Season of Flame

The fall returned swiftly, its great change sweeping over the land like a spreading fire. With its coming came the shortening of days and the darkening of nights. A coldness swept through the air and grey, unsettled clouds filled the sky. The vibrant, life assuring greenery of the summer, slowly began melting away into equally rich hues of burnt orange, red and yellow. The aptly named Season of Flame was here again.

*

Freyja tightly cradled the delicate bundle in her arms. Like the dry autumn leaves clinging to their withering branches, she feared more than anything the thought of it being torn away from her. And yet, deep in her heart, she had dutifully accepted there was no choice in what was to come.

The mid-morning air was crisp but chill, a playful wind whipped through the trees and whisked up dry leaves to dance and circle all around her. Freyja dipped her head as she walked, trying to brace against the cold breeze that stung and bit at her cheeks. But, as she looked down, her eyes locked once more with the two wide green pools starting back up at her.

A tiny, angelic head peeked out from within the cocoon of thick cloth and furs. Slightly red cheeks splashed some colour onto an otherwise pale face. Yet, this temporary flush of the skin, seemed muted in comparison to the true red of the child’s hair. It wasn’t auburn or tawny, not even copper in colour. Rather, it was a deep, rich, fiery red that fell in wavy curls to frame a perfect oval face.

The girl stared up at her, unblinking in the way only wide-eyed, curious children can. Yet, there was a deep intensity behind the gaze that Freyja found hard to break away from. The child stirred gently but remained otherwise quiet. Another strange and uncommon trait for one so young.

It was generally expected for babies to cry, mewl, whimper or bawl. Yet, the girl did none of these things. She was alert and appeared actively aware of her surroundings, but rarely made any noise to demonstrate so, or otherwise make demands of those around her.

Freyja lifted her arms slightly, bringing the bundled babe closer to her chest. Then looked up and focused once again on the path ahead. Twigs and dry leaves crunched beneath her feet while others continued to whisk by, skittering just above the ground as they got collected and then carried off with the wind.

Narrow trees stretched tall to either side of her, their branches creating a canopy high above that let through a dappled morning light. Birds sang and squirrels rustled the foliage as they darted under brush and among the trees. It was days such as this, Freyja thought, that the forest truly seemed alive.

Continuing forward, she felt a gentle lullaby come unbidden as a hum upon her lips. Murmuring the old tune under her breath, Freyja recognised it as a melody her mother had sang to her when she was just a tiny babe.

She lost herself then for just a brief moment. Wrapped up in the melody and the beauty of the forest, until eventually the trail ahead began its gentle decline, and she was again reminded of the task at hand.

As she walked further along the path, Freyja noticed that the wind had finally stopped. At first, the change was only subtle, as trees slowly halted their gentle swaying and leaves fell still in collected piles upon the floor. But then, even the birdsong melted away, leaving behind an empty, muffled silence. Freyja let her humming gradually die and was suddenly greeted with a wave of deep, unnatural quiet.

She took a long intake of breath. Just ahead of her, light spilled through a slender gap in the trees. As she approached, it opened completely to form a perfectly circular clearing. The glade was a wide expanse of open woodland, symmetrically clear and interrupted only by a single stump right at its very centre.

Freyja edged out from beneath the treeline and approached the middle carefully. Every crunching step over dry, littered leaves now sounded painfully loud in the total stillness of the glade.

The stump at the centre was that of an old oak. It was vastly wide and lined with many thickening rings of various size and colour. The ancient tree had been centuries old and had stood strong and tall before the felling.

Freyja down knelt beside it. One arm wrapped tight around the child as the other reached out to lay a hand palm down on the tree’s remains. Her dark skin contrasted the pale core of the trunk. But the folded wrinkles on the backs of her hands resembled closely its rough, weathered outer bark.

She lifted her hand then brought it back to cradle the child once more. She squeezed with both arms, hugging tightly one last time, then placed the infant on the smooth, flat surface of the felled trunk.

Legs and arms began to move and kick from under the heavy layers of cloth and fur the child was wrapped in. Yet still the girl did not cry out in protest. She instead looked up once more with those wide, piercing green eyes as Freyja leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Fly high little one,” she whispered. A single wet tear rolling down her cheek.

And then she was gone. Retreating slowly back towards the forest as the child, left alone in the middle of the glade, looked around uncertainly, limbs kicking up towards the sky.

*

Don’t look back. That was the rule. That had always been the rule. Yet on this occasion, Freyja couldn’t obey.

As she reached the trees, the girl still hadn’t uttered a sound. So, she turned to make one last check. Then, upon seeing the tiny red-haired infant looking so small and helplessly alone in the glade, she knew she had to stay.

She ducked into the trees and found a spot thick with foliage, it was mostly hidden from view but provided a good vantage of the open clearing. There, she waited.

Freyja cursed her aged body as time dragged and her limbs ached from remaining crouched and hidden within the brush. She rubbed at her pained arms and legs, at all times keeping both eyes upon the child. The girl’s own limbs had stopped kicking and she lay still, possibly asleep.

The sun had just begun to reach its full height within the sky and was peeking into the glade, shining a column of light down upon the clearing. Freyja momentarily worried about the girl’s pale skin, how it was so delicate compared to her own darker complexion, offering no protection against the heat and so might easily burn beneath the sun’s rays.

This fear was irrational of course. As the child was at far greater risk, from a much more immediate threat. Indeed, as this thought crossed her mind, Freyja finally heard a thunderous, tell-tale drumbeat sound approaching from the distance.

The glade grew dark as a great shadow appeared and blocked the open patch of sky. A powerful wind gusted through the clearing in crashing, rhythmic waves as a pair of heavy wings rose and fell in perfect unison. A tremor shook the ground as four heavy limbs dropped to meet the earthen floor.

Freyja couldn’t help but gasp at the sight that beheld her. The dragon was enormous, its great wings spanned the entirety of the glade and even as it moved to fold them close to its body, a long tail flicked out behind it hitting and knocking down one of the perimeter trees.

Despite its monstrous size, the creature still somehow looked sleek and slender. Its muscular frame was solid, yet lean. Its neck and tail, graceful and serpentine. The angular pointed head was long in the snout, but still balanced perfectly with the rest of its body.

The dragon’s most striking feature though of course, we’re the thousands of overlapping emerald scales that covered it completely from tip to tail. They glistened under the midday sun, their colour constantly changing in the reflected light.

Its eyes too almost glowed like green jewels. They held no whites, the solid colour of its deep green irises pierced only by dark slits of black pupil.

The last feature Freyja finally focused on, were the long talon like claws that extended like fingers from its front and hind feet. They were an ivory white, just like the rows of needle-sharp pointed teeth that filled the creatures gaping jaw.

The dragon had landed centrally in the glade and stood with its upper torso looming over the old oak, casting the baby nestled upon it into shadow.

The child stirred once more and as it moved the dragon seemed to take note. It snorted in the air, small puffs of whisky black smoke leaking from its flaring nostrils. Its head arched down as it took a heavy stride back. The ground once again shaking as the creature moved.

The reptilian head leaned in low over the child. Nostrils flared again as it sniffed the girl, a low rumble emanating from deep within its chest. Dark smoke trickled from the creature’s nose and the infant finally got one arm free from her cocoon of cloth to wave and paw at the wispy vapors.

As she swatted at the mist above her, the girl’s hand hit and then came to rest on the tip of the dragon’s snout. She stopped moving and held it there. The dragon froze, standing completely still, its eyes narrowed and locked onto the tiny flame haired baby.

Freyja felt her breath catch in her throat. She held onto it, not daring to expel any of the air building in her chest, as the oppressing silence of the glade and the frozen moment stretched on for a painful duration.

Finally, the dragon blinked. Its head suddenly snapped back in recoil, and it craned its long neck and looked up towards the sky. As it lifted its head, one of its front legs lifted too and came down towards the child. But rather than crashing down upon the babe, the creature's claws stretched out and around the child, scooping the girl up and then bringing her up and in towards its chest.

The dragon’s other legs bent low as it settled into a deep crouch. Then in one smooth motion it launched itself skyward, wings stretching out, down and then in, as it shot straight up like an arrow and disappeared over the trees in almost the blink of an eye.

A single, deafening thunderclap sound rang out as the creature took off. And then the forest was still once more.

*

It was growing dark by the time Freyja approached the village. The return trip had been slow and steady, as her legs were stiff and tired. But also as she had spent the majority of the walk, reliving the last few hours in her mind, going over the details of the dragon encounter.

Part of her had hoped and prayed that the child would be chosen. But, that same part of her had also been too reluctant to consider the other possible alternatives. It had been so long since the last offering had been accepted, in that time, she had almost given up on her dwindling faith.

In that moment, she was filled with a full and genuine sense of relief. At long last, she thought, smiling broadly to herself. The emotion bringing gleeful tears to her eyes.

Alas, her joy didn’t linger. In fact, it faded quickly as she neared the forest edge, and the distinctive smell of smoke tinged the otherwise clear autumn air.

After breaking from the tree line, she could finally see several huge black plumes rising high into the air. The dark clouds would have been hard to spot in the fading light, had their source not shone so brightly. The entire village was awash with a red and yellow glow as flame caught the wooden houses and swallowed them one by one like dry kindling.

Cries rang out in the night as people fled in panic from burning buildings. Women and children ran through the streets in terror or huddled together, cowering in fear. Meanwhile a small group of men gathered by the village edge, hunting bows in hand, firing up towards the sky.

Shrieks echoed all around as shadowy flying creatures darted wildly above the village, then swooped down spewing fire and destruction in their wake.

These monsters were not dragons. They were far smaller than the magnificent creature Freyja had witnessed just a few hours earlier. They also bore only one set of hind legs, their ‘arms’ were instead part of the creatures wings, and they thrust them up and down, flapping frantically to remain airborne.

The fire they breathed however, burned just as real as any dragon’s. And there were just... so many of them. Like a swarm of bats they descended and circled the village.

“Wyverns incoming!!”

The cry came from one of the armed and gathered men, as couple of the creatures broke away from the main group and swooped down low towards them. Arrows rained upwards in response to call.

One of the creatures crashed into the cluster of people, grabbed a stocky man with it’s talon-like claws and flew upwards, carrying him high before dropping him with a crash and a scream through the roof of a burning building.

The second wyvern to attack was hit with either, an incredibly lucky, or incredibly proficient shot to the eye. It plummeted to the ground, thudded on impact with the floor and ploughed the earth for several feet before finally coming to rest, just shy of Freyja’s feet.

She looked down upon the fallen beast. It’s skin was a dull grey and had no covering of colourful scales, but instead appeared hard and leathery. It’s neck and tail were long and lined with a row of delicate spikes, but it’s face was square and blocky. It’s wings were large and wide, but their tattered membrane seemed stretched and thin.

Overall, it was hard to see resemblance between this creature and their mighty, awe inspiring counterparts. And yet, one thing they both had in common, was their ability to summon fourth from their jaws an ever burning flame. It was this command of the inferno that even now, threatened to set the world to burn.

Freyja looked back up to the village. Her eyes wet with tears, reflected the dancing firelight. Orange, red and yellow hues flickered before her. Fires above, she thought, his really was the Season of Flame.