a long time, he toiled between loyalty to dragonkind and his own nature. Others of his brood had always criticized his esteem and sympathy for humankind. Despite the perpetually tremulous relations between their two species, he had always respected human ingenuity and resourcefulness, feeling a fondness for the little creatures who stood so proudly on two legs.

I cannot allow personal feelings sway me, he decided. He began to turn away, firm in this conviction, and that's when he spotted something about the human he had missed before.

He examined her closer. In the center of her forehead, almost obscured by all the blood, the human possessed some sort of mark discoloring the skin. Andreth believed it was what humans called a birthmark. Vaguely diamond-shaped and dark blue, it resembled almost exactly the cluster of scales on Andreth's own forehead. While most of his body was a lighter azure, he had his own diamond-shaped patch of darker scales just above his eyes. You're just like me, he thought.

The decision was made.

Acting before second thoughts could restrain him, Andreth reached a single claw toward the human and carefully forced her jaw open before leaning his head over hers and releasing a thin string of saliva into her mouth.

It was thin for Andreth, anyway, not for a human hatchling barely larger than his eyeball. The sticky, gelatinous drool filled the entire cavity of her mouth and spilled over down her cheek. Slowly, it began to drain, the soupy mixture now creeping down her throat. Andreth closed her mouth and waited.

Minutes passed without any change, but just as Andreth considered trying again, the human was abruptly hurled back into life. She revived in a fit of violent coughing interspersed with confused screams, but when the episode passed and she opened her eyes to see Andreth staring down at her, her panic ceased at once. She studied him for a few seconds, then giggled and reached out with a tiny hand. He leaned closer to let her touch his snout, and when she did so, she erupted into joyous laughter.

She was still covered in blood and dozens of puncture wounds, but that display of innocent delight made her a treasure to behold, and Andreth knew he had done the right thing.

***

Andreth knew he could not conceal what he had done for long, nor did he wish to hide from the consequences of his decision. And so, when he returned to the mountains with the human hatchling, he openly confessed that he had committed the most grievous sin known to dragonkind. In response, Broodmother Ryza called an emergency gathering of the high dragons to decide Andreth's fate.

He stood now atop a flat expanse of rock at the peak of the tallest mountain in the range. Accessible only by flight, the Dragon's Roost was a sacred place to their kind, where the most consequential decisions were made.

And the most severe punishments were given.

The hatchling sat on the stone next to Andreth. Cleaned of blood, only the toothy scars dotting her skin told the story of her brief meeting with death. She seemed happy and carefree, ignorant of what had happened to her. She giggled at the sight of all the surrounding dragons.

Andreth wished he shared the hatchling's cheerfulness, but it was impossible when facing the dragon who stood before him now. Broodmother Ryza positively loomed, taller even than Andreth and twice as imposing, with grey scales and black eyes. She was folding her wings into various asymmetrical shapes, one after another. Each configuration represented a word, and together they formed dragonsign, a voiceless language their kind had spoken for millennia. It was just one more thing Andreth respected about humans: their advanced capabilities of speech that dragons did not possess.

Your fondness for humankind has stretched too far this time, Andreth, Broodmother Ryza signed. Years ago, I considered your fascination with them to be a mere eccentricity, for that is all it seemed at the time. But I thought it ultimately harmless, and allowed an old dragon his quirks. If I had known your eccentricities would eventually lead to the bestowal of the Dragon's Gift upon one of them, I would have intervened long ago.

Andreth bristled at these words. He would accept the punishment for his crime, but he would not do so with his tail hung low in shame. He signed back at her with quick, decisive strokes of his wings. Why call it the Dragon's Gift if it is never to be gifted to others?

Broodmother Ryza did not balk nor take offense at his defiance. Do not be foolish, Andreth. Either the humans would enslave us to maintain control of our Gift, or they would see us all dead when they discovered the price that must be paid for receiving it.

Andreth raised his wings to argue further, but then lowered them without a single word. He knew she was right. It was this very price Broodmother Ryza mentioned that had necessitated bringing the hatchling back to the mountains instead of returning her to human civilization. If the sole effect of the Gift were revival of the body, no one need know that it was Andreth's intervention that had saved her, and she could live out the rest of her days amongst her kind in ignorance of what had happened. But things were not so simple.

At least you brought it back to us, Broodmother Ryza continued, and did not leave it for the humans to discover. Were you seen bestowing the Gift?

No, Andreth signed. He formed the word slowly, defeated.

Then we may salvage this situation yet. The child must be executed.

No! Andreth signed again, this time with a stroke of his wings so violent it whipped the air around him, blowing the hatchling onto her back. She laughed even louder, entirely unaware of the black business being discussed around her.

Broodmother Ryza's wingstrokes were as calm as ever when she replied. We cannot risk the humans seeing it.

Then banish me, Andreth pleaded. Allow me to take the hatchling and leave, far from human civilization, where no one may see her. Only let her live.

Hatchling? It is a human, not a... Broodmother Ryza made no signs for a long time, until, Is this about your infertility, Andreth? Do you intend for this to make up for the past? You know I do not blame you for that.

Andreth ignored the pain of sudden memories. And I do not blame you for choosing a dragon who could give you a clutch. This is not about us, Ryza. This human, this hatchling, was too young to die. Too young to even grasp how unfair it was for her life to be stolen. I wanted to give her a chance.

Broodmother Ryza's wings remained motionless for a long time. Finally, they spread out horizontally, as flat and as far as they could. The sign meant refusal.

In response, the other dragons in attendance, those at Broodmother Ryza's flanks, stepped forward, eyes on the hatchling. Andreth acted at once, protectively covering her with his hand and raising his wings as high as they could go. Making himself as large as possible, the pose conveyed a clear message: I am prepared to fight.

Broodmother Ryza quickly lashed her tail against the stone, ordering a halt to the other dragons. They obeyed, then watched her, awaiting orders.

You are willing to fight, to kill, to die for this human? she signed.

Andreth stood tall when he replied, I am.

Broodmother Ryza stared motionlessly for a long time before delivering her final judgment. Very well. Andreth, you are hereby exiled from this brood. Take the creature and leave, as far from human eyes as your wings may carry you. Immediately.

Now? Andreth asked.

Now. We are too close to human civilization. We must ensure they do not see the child.

But, Andreth protested, there is still time until she shows signs of—

Broodmother Ryza interrupted his signs with her own when she said, You are wrong. Gaze upon the child yourself, and see what your actions have wrought.

Andreth obeyed. He craned his head close to the hatchling and saw that Broodmother Ryza was right. He didn't think it would happen so soon.

On the child's left forearm, the faintest hint of azure scale was beginning to grow over the skin, the same color as Andreth's own.

***

Andreth gulped huge swallows of river water, barrelfuls at a time, from the lazily flowing Pulcino. Just upriver, Hatchling did the same, though in far lesser quantities.

He lifted his head to watch her. His dragontouched human fosterling had dunked her head so deep and so forcefully into the water that most of her upper body was now wet. The sun's rays glittered off the damp scales that covered her back, arms, neck, wings, and tail. Looking at her like this—on hands and knees, and with head submerged—she looked more dragon than human, but she gave the opposite impression when she finished drinking and stood up on two legs. Her fluffy blonde hair had been flattened with river water, but it was unmistakably human, and the only changes the Gift had made to her face were her eyes and teeth. Her circular pupils had given way to the reptilian slits of dragon eyes, and when her flat human teeth had fallen out years ago, pointed fangs had grown to take their place.

She flapped her wings vigorously to shake the water off, then signed with them. Oh, I needed that! We had been flying far too long without a rest.

I thought you might enjoy it, Andreth replied. I always found the waters of this river to be most refreshing.

When was the last time you were here?

Andreth debated how much to tell her. For nearly a decade and a half he had been exiled from these lands, all due to the existence of Hatchling herself. Revealing too much might put a crack in the carefully constructed tower of lies he had built to protect her. Not since you hatched, he signed slowly, hoping not to arouse her curiosity.

Hatchling's wings fluttered in surprise. I was born around here? she asked, curiosity plainly aroused. Does that mean the witch who cursed me may be nearby? She looked around warily, claws spread.

Not likely, Andreth signed. It has been many years since that day. But we must remain wary. We shall walk the remainder of the forest, using the trees to conceal our passage. We mustn't be seen.

Very well. Hatchling ran off ahead, then scaled a tree and began gliding from branch to branch, heading northward.

Andreth followed her. His massive body required clever maneuvering through the densely packed pine trees, but it was preferable to flying, to being seen by human or dragon. Once they left the forest, however, they would be cleared of the area from which he had been exiled, and they could return to the wing.

The sun was still high in the sky when they reached a small clearing, devoid of trees. Hatchling, forced to the ground, walked backwards in front of Andreth, staving off youthful boredom with endless conversation. Tell me more about where we're going, she signed.

It is called Harvestfall, the most colorful land of all. This time of year, the leaves on the trees are colored in every shade of the sunset—yellows and oranges and reds in every direction. After a while, the trees release their leaves to the earth, and they pile up so thickly that even I could hide completely inside them.

Impossible! Hatchling signed, laughing.

Not so! The trees are several times taller and thicker than any you see in this forest, and they bear many leaves. You will see. It is a wondrous sight.

If that's so, why haven't you taken me to see it sooner?

Andreth couldn't tell her about his exile, so he added another stone onto his tower of lies. It is custom for no dragon to witness Harvestfall's splendor until her fifteenth year. Or rather, he had only now mustered enough courage to steal through forbidden lands.

Hatchling's wings drooped before she signed, I don't think that custom matters in my case. I'm not truly a dragon anymore.

Hatchling, stop.

Hatchling stopped.

Andreth signed with firm strokes. No witch's curse can make you anything less than what you really are: my offspring and a true dragon. If ever you should doubt that, only remember your hatchmark.

Hatchling touched the diamond-shaped splotch of discolored skin on her forehead, the one that resembled Andreth's own scales in the same spot.

The witch's curse may have stolen the scales from your face, but that mark has remained, and it was passed down from me. It is your reminder of where you come from. You are a dragon—never forget that.

Hatchling gave the dragonsign equivalent of a nod: a quick up-and-down with her right wingtip. But she didn't seem truly comforted. Why was I cursed? she signed abruptly.

The question surprised Andreth. She had never asked that before, and he had never prepared an answer for it beforehand. When he didn't immediately respond, Hatchling kept signing, faster and faster as emotion seized her.

What actually happened that day? And what about my clutchmates? Were they cursed too? Where are they now? Why have you always insisted we avoid all humans? Surely not all of them can be bad. And why must we avoid dragons as well? Aren't they our kind?

The torrent of questions froze Andreth. He couldn't manage even a single sign in response. But her final, most torturous question was still to come.

Was it truly a human who cursed me?

Andreth stared at her for a long time. A strong breeze passed through the clearing, and with it, came... something.

A dragon, Andreth signed.

A dragon? Hatchling's eyes grew wide. Do you mean—

No, he interrupted her. I smell dragon in the wind. Someone is coming. And if Andreth's nose wasn’t mistaken, he knew exactly who it was.

Broodmother Ryza alighted only a moment later, shaking the ground with the force of her landing. Hatchling hid behind Andreth's hind leg.

Ryza, he signed.

Andreth. You've returned.

I do not wish for trouble. I'm only passing through.

Ryza took a huge sniff of the air. And you're not alone. The child is with you.

This was dangerous. If Hatchling watched Ryza sign something incriminating, his tower of lies could crumble to dust in an instant. He shifted his body to face her. She was staring at Ryza with undisguised interest.

Hatchling, Andreth signed. Leave us. Go into the forest, but do not stray far.

After a moment’s hesitation, Hatchling obeyed. Her eyes never left Ryza as she disappeared into the trees.

***

Another dragon! Hatchling couldn't believe it. She hadn't been able to see much of their conversation, but she got the feeling Andreth and the newcomer knew each other. But from where, and when? There was so much she didn't know about her sire. Why must he be so secretive? Especially with his own offspring.

She wondered what those two were talking about, and why Andreth had sent her away. Had it something to do with her? Standing around thinking about it only made her anxious, so she decided to do some hunting to occupy her mind. She hadn't eaten all day anyway. Clawing her way up a tree and onto a thick branch, she crouched down, closed her eyes, and focused.

The scents of the forest came to her. Flowers and moss. Damp earth and pine needles. Lots and lots of insects. Her nose wasn't as sharp as Andreth's, but she could still identify specific scents at great distances.

Including the whiff of deer that just blew by.

Hatchling faced the direction it came from and leapt into the air to glide to another branch. Years of practice had given her the ability to travel almost soundlessly among the trees, and soon, she found her quarry: a whitetail buck grazing on a cluster of thick mushrooms.

It was well-fed, and would make for good eating. Hatchling swooped down from her perch almost directly on top of it. She opened a huge, bleeding gash in its neck with a swipe of her claws and shattered its leg with a powerful whipping of her tail. It fell over at once, writhing in desperate panic. But its struggles were useless. Dazed, crippled, and mauled, the buck soon bled out.

Hatchling knelt to feed on the creature. Her pointed teeth dug into its flank, carving out a thick chunk of warm, tender meat before swallowing it whole. Coated in blood, it slid down easily. She went in for another bite, and another one after that.

Snap.

The crunching of twigs nearby drew her eyes up. Instinctively, she growled and raised her wings high, declaring that this was her kill and she was prepared to fight for it. But the snarl died in her throat when she saw what had made the sound.

A human.

By his nocked longbow, he was a hunter. By his wide eyes and shaking hands, he was terrified.

Andreth's warnings rushed to her mind. Never let the humans see you. Your body's curse would frighten them. Hatchling realized what the human must be seeing: her, crouched over a mutilated buck, blood-spattered from wingtip to tail and baring her fangs at him like a feral beast.

She stood and took a step toward him. Do not fear, she signed. I'll not hurt you.

But dragonsign was foreign to humans. The hunter comprehended nothing, seeing only a sharp-toothed, bloodied monster approaching him. He turned about and fled into the trees.

Hatchling knew it was useless to follow him. He couldn't understand her, and chasing the poor man down would only frighten him further. Dejected, she began wandering back toward the clearing, where Andreth and the other dragon were hopefully finished speaking. She left the buck where it lay, her appetite spoiled.

Andreth was waiting for her when she returned. The other dragon, the big gray one, looked just about to leave, but hesitated when Hatchling emerged from the trees, watching her approach.

It is good you have fed, Andreth signed, noting the blood. We must continue until nightfall.

The other dragon signed to Andreth now. Remember what I said, Andreth. I will ignore your transgression this once, but I will not do so again. Never return to this land.

I understand, Andreth returned.

You do not, Andreth. Not fully. Tensions have become even more strained in your absence. It is more important than ever to never let the humans see her.

And with that cryptic warning, the mysterious gray dragon lifted off.

Never let the humans see me, Hatchling thought, remembering the hunter who had done just that.

Dread began to well in her chest.

***

Hatchling awoke to the light of the full moon high overhead.

As Andreth's size prevented him from lying down inside the densely packed forest, they had been forced to emerge from the trees when night fell, finding a narrow expanse of bare rocky ground at the base of a tall crag. It was cramped—they were squeezed between the crag to the west and the edge of the forest to the east—but it provided just barely enough space for Andreth to sprawl out for a night of rest.

Hatchling lay in her customary spot, nestled in a hollow where Andreth's wing met his shoulder. Beneath her, the big dragon was breathing deeply and steadily, fast asleep.

She hadn't woken on her own. She had heard something. Feeling uneasy, she stood and leapt off of Andreth, silently gliding to the ground. She took a few steps toward the trees and peered inside. The full moon and her sharp dragon's eyes allowed her to pierce the darkness with ease, but she saw nothing within, and the only sound now was Andreth's rhythmic breathing. The scanty breeze, however, carried a scent to her nose, and a familiar one at that.

Hatchling's wings fidgeted, her anxiety rising. She turned around to wake Andreth.

And that's when it happened. High above, a massive boulder tipped over the edge of the crag, tumbling to the earth among a shower of smaller rocks and dirt. Hatchling let out a cry as it smashed against the side of Andreth's head. He awoke with a deafening roar of pain and confusion. One of his eyes had been completely crushed, and blood streamed from his mouth and nostrils.

Shouting came from above. At the top of the crag, a dozen or so humans had appeared, all armed with bows. They took aim—some at Andreth, others at her. When Andreth saw this, he quickly signed a single word—come—before raising his wings to form a protective covering.

Hatchling broke into a dash as arrows began to fall. One of them nearly struck her, whistling as it soared past her head.

When she made it to the safety of his wings, Andreth looked at her. Beneath all the gore, she saw sadness on his face. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but with his wings occupied, he could not.

Then the moment passed, and Andreth drove his shoulder into the rocky wall of the crag with the full extent of his strength. It shook the stone like an earthquake, causing the archers up top to stumble. One of them fell off the crag entirely. The man landed hard right next to Hatchling, the snapping of his bones announcing his immediate death. She recognized him as the hunter she had encountered in the forest earlier in the day.

This is my fault, she thought. Andreth was right about everything.

Andreth stood on his hind legs, becoming level with the top of the crag. There, he could swipe at the disoriented archers with his claws. Hatchling heard the sound of pained screams, but also something else.

Battle cries. These didn't come from up high, however. Instead, they were shouted by another eight humans who had just emerged from the forest. Armed with long spears, they charged Andreth.

Surprise over the ambush gave way to fury, and Hatchling knew she had to act. With a quick dash, she intercepted two of the humans, lacerating one with her claws and shattering the ribs of the other with her tail.

Just after, another roar of pain from Andreth drew her eyes to where several of the humans had taken advantage of his distraction to bury their spears into his lower belly. That pained howl turned into an angry growl as he turned his attention to the spearmen. He raised an arm, as if to sweep the ground, but when he saw Hatchling among the humans, he hesitated. In such narrow confines, there was too much danger of catching her in his wide attacks.

That hesitation cost him. The humans wrenched their spears from his flesh and drove them in again, eliciting another bellow of pain, this one weaker than before. Blood was draining from the punctures in his body, and his strength with it.

During all this, some of the humans turned their attention to Hatchling. They surrounded her, using their spears to box her in. Desperate, she lunged at one of the spearmen, taking a deep slice to her shoulder as she did so. She ignored the wound and kept going, raking the man across the throat with her claws. He dropped his spear in surprise and grasped at his now bleeding neck.

Hatchling turned around as another human thrust his weapon at her. She dodged to the side, then grabbed the shaft, just below the spearhead. Using the strength granted by her dragon's blood, she yanked it from his grip, then turned it around and pierced him through the heart with it.

She turned to the last of her attackers. His eyes were wide and his entire body was shaking. Hatchling spread her wings as far as she could, then bared her fangs and growled at him.

He ran. “Monster!” he shouted, disappearing into the trees.

Hatchling let him go. She turned around, nearly crying out in despair at what she saw.

Andreth had fallen to the ground and backed himself up against the crag, as far as he could go. Lying on his side, he snapped at the last three humans with his fangs, desperately trying to keep them at bay. But his movements were sluggish. He was too weak to put up a real fight.

Hatchling rushed forward, mauling one of the distracted humans from behind. One of his comrades looked at her in surprise, and Andreth took advantage of the distraction to snatch the man up in his jaws. He crunched down hard, then tossed the corpse aside.

This left one human, who, with a roar, lunged for Andreth. Hatchling dashed forward, gripping him by the back of his tunic and throwing him backward.

But she was too late. Just before being grabbed, the man managed to drive his spear into Andreth's heart. When Hatchling flung him backward, his weapon remained lodged in the big dragon's flesh.

The sight of it filled her with murder. She turned to the human, lying on his back and struggling to rise. She crouched over him to straddle his body, then gripped his head with one hand and—

"Lira?" the human said. "Lirathea, is that you?"

Hatchling paused.

"It must be!" the human continued. "I don't know how, but it's true. Your birthmark—I would recognize it anywhere. Oh, Lira. When the wolves took you, and your mother and I couldn't find where they had gone, we thought the worst. But you're alive!" He eyed her up and down. "I don't know what has happened to you, but Alen was wrong. You are no monster. You are my daughter—no matter what. Come. Come home with me. Your mother will be overjoyed to see you returned."

But Hatchling didn't know human speech. She understood nothing of what he said. However, judging by the tears quickly forming in his eyes, she guessed he was probably begging for mercy.

Hatchling had none to give him.

She bent his head back, then drove her fangs into his neck and tore his throat out. The man gurgled and thrashed for a time, and then he was dead.

It became quiet then. There was only the sound of Andreth's ragged breaths. Exhausted and bloody, Hatchling stood and approached her sire, who was watching her with his one remaining eye. He raised his wings, then signed a few words, slowly and weakly. I'm so sorry.

Sorry? Hatchling signed. This is my fault, not yours. I was seen in the forest, and now— She couldn't bring herself to sign further. Her breaths came quicker as sorrow and regret overwhelmed her.

No, Andreth insisted. It all started with me. You're a— He paused then, and in his eye she saw remorse, shame, and doubt.

I'm a what? Hatchling asked.

You are a dragon, he finished. His wings drooped to the ground then, his eye closed, and his breathing slowed until it stopped altogether.

Hatchling collapsed against Andreth's lifeless head. She caressed the scales of his face, then wailed half-human, half-dragon cries until exhaustion claimed her and she fell asleep lying against his snout.

When she awoke, the sun was shining brightly, but her world remained dark. She had to get away from here—had to move on. But what to do, and where to go? She could think of only one place. With heavy steps and a heavier heart, Hatchling began walking north.

Toward Harvestfall, and the leaves like every shade of the sunset.