Hatchling

Nothing about a human child should be able to frighten a dragon, but Eltanin fled at the sight of her, nonetheless. From his vantage point in the clouds, he could see her clearly below. Cowering alone amongst the snow covered conifers, she looked incredibly insignificant. Beneath matted furs, her skin was such a faded color that the blood within was faintly visible. Bellowing flames of bright crimson hair stuck to her wet eyes. No, it wasn’t her appearance that frightened Eltanin. Of all the beasts inhabiting the Hrellik Mountains, which could claim to invoke more terror than he? It was the impossibility of her that was most alarming. No matter how far he flew or how fast he traveled, she was always there at the corner of his vision, shivering and pleading, and always alone.

It had not been many moons since her first appearance. Sleep, it seemed, was the only reprieve from the bizarre stalker. With eyes firmly shut and his mind far removed from reality, he could find peace. Yet, Eltanin couldn’t sleep forever, and he was starving. Of late, he had only managed to find one meager meal that wouldn’t tide him over much longer.

Giving up on the hunt, he traveled to his nest on tired wings. Time to rest. The relief he felt at seeing his mountain home immediately dissipated once he reached the summit.

Standing at the mouth of his cave stood the human hatchling.

Why won’t you let me be?

Eltanin let out a guttural roar. Stones shook and snow shifted with a groan as he landed in front of her. Without a sound, the girl shrank to her knees and raised her hands as if to fend him off. Tears streamed down her anguished face.

"Please don’t-."

The girl’s plea was far too much to bear.

"ENOUGH!"

Stomping clawed feet, he charged and felt the familiar burn in his throat as a stream of red flame escaped his maw. His eyes shut with a sharp click, and the world became dark as the heat of the flame filled the air. With an apprehension that was unfamiliar to him, he peered at the cave entrance. The girl was gone. There was no ash or bone left behind—no evidence she had ever existed, only smoldering rock that glowed like burning coals. Eltanin had expected as much, he knew the girl to be dead. He had eaten her three nights prior.

There was no word that Eltanin could formulate to perfectly encapsulate his feelings. He was a dragon, a spark of the living fire that created the world. What was a puny human compared to his might? Despite his wishes, the hatchling kept appearing, kept creeping into his mind like a whisper in the night.

Guilt. It was the closest approximation of what raged within him. Dragons do not mourn their prey. Yet, there was something about seeing the defenseless youngling that poked at the depths of him.

On the horizon, nestled between the spires of Mount Yfiran and Beyling, rested the human infestation. It was comically small. A rough-hewn collection of ramshackle wooden huts and empty pastures Eltanin found that the more he watched the humans go about their meaningless day, the more the youngling appeared to him. It had been their fault, after all. They had let it run free in the night. They had continued to inhabit the forest after he settled here many years ago. You were theirs to protect, and they let you go. He had done his best to avoid the two-legs, but that time was over.

The might of his body felt weightless as he soared from his perch above the forest.

Screams reached his ears first. A new generation of men had been born and raised to adulthood since the last time he flew this close to the scattered human nest. They reminded him of bugs after flipping over a bolder, tiny scurrying things realizing far too late that the safety of their home was an illusion. In one fell swoop he could burn their homes to ash, but that wouldn’t be enough. He needed to feel flesh rip beneath his claws and bones shatter between his teeth. It would be the only thing that could satisfy — could distract him.

Most of the humans had decided to hoard together in the largest of the wooden structures. Only a small force remained outside. Each amusingly took what were meant to be hidden positions. Curved wooden tools and sticks with pointed metal tips adorned their backs. Foolish. Do they dare to insult me so blatantly? They could no sooner hunt him than a rabbit could kill a mountain lion.

A low hum of human flesh against string and the whining whistle of projectiles flying were all the warnings he needed to tuck his wings closely to his sides. He fell with the speed of a star across the sky.

Wailing children echoed through the valley as his might shook the ground upon impact. Dust clouds bloomed. Wind buffeted every direction, and clay shingles tore from roofs. He was a thunderstorm, sudden and ferocious.

"Please.. M-," the voice from before echoed in his mind.

Before it could finish, he roared so loudly that the bones in his chest vibrated.

More screams echoed. Just stop. Snaking his head through the nests, he spotted his first prey. In an instant, the man was between his jaws. Before he could swallow his meal, a tiny pang of discomfort flared from one of his scales. Raising his tail, he smacked it against his side as if to scare off a pestering insect. Pieces of villager dislodged and fell from his teeth as he lazily swung his head around to focus an eye on the culprit.

What’s this? Feeling brave, little mouse?

Under his gaze, the inconsequential creature fell onto its hindquarters and stared upward with a wide horrified wonder. It held a severed human limb close to itself. In the other hand, it held something small, sharp, and metallic.

Eltanin moved to strike, but before he did, something caught his eye. The hair of the creature was the same deep shade of red as the child’s. There was also something in the man’s crudely molded features that resembled his stalker’s. Doubt crept over him. They looked so alike, and for a moment all he could think of was her. The little girl alone in the snow crying for her mother. For the first time in his life, he extended his consciousness toward the mind of a human.

"Was she yours? The small one?"

The two-leg didn’t say a word, and to Eltanin’s surprise, it raised the sharp object and drove it between his scales.

Yanking back with a roar, he slammed his tail on the ground. Wretched worm! The doubt clouding his mind cleared. He would crush the bug flat. With ease, he lifted a paw and slammed it down. A sickly crunch emitted below. Raising his paw again, he examined the puddle of blood and broken chunks of flesh and bone. He licked the excess from his claws and then made his way to the largest of the human nests.

In one fell swoop, he cracked it open. The creatures poured forth like blood from a wound. None of them dared to fight. Mothers dragged their children, who didn’t seem to understand the severity. At the sight, something nestled within the depths of him uncoiled.

The voice returned, "Please, mother-."

This time, Eltanin let it fill his mind. The voice was familiar. It was high-pitched and flecked with the innocence of youth, but not that of the human girl’s. It was his own. An avalanche of memories collided with his mind, trapping him beneath the immovable weight.

Gone was his rage, replaced by two sensations he hadn’t felt since he was a hatchling. First, he was warm not just from the fire roiling in his belly, but from the great sky fire. His muscles were languid, and he moved with great ease. Second, he was terrified. Terrified of the human intruders who could weave magic. Deep within the dryland caves, his family's nest was under attack.

Swirling grains of sand blurred the sight before him. Flashes of blue and red light illuminated the cave walls. His mother’s roars covered the shouts of the two-legs as bolts of energy arced from their clawless paws.

He sent a mental shriek across the cave, “Mother!”

"Fly, Eltanin! Head north. Use the stars!"

"Please, mother!"

"You must leave,” his mother shouted , letting out a roar that sounded more like a cry.

Rejecting his better instincts, he fled from their home. Warm updrafts kept him afloat as his small tired wings beat tirelessly. He didn’t stop flying until the sand turned to snow.

A shiver caused his scales to ripple. Once unlocked, it was difficult to shield himself from the memories. Gone. She’s gone. Rotting beneath the sand while I numb myself in snow.

Eyes wide open, he returned to reality. The remaining humans had fled up a mountain trail. Only one remained. The small redheaded girl glared up at him with an intense expression.

I know.

Gently, he lifted an ivory claw and pressed it to the girl’s face. Like smoke on a breeze, she disappeared. His mind was an inferno of regret and pain. For what seemed like the first time, he let it burn. No more hiding.

With great effort, he unfurled his wings and launched himself into the air. The resounding shockwave smashed into what structures remained. Humans screamed and lost their footing. Eltanin ignored them. Searching the skies, he found lights only his eyes could see—a small collection of stars that would lead him south to the land of sand.