Sweet

It would probably just get stuck between my teeth. The thing is all bones.

Tradimento flexed his wings as he stared down at the quivering human child. He’d just had a pleasant leisurely flight over the vast forest area that he lorded over, only to have his evening spoiled by this human. It hadn’t tried to run when he’d arrived back to his cave, merely mewled pathetically. He guessed that because of the child’s missing foot, the deformity probably why its people had tossed it in front of his home.

Audacious—too much so.— Tradimento was the sole dragon of the vast forest of Antica after all, his scales thicker than the jewel tones they reflected, his wings swallowing the sky when spread. No other dragon dared fly over the mountains that towered higher than any cloud could reach on the border of his woods. He’d earned his reputation that stretched further than the sun’s light, that kept all others away from his cave throne, seated in the center of his forest vale. How dare humans approach where no other dragon would.

He permitted humans to live in his realm solely for his entertainment. Many of the locals left him sacrifices, such as this one, outside their villages. He found their pathetic attempts at making deals to be a source of amusement. The only time humans came here, however, was with doomed crusades to kill him. Yet appeasement or assault, neither would stop him from raiding their villages when he was hungry.

Was this child some sort of bait?

“What is your name, human?” Tradimento asked. He let his voice roll from deep in his chest, to carry to any possibly listening ears.

“I have none,” it stuttered. “My parents di-din’t think I de-deserved one.” Its voice small, even for a human. If the child felt anything shame at nameless, Tradimento couldn’t tell. All he could smell was the fear pouring off the child in waves every time he swished his tail or twitched a wing. Frankly, it was ruining the spring air, erasing the scent of the surrounding beeches and the coppery tang of Tradimento’s treasure trove inside his cave. It also buried any other nearby human stench. Were the humans relying on that?

Clever.

Tradimento almost felt sorry for the child. Almost. But he was certain it was bait—likely poisoned or diseased. He didn’t care either way.

It continued muttering, something about a nickname.

“I will not eat you,” Tradimento cut off the child, not bothering to listen to what it said. He still spoke clearly, for any others lurking nearby. He was not in the mood right now for their antics. Perhaps after a nap, he would visit whichever village had schemed this up to send a message. Yet he heard no sounds aside from distant bird song and rustle of small animals rifling through the brush. Nonetheless, these humans were not dumb enough to attack him head on; they would know how to stay quiet.

The child stopped its mewling, its fear abating enough for a whiff of the beech trees to return. The perfect symphony created from the forest animals and rustling treetops carried by the gentle breeze unsullied by the out-of-tune whimpering.

“Go home, before I kill you for the fun of it. Tell your people their plan failed.” Without a second glance, he stepped over the small being to enter his cave. Briefly the fear-scent spiked, but as Tradimento made his way deeper into his home, it disappeared, along with all thoughts of humans.

~*~

His nap passed undisturbed by any assault, so Tradimento was surprised to find the human child still huddled in front of his cave. It had somehow built a small hut for itself out of large leaves and branches. Underneath, he could see its small form curled in a ball, and heard slow, light breathing. It was night now. He knew humans slept through the dark, their eyesight too weak to accomplish much. Tradimento slept only in short increments during the summer; he got enough sleep during winter. In the fall, he raided the humans as frequently as he could, preparing for lean winter months. Every year, the humans would build new contraptions to try and stop this, and he had to admit those small beings could be quite clever with their hands. The child was no different.

In just a few hours, it had built a rather sturdy looking shelter. But not sturdy enough to stop a dragon.

With a huff, Tradimento blew the whole thing down. The child awoke with a shriek, pure terror on its face. He enjoyed that expression on humans.

Awake, its fear once more stank up his entryway although the child quieted instatly, left ashen-faced in the moonlight.

“What are you still doing here?” he growled.

“W-well, I figured it was the safest place. No bears or nothing would dare come near a dragon cave.” He’d forgotten how soft this child’s voice was. Usually, humans wailed in rage or panic at his presence. This one seemed smarter than many of those ones. Small and frail, dressed in rags with matted hair that made it look as if it only ever slept outside, it must have survived this long by being smarter.

“Safer, even, if you had gone back to your village,” he purred, pouring as much menace as possible into his words. “I am much more dangerous than any bear, and I warned you to leave before I changed my mind about killing you.”

The lack of reaction from the child annoyed him enormously. Instead of quaking until dust rose from the dirt, it froze up, fear-scent shifting to one of simple sadness.

“They told me they’d kill me if I came back.” It shifted to cover their missing foot with a hand. “My family told me I’m naught but a burden, that I’d be the death of them. I figured my odds were better with you.”

Tradimento stared at the child a moment; it had no way of knowing that those words echoed ones from his own past. Words from his own family.

“And what village are you from?”

“A small one, just north of here. Turgurio. Most everyone there is a woodsman: logger or hunter. I could do neither.”

Tradimento looked to the night sky, contemplating how to proceed. Millions of stars blazed in the black veil, and just as many options for him. The small human beside him could probably see only half as many lights: poorer eyesight an apt comparison to a poorer lot in life next to his own.

“Go sleep inside,” he said finally, not taking his eyes off the sky. “But no further than the entry chamber.”

Without waiting to see how the child reacted, he took off to get a closer look at those options nestled in the sky.

~*~

Tradimento spotted no signs of a raiding party when he visited the closest village to the north— nor at any of the others nearby. But he did find plenty of food.

He made a few passes over the hamlet the child ahiled from, saw humans scurrying beneath like ants. It would be a simple matter to burn them all to ash, but a much more devious plan arose in his mind.

Life had been boring of late, no rumors of treasure to steal or kings to slay—how else was a dragon to spread his fame and deter others? He needed a little spice in his life, something to remind the world he still ruled this forest. So, on his return journey, he snagged a sheep out of a field for the human.

Night had neared its end when he returned, but the child remained awake, looking as though it hadn’t slept, looking out from the entry chamber.

“Did you kill them?” It bolted right to Tradimento, fear-scent lingered in the air. Interesting. The child had been frightened before he returned.

Worried?

Could the child have been worried? About what? The family who had tossed it aside?

“Is that what you wish? For them to die?”

The child was silent a moment. “I don’t know.”

“Eat.” He deposited the sheep at the child’s feet, the two were nearly the same size. “I hope you know how to prepare yourself something from that.”

Tradimento swept past the child, heading into his cave, when it spoke up again. “Why are you doing this?”

He paused but did not look back. “Food,” he said, “eat up.” Without another word, he entered the depths of his home for a well-deserved nap.

~*~

The child passed his test.

With no help from him and armed only with a small knife it must’ve brought, it managed to skin and prepare the sheep. A pitiful but sufficient fire was cooking some of the meat, the smoke a mouthwatering trail for Tradimento to follow from the bowels of his home. The child had found the rock salt Tradimento knew lined one edge of his cave, properly salting several cuts from the animal. It was also clear the child had attempted to salvage the pelt, but the clouds of wool tufts floating about his entryway gave away how that had fared.

He snorted, smoke curling from his nostrils. This human might manage to stay his boredom after all, before serving his other goal.

But he suspected he’d need to collect clothes from the next humans he ate.

~*~

The child survived that winter, and the next few. Soon, it had matured to what the humans considered adolescence, having put on a surprising amount of mass, muscle, and fat too. Just as Tradimento had intended.

After the first winter, the human had begun to refer to him as uncle, which he tolerated but was not fond of. The human carved a small wooden foot to attach to its ankle to replace what was lost, allowing it to become an excellent fighter and even better hunter as well. Having grown rather plump in recent years, it had taken to banditry in the hopes of collecting better equipment than it could craft out here, but it avoided the northern villages.

After a particular successful raid of a traveling arms dealer who hadn’t hired enough protection, his little human returned with new armor and pointy weapons the dragon never bothered to remember the names of. Campfire light reflected off the pile near the human’s bedroll.

“Why can’t I come in further?” it asked.

An argument they often had. He’d never allowed the human to venture further than the entry chamber.

“Because I said so.” Because humans didn’t belong inside a home.

“But I could set the new shiny armor and weapons next to your treasure. Don’t you think they’d make fine additions?”

Indeed, they would. He eyed the human’s loot. He’d never taken anything, however, that it had won for itself. Tradimento needed it happy and healthy.

“No,” he said. “Are you not grateful for the being allowed in the entryway?”

“Yes, but it’s still cold—”

“And it would be even colder in the wind.”

It huffed, followed by a long silence before the next question.

“Uncle, what happened to the rest of your family?”

Tradimento considered the human. It was always so full of questions, but this was a new one and Tradimento wasn’t sure how much of it to answer.

“Betrayal. They told me I would be the death of them. Cast me out soon after.”

The human stared at him, the old, familiar scent of sadness suggestest it was thinking of its family.

“Like me.”

Tradimento let that hang in between them. “You are almost ready. Next winter.”

“You’ll take me to my old village? Help me raze it?” Excitement, and a hint of the old fear-scent.

He said nothing, only gave what the human considered a smile.

~*~

The next winter came: a harsh one. Snow high enough to reach the human’s knees lay heavy on the ground and frost coated the bare trees; they appeared like diamond veins shooting into the sky. A wind so cold even Tradimento felt its bite through his scales, no sound nor smell of forest life. Yet his human remained as plump as ever, well fed in no small part thanks to Tradimento.

But it was time now. He had visited the human’s old village last night, deciding today would be the day.

“Come,” he called to the human from outside his doorway. It was still bundling into furs heavy enough to survive the chill riding on his back. This would be the first—and only—time he would allow a human to mount him. It was a short enough flight to the old village, and the reward would be worth it.

The human waded through the snow to his side, hobbling a little more unsteadily on the artificial foot. Swiftly, it scaled his leg and found a comfortable seat between his wings.

“Hold on tightly.” He felt the human grip his neck before he shot into the sky, headed north.

~*~

He heard his human’s confused cries before they even touched down.

“What happened?” It slid from his back to make its way a few feet in front of him while surveying what lay before it.

The village lay in ruin, every house’s roof rent open, some half collapsed and still smoldering.

“I ate them,” Tradimento answered.

The human whirled to face him, horror and rage-scent leaking through its thick furs to mingle with the smell of ash.

“Why?” its voice trembled with barely contained emotion. “What about my revenge? I thought it would be for both of us…. After your family betrayed you—”

“You misunderstood me,” he interrupted. “My family said I would be the death of them, and I was.”

“You—you killed your own family?” The human’s legs began quaking uncontrollably.

“Most of them, yes. They could not learn to stay out of my way, kept trying to control me.” He let out a huff of smoke at the memories, but felt nothing except satisfaction regarding their deaths. “It was a fine message for the rest of dragonkind.”

The human’s slack face of the barely moved. “Message?”

“To stay away. That those who get close suffer worse than death before the end.”

“So, the destruction of my village a message?” For whom, Uncle? For me?” It was clearly struggling to maintain any composure.

“You? No, the only purpose a human serves is entertainment. And food.”

What he recognized to be understanding washed across the human’s small face. “You raised me like a….”

“A fattened cow? To send another message? Yes. To remind the world who Tradimento the Betrayer is.” He flicked his tail towards the remains of the nearest hut. Two heads could be seen peeking from around the rubble. Fear scent hung rank in the air, now mixed with surprise. His human followed his gesture and saw the others of his kind. All three faces appeared even more stricken, which Tradimento hadn’t thought possible, but was overjoyed to see.

“You recognize each other? Your fear smells so similar it was hard for me not to make the connection.”

“…Mama? Papa?” The human’s legs finally gave out and it fell to its knees.

The other two remained speechless, disgust and horror obvious.

“The perfect ones to bear this message, and now I think the time has come to send it.”

His human didn’t run—didn’t flinch—merely turned to face him one final time, tears streaming rivers that froze before reaching the ground. Tradimento snatched it up in one bite, savoring the sweet, sweet, delicious flavor as the parents screamed.

They would never forget the consequences of invading his home, a story for the humans to pass down for generations, and possible reach the ears of other dragons. One that would hopefully deter them from ever approaching his cave again.

They should all fear Tradimento the Betrayer.