Hurricane Season

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. The Valley was rather far off the normal migration routes. Dragons flying north to the Canadian Rockies kept to the airways over the Sierra Nevada range, the Cascades, and the Rockies. Those heading for their normal breeding grounds in the eastern portions of North America—the Great Adirondack Park, and further north into maritime Canada—usually kept to the route above the Appalachians and Adirondacks. Dragons seldom veered off-route to fly over the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Until one lost and lonely young female named Praesentia Cita got blown off-course by an unseasonably early hurricane.

It was Praesentia Cita’s first solo flight. Since she’d hatched seventy-five years earlier, she’d always flown north with her parents, and her brothers and sisters. They were a tight-knit family, as most dragon families are, at least until the brood reached maturity. But in the year 2022, by the human calendar, Prae’s mama and papa, Cyanolophodra and Thecodondracus, announced that they were expecting a new brood. It was time for their teenage kids to fly solo, and start their own families. So Prae’s sisters and brothers and Prae herself set off alone from the Florida Everglades to the Summerlands in Nova Scotia.

In years past, the hurricane season in the Southern United States had started in May and ended in November. Weather patterns had been reliable and meshed perfectly with the dragons’ migratory habits. But climate change had upset the norms and now Prae found herself alone in mid-April, battling cyclonic wind and torrential rain above the mountains of North Carolina.

Her mind was as battered as her wings. Flying alone, in the dark of a storm-tossed night, terror overtook her. Gone were the dreams she’d shared just days ago with her sisters, of finding a mate of her own in the Summerlands, of rising in her first mating flight and brooding her own clutch of eggs. Now, it was all she could do to stay aloft as the wind raged around her, tossing her about like a leaf.

The wind blew her far off her route. Prae dropped lower, skimming the tops of the rounded mountains, her dangling hind legs barely clearing the tallest pines. Then, a monstrous gust of wind seized her and flipped her upside down, wings wrapped around her serpentine body, completely useless in the storm. With a howl, the evil wind twisted Prae into a puzzle of scales and tail and terrified eyes seeking refuge from the early hurricane, finally sending her crashing to the Valley's floor.

***

“What on earth?”

The voice of a human female broke through the storm still raging in Praesentia Cita’s head. It took an enormous effort to crack open one eye, the uppermost one. Prae was lying on the Valley floor in a jumbled heap of scales and limbs and coils, and there was something very sharp digging into her shoulder.

The loud human voice was too close to her sensitive ear for comfort, so Prae raised a forelimb and swatted. Luckily, she was weakened from her battle with the hurricane winds. Luckily, the storm—in addition to bringing down the young dragon—had strewn foliage from the nearby trees in a deep muddle across the front yard. And, therefore also luckily, the woman Prae had swatted flew less than twenty feet through the air before landing on the remains of her herb garden.

Prae lifted her head, blinking both eyes rapidly to clear them. She found herself looking into the shocked face of the woman whose house she had landed on. For that, in fact, was what was digging into her shoulder.

The house.

More of a cottage, really. It had been just one story tall. It wasn’t anymore. Praesentia Cita’s falling body had crushed the front half to flinders. The dragon squirmed her way carefully out of the debris, finally pulling herself mostly upright. Unfortunately, her right wing was trapped beneath a splintered armoire. She was going to need some help getting out of this mess.

The human woman watched this operation with her mouth hanging open. It certainly wasn’t every day that one’s home was crushed by a dragon. Not in the year 2022. Not in the United States of America.

“I thought you were a tree,” the woman said.

Praesentia said nothing. In fact, dragons do not have the anatomy to produce human speech. She lifted her front left foot, crooked a claw, and waved it slowly at the human. The woman watched with wide eyes. Then she raised a shaking hand and waved back.

“I thought you were a tree," the woman said again. "Falling on my house. Are you…real?”

Prae nodded her head slowly up and down. Slowly, because her head was pounding. Although the hurricane had passed, the air pressure was still painful, especially to her sensitive skull. She crooked her claw again, and this time indicated that the woman should come closer.

Naturally, when confronted with a dragon lying coiled amidst the debris of her home, the woman kept her distance.

Prasentia Cita sighed, and then groaned. She tried to shift her weight away from the debris but that armoire was heavy, and a sharp piece of the splintered mahogany held her pinned. It had pierced her wing and if Prae moved, she feared it would tear the delicate flesh clean through. She lowered her head to the ground, blinking slowly, and forced a single, glistening tear to roll down her snout.

Humans are weak and puny, it is true, their bones easy to snap under the pressure of a dragon’s claws. But they are also sentimental. They want to be heroes, rescuers of the weak and injured. And Prae needed rescuing.

She just had to convince this woman that she wasn’t a threat.

As noted, however, dragons are unable to speak. Anatomy. Prae had to make contact skin-to-skin, if she wanted to speak mind-to-mind. Her parents had taught all of their brood this legend, although neither they nor their own parents nor their parents’ parents had ever actually done it. Dragons in modern times tended to keep themselves to themselves, for safety’s sake.

But here she was. This was the direst of dire situations. And she had to see if the legends were true.

Giant head laid out across the field of debris, amongst shards of brick and broken windows and roofing shingles, Prae gave a soft moan, blinking mournfully at the woman. The woman unconsciously stepped forward. One step. Two. Three…

When the enormous mythical beast lying amidst the debris of her home didn’t move, didn’t threaten her, she came even closer. Reached out to lay a hand on the green-blue scaled forehead. Prae closed her eyes and sighed again. The woman patted her head gently. Prae began to purr. The woman scratched between her ears. Prae purred louder, a tiny wisp of smoke curling up from her nostrils.

The scratching stopped and Prae cracked open one eyelid. The nictating membrane of her inner eyelid rolled back as she looked the woman full in the face. The woman was captured, mesmerized by the reptilian eye. She never moved as Prae lifted her claw and laid it against the woman’s cheek.

The softer pad below the claw rubbed against the delicate human skin. It was enough.

Contact established, Prae reached inside the woman’s mind. There was a name there, memories of a short, unimpressive life. Nothing of importance, really. But there was intelligence enough.

:My wing is trapped: Prae sent her thought into the primitive mind. :Free me:

She allowed her claw to drop. All she had to do was think at the woman now, and the human would know her wishes.

Shaking her head as if emerging from hypnosis, the woman blinked rapidly. She moved along Prae’s side, to the trapped wing. She threw off a piece of sodden wallboard, tossed a broken chair behind her, and saw where the armoire had splintered, trapping the delicate membrane of Prae’s wing. Moving carefully to avoid further damage, the woman pulled a three-foot-long piece of mahogany post out of the membrane.

Prae craned her long neck around, lifting her damaged wing and peering closely at the hole. It ached, but wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. In a few days—with proper rest and care—it would be as good as new. She smiled, as well as she was able, and the woman smiled back at her.

:Thank you, my friend: Prae sent the grateful thought into the human’s mind. :You have done me a great service:

The woman, by now bonded to the giant reptile, wrapped her arms around Prae’s neck in a reassuring hug. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need,” she said softly. When in life did someone ever get a chance like this? To meet a creature out of mythology? To help that creature? This was an amazing adventure, borne out of a hurricane, no less.

:Do you mean this in truth?: Prae questioned. Her parents had raised her and her siblings to behave politely in all situations, and Prae would never take advantage of someone offering hospitality. :I need rest and food, to regain my strength and continue my journey:

“Of course,” the human woman said. “Whatever you need. I’m here for you.”

Prae dipped her head gratefully in acknowledgement. :Much thanks to you:

***

The human woman provided just the nourishment Prae needed to recuperate, although her arms and legs were scrawny and didn’t offer much meat. Prae would have preferred a human with more fat on her bones. But the head did make a nice dessert.

Her mother had always told her offspring to save the best bits for last.

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. After Prae left, there wouldn't be any again for a very long time.

And that was all to the good.

Thank you for reading! Likes, comments, shares, follows, and pledges are always cherished.

Author's Note: This story didn't turn out at all as I expected. Praesentia Cita really had me fooled as to her intentions. I thought that the dragon and the woman would live happily ever after, good friends in the peaceful valley. I guess you really can't trust a dragon's motives, after all!

I have challenged myself to write twenty-seven dragon prologues/stories for the Vocal.media Fantasy Prologue Challenge, one for each day the challenge runs. Here's a link to my next entry: