Little One

I drift over the forest like I do every morning. The light has risen just below the trees, so I’m still seeing heat rise from all the little creatures in the dark below. I could catch one with ease, but my appetite is as apathetic as my flying.

The wind fights against my wings. The mountains usually send a strong undercurrent here; I turn my nose down and descend into the lonely valley.

Maybe I’m flying too low. Mother always did scold me when I flew as low as the trees; she knew I would hit my nose or scratch my wing. Mother isn’t here, and I really don’t care anyway.

I slowly weave between the branches until it all starts blurring together and my thoughts are occupied. No one is here-just me and the forest asking how fast can I fly?

The green and brown and yellow and red all blend together and all I can feel is the speed I’m gaining; except the pain in my chest remains. It weighs me down like an old mountain stone. If I go faster, will it lift off me? It has to eventually.

Soon I’m like a hatchling again, flying so fast and so low with nothing to fear and nothing to weigh me down except-

CRASH

The ground came fast and hard. That time, it did hurt a little. I look up and assess the damage. A sycamore, it seems I’ve struck, and it torn in two. My shoulder cracked some of its largest branches.

I’m sorry, but I know I’ll probably do it again in the coming days to another innocent tree.

The loud, steady sound of the waterfall reaches my crash spot. The big river must be over the ridge. I hadn’t realized I flew this far into the valley. This is where the Man Travelers stop to drink, but I’m too heavy and defeated to fly, so I sulk towards the water. I’ll lick my wounds and have some drink, maybe even a swim.

A bear mother looks back at me from across the way, and when she decides I mean them no harm, she leads her two rowdy cubs along. I think they will follow the pink fish upriver like my kind follow the new fish over the summer sea.

I slip into the water and shut my eyes. I like the quiet under here. I’m glad to have the river to myself.

I wonder If I would take my hatchling beyond the valley where the new mothers feed their young. The stone in my heart gets heavy again… Enough swimming.

I pull myself on the shore and wander on. Circles of embers litter the ground in the hazy treeline. A camp.

The Man Travelers must have left here in the night, it seems, because the circles show little heat. So they are traveling back home from my valley, and in a hurry! A few pieces of colorful hyde still hang from branches, tied up sideways. These must be their shelters that they left behind. Why would they leave such pretty and useful things behind?

Then again, I always prefer the golden leaves and stars of the mountain to sleep under, but I guess they don’t sleep in the open.

I prod and smell one of the shelters. These creatures smell interesting, not a vicious and bloody smell, like I thought, but like the soil and woodsmoke and- I CAN’T SEE-a trap!

I leap back and try to shake the rope and hide off my face. I rear up on my haunches and flap my wings to free myself of the Man Traveler’s horrible device and I hear a sound…

I shouldn’t linger where they have been. I look down at my trap, which is just a harmless pile of rope and hide. I’m being ridiculous. I stretch my wings up and down; my shoulder stings, but I can manage a glide…

What’s that noise?

The soft and clear sound of a crying animal? But it sounded…happy. I should definitely go… but something tells me to stay. The stone in my chest lifted a little when I heard-

There's that noise again!

I turn quickly to see the source, but there's nothing. The sound is below, so I look down to see- a Man Traveler!

I turn and dive into the river. A Man Traveler! Here in front of me! Mother always warned me to stay away, especially from the packs.

Once I'm at a safe distance I peek my head out of the water. I can hardly believe it. I’m usually in the feeding groves this time of year… maybe it lives here.

It stands there, watching me. It has shiny yellow fur on its head, like the yellow fields in the Man country, and like the golden shell on the eggs of my family.

I didn't know they could have fur in that color.

Its little eyes are open wide, but it doesn’t seem afraid.

I think it's just as surprised to see me. And…It’s so small…

It must be a hatchling.

With the shock fading, and seeing no others, I gather my courage and climb back to shore. The hatchling is watching me. And watching me. It looks at my wings and haunches and eyes, and stays. It’s gazing into my eyes.

It has light in its eyes, though they are as brown as soil, with honey brown specks like my amberscale hide. They shine back at me. I wonder if it is equally fascinated with mine, though I don’t know if mine are yellow like my mother’s, or so captivating as this creature’s.

Time passes, and something needs to happen, when it takes some stumbling steps toward my front claws-

I hurry back; I should scope out the horizon to find its pack. Shaking the water off my wings, I prepare to fly into the surrounding sky to search for the Man Travelers- there it goes again with the amusement sound. It jumps and wriggles in happiness as the water rains down on it.

I like this sound.

I run a few paces away, I need to find them. I never thought I would want to find a pack of Man, but here I go searching. Safely behind me, my wings don't push the small one down and I leap into the sky. The horizon is bare of heat, at least any heat large enough to belong to a pack of Man Travelers. If they have stopped to make fire, they are past what I can see.

The small one is yellow on the head.

That color once meant everything to me. And its brown eyes remind me of the scales of my forebears. Can this mean, it is for me? Was I destined to find a lost hatchling after I was left behind?

I see no mother to defend it, and It probably won’t survive on its own. With round pebbles for teeth and with no natural fear of a dragon…

Yes, I think I will keep this little one as my own.

I may be small for one of my kind, and dull in color compared to the vibrant blues and reds and other variations of dragon, but brown is the color of my kin. And I am glad one of us remains. And yet this small Man Traveler was not afraid. It doesn’t seem to know the dangers.

I glide back to the riverside and approach it once again. It bares its teeth and raises its haunches. I hope this means it trusts me as I move closer to smell it. I don’t think those teeth will do much harm regardless.

She smells interesting-Like the hanging hides I discovered, like her pack. And she smells like a she. Yes this creature is female. And she smells like another she-man, or whatever you call a Man Traveler who is a she. The little one smells like them and the flowers that grow in the fields downriver.

The brown hide covering that she wears ripples when I breathe out; she chirps in her amusement once again. Before I can move back, she’s putting her soft claws in my mouth! How fortunate you are, little one, that I don’t plan to eat you!

Eating… she will get hungry. We should head to the fruit tree grove.

I open my claw slowly on the ground and scoop the little one up. Gently and safely, I do hope safely, I hold her to my chest and take flight.

She makes lots of noise, none of which sounds fearful. This is good. We soar away from the light then back towards the mountain wall until I see the familiar purple leaves of the fruit grove. We set down on the floor of moss and I get to work collecting a new batch of food for Little one.

I hold my wing under a branch of the tree that I shake in my teeth, and plenty of ripe fruit land in. My scales of course break open most of the plump fruits on impact, but little one doesn't seem to mind.

She happily eats her fill, and I decide to have a meal of my own. A beautiful maple tree stands in the grove. I slice a large branch off and I chew to the filling center.

. . .

After a wonderful day of chasing and catching Little one in the branches and showing her the sky, she begins to slow down. Suddenly she falls far, and this time I must jump forward to catch her, but she lands in my claw hard.

This noise is not happy or amused. This noise Little one is making is an anguish that I cannot make stop. The stone in my chest is back and it feels like it was injected with stinging poison.

What should I do? What did mother do when I flew too fast and fell?

Then I remember the place where the mothers and hatchlings stayed, the place I have avoided in these last months. It is the place of my pain. But Little one is crying out, and I know nowhere else to take her.

So we fly to the nesting place, high up in the mountains, where the great trees stand with their golden leaves and the springs flow with cloud waters.

I lay Little one down in one of the many nests that cover the ground. Water runs from her eyes still, though her noises have diminished. I look at her yellow hair and her sad face and can’t stop myself from remembering.

Here on this mountain I had my egg. It was so beautiful how it shined yellow and matched the leaves up above. How long I waited for my hatchling to emerge. My sisters waited as long as they could, before taking their young to the feeding grove. Before leaving me behind.

And here I am again. My sisters gone away, and a yellow hatchling that I don’t know how to help. Only last time, she didn’t hatch.

I wish my young could have hatched. I wish she could have looked up to see the light of the stars and the light of day beaming through the trees…

That's it!

I flap my wings and climb up a great tree. Little one cries seeing me go, but I am determined to show her my idea. I flap my wings in the branches and push them apart with all my force until the light comes through.

Yellow leaves and daylight shine down on her. She looks up in wonder, just as I looked up at my mother in these trees.

I climb down to bask in the light with my Little one.

. . .

When we awake, the night is sinking back down the horizon. Little one stirs but doesn’t open her eyes. I uncurl myself from around the nest and walk to watch the light rise in the valley below.

This morning I will not fly down to the big river. I finally have a hatchling to care for.

Wait; I see a heat in the ridges below.

I can’t see what it is, but I know where it is. I don’t want to go there ever again, but the creature is far too high in the mountains. If it has come this far already… I need to protect us.

I look back at little one’s yellow head peeking over the nest. I drop some leaves on her so she will blend in, then glide down the ridges for the first time ever, with this purpose.

When I reach the rocks above the heat source, I land softly and creep low towards the edge. I look over the rock to see the sacred, horrible, beautiful place.

The misty waters flow down the sides of the shining cave opening, and once again my eyes are overwhelmed with the beautiful explosion of colors and light. Rainbows shimmer in the air around the cave, where the eggs lay unmoving, never to hatch, and never to be disturbed.

The mist shines the shells eternally, so their many colors shine even brighter as the eons pass. This place is sacred, undisturbed by Man, Beast, or Dragon. And yet there, kneeling before the cave, is a She-Man.

At first I feel like fire, ready to swoop down and roar and bite, ready to chase this intruder down the mountain. But I could never disturb this sacred place. I could never bring harm to those eggs, my egg, even in my rage.

So I wait for the intruder to move from the opening.

But then, she lifts her head to sing. A noise of sorrow and piercing crystal waters rise from below.

She cried out to the air above. It was a sound I had never made, but a sound I knew in my heart. I know why she has come here.

. . .

It wasn’t easy to say goodbye to Little One, but a mother’s song was heard, and a hatchling returned home. I can’t say whether I’ll migrate to be with the others, or If I’ll return to the nesting mountain again, but I know of a new place.

I still like to sleep below the stars, but now I often sleep in the shelter beside the Man Grove. A very unusual way for a dragon to pass her time, I know, but my wings could use a break from flying that stone around. Besides, I can see the light rise better from outside the valley. And here I can still watch my Little one Shine.