The Dragon Dilemma

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Tell that to the winged lizard chasing me through the valley forests. It was not a dragon, per se, but it was kin to a dragon. One of the older men, whose dead now, called it a wyvern. Apparently, it is akin to a dragon, like a second cousin or something. Honestly, I could not give a shit if it’s kin to a copper pot. It can kill efficiently, and it’s currently chasing me through a densely wooded forest.

It’s my eighteenth naming day, and to cap off the celebration, a wyvern showed up and killed half the party. We’re a simple forest people, so what could we offer a flying demon that has fangs, claws, and a giant stinger for a tail? Well, I guess an abundance of living flesh. I don’t know how they work, or what they’re after, but it really put a damper on my “supposed” special day. Now, I’m running for my life with only what’s on my back, through a heavily forested wood the likes of which I’ve never fully explored.

What’s on my back you ask? Quite a simple question to answer really: I’m wearing deerskin trousers, or pants as you may call them depending on where you call home. My people work with game skins primarily, so I have a deerskin vest with bone buttons and some colored bone beads worked along the shoulders and lapels. I wear boarskin moccasins as footwear, but that’s mainly because the boar’s skin is more durable and lasts longer than deer although deer is more comfortable for ambling about. I have a thick leather belt made of buffalo hide, with many options to tie and secure leather pouches. We honestly make leather of about anything that can be tanned, and I have over five pouches tied to my waistband. I won’t go into what’s in those, but they typically store things I need for day-to-day chores that I must satisfy before my time is my own.

My time is definitively my own now, and I wish for it to continue. The sounds of running water become apparent as I leap over a rotten log in my sprint to limited safety. I begin to angle myself in its direction as the winged monster peels off towards what I assume is an effort to reestablish its tracking. I take two seconds near the stream; I need to catch my breath and grab a couple of handfuls of water. I then take two deep breaths and follow the stream down. As I leap and shuffle through the roots and leafy embankments the sound of the water increases as its flow deepens. I stop a few feet before I see the source of the sound of rushing water: a waterfall. The forested expanse envelopes the vast valley before me and the wyvern has anticipated this outcome. I take a few steps forward in defiance and stare the leathery beast down while I edge my toes to the waterfalls forming below. As I raise my fist in spite, I take two steps back and leap forth into the rapids churning below.

Have you ever resigned to die? I did in that moment, and it was liberating. I didn’t let some unearthly beast decide when I would leave this world but made the choice on my own terms. Despite this, I actually survived. I didn’t flop into the waters as I descended, but gracefully dove without intention. No rocks met my dive, and I became immediately aware of my survival while under the surface of the churning suds. Rather than surface immediately, I fish-swam farther down the stream and tried to camouflage my surfacing behind a shored limb. As I did so, I saw the wyvern still eyeing the waters near the falls and knew I was still on limited time with no idea as to when the sun would set.