Reconciliation

The moist earth was mottled with green sunlit hues filtered through the canopy above-- random, disjunct, and artful in the way only nature is. The air carried the scent of the forest. Warm, musky, slightly sweet. It was quiet here. While the plants were at home in these woods, and the ground teemed with small fauna, insects and the like, larger creatures rarely ventured this part of the land, keeping instead to the deeper, densest reaches of the forest, and the valley that sprawled beyond the final crags where roots held their purchase. In the opposite direction, the space between the trees gradually grew wider, thinning from forest to plains, where small villages could be found. Here, though, was quiet. Quiet, save for the wind as it whistled above, and the gentle rustle of the waxy leaves, the subtle crunch of insect workers… and the wail, the horrible, piercing wail of something unseen.

Strobus’s scales rippled in a shiver at the sound as he crouched low, slinking between the trunks and brambles towards the cry. He was alone here, usually. It wasn’t until closer to the clearings that he was able to hear, smell, then finally see the typical object of his attention: humans. His claws sunk into the spongey, humid dirt with each step. It wasn’t long before the scent of the sound’s source intermingled with that of the forest. It was slightly acrid and bitter, familiar to Strobus, but not most of his kind. There was also a saltiness to the scent, not unlike the smell of the not-for-drinking water that lined the far coast. A few more trees, and sight revealed the source: a small human child, sat upon his rump, water staining his cheeks and eyes swollen red and shut. His gaping mouth periodically released the distressing sound.

Strobus paused. A human this small was not usually alone– certainly not usually anywhere near the barrier zone of the forest, where even the elder humans did not venture. He crouched lower, and flicked his tail with trepidation. This was not an easy circumstance. Unlike most of his kind, Strobus did not believe that the humans were particularly dangerous or violent. That was why he was here– he enjoyed watching them, learning about them, and daydreaming on the notion that perhaps one day their respective kinds could return to the fabled, near-ancient days of camaraderie told of in the half-heart legends of the oldest dragons. However, he did believe that they were near impossible to communicate with, and he was acutely aware of their fearful reactions to his kind. That was why he kept to the periphery for spectating, brown scales camouflaged in the lofty branches of the forest-edge trees, and dark green wings tucked close to his body in mimic of the leaves.

Strobus had spent much time watching the humans and their curious ways. He knew that they relied much more heavily on audible communication than did the dragons, who conveyed much through body language, supplemented with the hisses and growls of their natural tongue. He also knew that their posture-language was often backwards from that of the dragons. Humans bared their teeth in greeting and familiarity, not challenge or warning, for example. He had picked up on the basics of their language, and recognized some of the sound combinations from gathering context over long viewing sessions.

None of that solved the present predicament. Strobus needed to make a decision. He could not leave the small human. It was distressed, and from what he understood, young humans were very fragile and required assisted care. He could not take the small child back with him. His kin would refuse it’s entry to their caves in the valley and hollows in the ancient trees, for fear of retaliation from the other humans, and even for fear of the nebulous dangers this small one may present, given the unpredictable nature of humans. The most reasonable solution for the young one’s safety was to return it to it’s own… but that would likely bode unwell for Strobus's safety. It was, he thought, the only tenable solution though. With another trepidatious ripple of his earthy scales, he sidled forward towards the child.

Much deeper in the forest, along the rocky cliffs that dropped off into the valley below, a young woman stood in a shadow and gazed out to the expanses. She was garbed in simple, loose clothing, ideal for hunting and hiking, and her dark tresses were pulled and twisted into a knot at the base of her neck. Her face was serene, at peace with the surroundings as her deep brown eyes surveyed the sky. She was the only person, to her knowledge at least, that still traveled this side of the barrier woods. She was here to watch the dragons, unseen and unobtrusive. She knew that the others believed she was in danger- that she would fail to return one day, having been eaten by some great beast. But she knew this was not the case. Once, her great grandmother had told her, dragons and humans were companions.

Olacea knew the stories that were told. That one day, lifetimes ago, a group of dragons attacked, unprovoked, killing the humans that thought them friends. That war broke loose, and retreat was the only end to the blood shed. That the barrier woods had become the unspoken no-mans-land, the only way to keep peace. But Olacea also knew the truth- or her version of it, at least. Passed down in her family, the story of what had transpired that ill-fated day. An accident. A misunderstanding. A man that foolhardishly tempted fate, sparring too close to the cliff’s edge, and plummeted. A dragon that tried to be heroic, dropping, and dropping, wings tucked down, reaching for the man, and clasping him in his claws too late and too injured to save. A dragon that misjudged his descent, tumbling and becoming injured himself, arriving at the base of the cliff bloodied and with the man still within his grasp. And a tribe of humans below, shocked and fearful, that attacked the beast and slew him as well. Two lives lost, and innumerable lives separated, as the misunderstanding grew, as many do, to complete warfare.

She sighed, the forest’s air heavy in her lungs. She longed for those days past, to connect with the dragons and mend the bridge between their species. Her grandmother told her that in those times, dragons understood the word of men, and men the postures and sounds of dragons, communicating freely with one another. It seemed outlandish to her, but she believed. Olacea was on a mission, then, to regain what was lost. She was here watching so that she could understand. So that she could learn the language of dragons, and rekindle peace. With the sun nearing its peak in the sky Olacea began the hike back to her home village.

The sound of Strobus’s claws on the dirt received the child’s attention as he approached. The young one looked up, its sniffle catching in his throat, as its eyes widened at the creature. Strobus kept his eyes low, and his wings folded on his back, carefully approaching the child. When close enough, he nudged it with his snout, pushing upward. The child yelped in surprise, falling back. The dragon then carefully grasped the child’s clothing in his mouth, lifted, and snaked his neck around to deposit the small human between his shoulder blades in the small of his back, where he hoped it would remain. He then aimed course at the forest periphery, where the human villages stood. It was only several steps before the child tottered off his back to the ground below, landing with a soft thump. The child giggled, a rolling sound that was much more pleasant than the shrieking of earlier. Its teeth were shining in a wide grin. Strobus paused, re-assessing. This wouldn’t do. He surveyed the canopy above, and identifying the small white flowers he sought, rose on his haunches and dug his claws into a trunk, climbing upwards. He collected a mouthful of the flowers, careful to not crush the stems in his jaws, and descended.

These were sleep-inducing plants. The dragon had seen the humans sink them in bubbling water before bed, and his own kind often chewed the leaves and flowers as the sun sank low on the horizon. Joining the child once more, Strobus deposited the plant on the ground and crushed it beneath his paw before clutching the combination of soil and pollen-smattered debris and kicking it towards the small human. It sneezed, once, twice, and then coughed a few hearty coughs. Its eyes then became heavy, and its body loosened. The dragon took a new approach now, grasping the child carefully in his claws, and spreading his wings to drift low along the forest ground, weaving between the trees that became less and less frequent as they neared the forest edge. As the woods thinned, Strobus gained height, soaring upwards to catch the air current and ease some of the weight of the child. The village was near.

Olacea had a growing sense of unease as she neared her home. Where was Idien? Surely, he was watching their child, but there was no light leaking from the windows of their home. Missing, too, was the bustle of the village, which was eerily quiet for this time of day. A hushed silence blanketed the surroundings, and as she grew nearer the center of town, it became clear there was a gathering of sorts in the central courtyard. She joined, weaving through the crowd to find her husband and child. She heard the whispers around her– reckless, forest, danger, eaten by dragons– and identified Idien beside the village healer, Alona. He was speaking in hurried tones, his face flushed and contorted with worry. He froze as he saw Olacea approach.

Her throat was tight as realization dawned. “Where is our child, Idien?”

He grimaced, and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Alona interjected.

“Your husband is shameful and your child is as good as gone. Idien allowed the little one to totter off into the forest alone, while he tended to the horses and fields.”

“You lost our child?!” she asked, voice unsteady and rising to a shrill tone. “Alone for one brief morning and the child is gone?”

He worked his mouth like a fish out of water, gasping for the right words where none existed. “He was playing in the fields, I didn’t imagine he would wander off, everyone knows to keep from the forest except for you, who do you think he learned it from?” The tone shifted from sheepish to defensive, even accusatory, as he finished his sentence. Olacea simply stared, before shifting on her feet to return to the forest.

“Where are you going?!” cried Alona.

“To find my child.”

She had only retraced half the distance back towards the forest before a rush in the air gave her pause. She recognized the sound as dragon wings, but knew that there would be no such sound on this side of the barrier woods. As her gaze shifted upwards, though, she was baffled to see a brown and green mass above, carrying something in its claws that weighed each heavy beat of its wings as it flew. “It couldn’t be–”

Olacea’s thought was interrupted by the bugle of an alarm horn sounding, followed by a shuffle of men from their homes, and the rapid twang of arrows being strung.

“No.”

Strobus breathed heavily with each stroke of his tired wings, grateful that the village was near. He could smell the humans and their large farm-beasts. He could deliver the child, and then, hopefully, return home without incident. He was not so naïve, though. The large humans could pose a danger, if only from fear alone. As he began to descend towards the village, a loud sound rang out, and there was a shift in the scent and sound of the village below. He tensed, hardening his scales against his body and bracing himself. There was a whizzing sound as a volley of arrows soared forward, several striking his wings. He roared in pain, struggling to maintain hold on the small human that would surely perish from this height if dropped. He pulled his wings closer, approaching the ground faster than before.

The people of the village tensed as the dragon roared. Why were they under attack? Why was a dragon flying beyond the barrier woods, and directly at their village, no less. Were there more en route?

“Stop!” screamed Olacea. “Stop! That dragon does not mean harm. It is holding my child. Please allow it to land.”

Strobus landed hard on his side, a puff of dried dirt rising as his shoulder connected with the ground. Blood dripped from several injuries on his wings. The child, though, was safe. He released it from his grasp and scrambled, stumbling, to his feet. He crouched low to the ground and tucked his injured wings, feeling the blood pool under and around his scales. He heaved in ragged, painful breaths. As several humans approached, he wondered if perhaps his kin were right. Maybe this entire venture was a mistake.

Olacea quickened her pace, sprinting towards where the unstable dragon had landed roughly. She knew that the child was with the dragon– but was it safe? She pushed past the shuddering crowd that was gathering, and slowed as she was able to see the scene. Her child lay limp beside the dragon… but breathing deeply, and apparently unscathed, sleeping? She hurried over and lifted the child to her bosom, sighing in relief and ignoring the gasps of those around her that she was so close to the dragon. Here, she turned her attention, and whispered a low hiss and attempted to mimic several sounds she had heard from the dragons, sounds she believed to be greeting and well meaning. The brown dragon blinked and raised his head, then nodded.

Did this human speak in dragon tongue? Strobus issued several sounds in return, slowly, and quietly. The woman seemed to understand. She turned, then, and spoke to the others. He thought that he recognized some of what she said. He knew she spoke of him, and of peace, and of her child, but the details could not be followed. She turned her attention to him once again, gestured at another, and motioned in the dragon’s posture for healing. How did she know the meaning of those movements? With an inviting motion from the woman, the additional human stepped forward, slowly, cautiously, and began to look over the wounds in the dragon’s wings. Strobus lowered them, allowing her to work. He winced as the arrows were removed, and straightened as the work was done. He dipped his head in thanks to both women.

With the child safely back where it belonged, Strobus was prepared to return to the valley. But he was enthralled with the knowledge that there was a human among them that still understood the dragons, and wondered what that might mean. Wondered if peace could truly be an option again. He growled in a low tone to her, unsure if she would recognize the meaning, that he would return. She would be invited to accompany him back, in the near future, to show the others that humans aren’t as violent or unpredictable as believed. Soon, Strobus and Olacea knew a new day would dawn.