The Tale of Yao-Shu

The spiked nets dug deeper into Yao-Shu’s scales as she struggled against the chains, desperate to throw off her restraints. Her captors closed in around her, their torches burning brightly in the night. Beneath the flames, she could see their crooked smiles wide with repugnant excitement and the pointed spears they carried.

As they thrust their weapons at the dragon, Yao-Shu’s scales protected her coiled body beneath the net, but her exposed snout was pierced thrice. Yao-Shu’s blood dripped across her face as she pulled against the nets with all the strength she could muster, despite the excruciating pain of the spikes piercing her scales and tearing into her flesh.

***

Screaming as she awoke, Yao-Shu emerged from the lake. Panic coursed through her body as she frantically searched for the threat that wasn’t there. Her scars ached with a lingering shadow of the pain from years ago. Flashes of lightning illuminated the clouded sky allowing her to see the trees surrounding her home.

Floating in the water, she deepened her breathing, willing her heart to slow. As the storm within her calmed, so too did the storm above her. She watched the dark blankets pull back to reveal the soothing beauty of the heavens above. The earliest signs of dawn threatened to crack open and spill across the eastern mountain ridge.

Yao-Shu swam to shore, disappointed in yet another restless night. Water dripped from her deformed scales as she rose from the water. Her padded feet made no noise as she walked across the damp sand.

A deep inhale brought to her senses the sweet smell of the fir trees. But among the familiarity was the scent of danger that she had hoped to never encounter again. Yao-Shu smelled the flesh of man. She lowered into the lake so as to quickly disappear in the depths should the need arise. The scent was different from what she had experienced before. Her nostrils were not offended by the pungent odors of a hunting party. Whoever was there was alone.

With the utmost caution, Yao-Shu slowly swam to the far side of the lake. Her movements were faint and hardly made a ripple as she glided through the water. As she neared the shore, she caught a glimpse of a silhouette dart behind a fallen tree. Satisfaction swelled in her breast as she could hear its shallow breathing. This human was afraid of her and would be easy to conquer. Yet, something inexplicably made her hesitant. It would be best to strike quickly before any hesitation gave her enemy an advantage.

With lightning speed, Yao-Shu emerged from the lake and snaked across the shore to the log. She arched her neck and bore her teeth with a vicious war cry through which she could barely hear the terrified scream of a child.

Yao-Shu froze as she saw the frail-looking child as it lay in the mud, its eyes filled with terror. Tears had left streaks down its grime-covered face. Yao-Shu’s ferocity faded into curiosity. Why would one so young be left alone? She inhaled again. True to her first sense, the only thing out of the ordinary was the small child and the lingering stink of smoke that surrounded it.

Yao-Shu backed away from the child. There was no honor in striking one so small. The child had wandered away from its own kind and gotten lost, and would not survive long without a caretaker. She would allow the natural consequences to consume the child. Its death would be just and well-deserved. As she walked away, Yao-Shu thought she saw confusion in the child’s face.

Sunlight crept over the mountain, bathing the forest in its golden rays. The morning dew felt cool on Yao-Shu’s exposed skin as she snaked through the bushes and trees. Her movements became slower as she contemplated the child by the lake. There was a natural order that dictated the weakest creatures would perish. Nature would claim the child. There was nothing wrong with this. Yet, Yao-Shu could not scrub the look of horror from her mind.

She slowed to a halt as she arrived at the base of a cliff. She paced back and forth. If another animal found the child, then it would likely get shredded into many pieces; suffering a most violent death. She supposed she could go back and swiftly put the creature out of its misery, but the thought caused an empty pit to form inside her belly.

Yao-Shu was so distracted that she did not hear the rustling in the bushes behind her. She heard the snapping of a twig and whirled around to face what she had failed to sense sooner. Once more, she faced the child. Though still covered in grime, the fear in the child’s eyes was gone.

The child reached out to her, fingers extended. Yao-Shu instinctively backed away and tripped over a boulder. She couldn’t get to her feet before the child reached her. Yao-Shu was surprised, however, when the child wrapped its arms around her leg in an embrace.

Pity swelled in Yao-Shu’s bowels as she realized the child’s desperation and loneliness. She could not leave this child to the elements of nature, nor would she allow it to fall prey to another predator. She would return this child to its own kind.

***

The nearest human village wasn’t far from Yao-Shu’s lake. She believed she would be able to see the child there before sunset. However, she had underestimated how much the journey would be slowed due to the child’s companionship. It often got distracted by a large leaf or a jagged rock. When it would follow her, the child’s tiny legs were incapable of keeping her pace. In the space of an hour, they had traversed what she could have walked on her own in five minutes.

Yao-Shu turned around to find the child creeping up on a beautiful butterfly with wings of emerald. It reached out and clasped its hands together, but came up short as the butterfly flew to safety.

Rather than acting disappointed, the child laughed and chased after the butterfly. Yao-Shu quickly moved to intercept the child. They could not afford such distractions. She opened her maw and reached toward the child. She would simply catch the child in her mouth and place it upon her back, allowing her to travel at a reasonable pace. However, the child sprinted away screaming.

Yao-Shu watched as the child hid behind a tree. Agitation grew within her as she approached the tree. Why couldn’t the child realize that this was no time for games? She craned her neck around the tree to see the child crouched in a ball. Once more, she opened her mouth, but this time recognized the terror in the child’s scream as it ran away for the second time.

Yao-Shu paced back and forth, angry with herself for being so blind as to what was transpiring. Even more so, she was frustrated that she had tried something that idiotic to begin with. She looked up between the trees and could see the sun nearing its peak. If they were going to make it to the village, the child must ride on her back.

Slowly, Yao-Shu approached the tree where the child was hidden and layed down on her belly. The sun glistened off of her scales, coloring the dirt with a faint blue glow. Yao-Shu closed her eyes as she listened to the breeze gently rustling the leaves on their branches. She could feel the harshness of the sun’s rays bearing down on the skin exposed by the gaps in her scales.

After what felt like an eternity, she felt the light touch of a small hand on her side. She opened her eyes. The child was mesmerized by the sun reflecting off of her pale blue scales. It ran its hand across her side, feeling the various textures. It seemed to have a particular fascination by the scales that were crooked and bent. Yao-Shu clenched her muscles as the child felt the sensitive skin between the gaps.

The child placed its second hand on her, this time gripping her shoulder with what little strength it had. After a few stumbles, the child had successfully mounted Yao-Shu’s back. She rose to her feet, and they continued on their journey.

***

Yao-Shu’s patience wore thin as the child inched its way to her head where it reached for her remaining antler. When the child got too close, Yao-Shu would raise her neck, and the child would slide down her back. At first, it seemed that this solution was working quite well. However, she soon realized that the child found excitement in the slide and was not deterred from doing it over and over again. So, Yao-Shu allowed the child to climb up her back and take hold of the antler.

The child gently grasped the antler with one hand, and with the other, felt the stump where a second had once grown. However, once the child got more comfortable, it began to test just how attached the remaining antler was to Yao-Shu’s head. With each tug, the dragon had to force her mouth to remain closed so as not to growl or nip at the child.

Through the child’s giggles, she heard something rather peculiar: a faint gurgling emanating from the child’s belly. She realized just how hungry the child must have been. She had found him this morning before the sun had fully risen above the horizon, and it must have been away from its people for some time before that. Yao-Shu realized that she, too, was famished.

She came to a halt and lowered herself to the ground. The child seemed to know it was time to disembark and slid off of her back to the ground. The shock of the impact proved too much for the child’s small legs to handle, and it fell to the ground. However, with a small grunt, the child was back on its feet again.

Yao-Shu pondered what she could feed the child. She knew that humans ate meat, but had no idea what they preferred. As a hatchling, she herself had had an affinity for mice and other small rodents. However, she could not adequately hunt prey so small at the size she now was. It would expel more energy than it was worth, and, assuming she caught something, it would only feed the child. A larger animal would be easier to catch and would be able to provide sustenance for them both.

Yao-Shu successfully killed a deer and brought it back to the child before it had a chance to wander off. It felt good to be able to move without risk of the child falling from her.

The child stared at the deer carcass with wide eyes. Yao-Shu took a firm hold of the deer’s leg and briskly ripped it from the animal’s socket. She placed it before the child; it could eat however much it could while she ate the rest of the animal, then she would consume whatever it could not.

Yao-Shu had eaten three mouthfuls of the deer when she heard a regurgitative gurgling. She looked up to see that the child had vomited. After inspecting the leg, she discovered that the child hadn’t taken a single bite. Consuming the meat hadn’t made the child sick. She reasoned that if the child was sick, it may feel better once it had eaten something. So Yao-Shu nudged the deer leg closer to the child with her foot. However, the child seemed to grow paler. Then Yao-Shu remembered that humans liked to ruin their meat with fire.

She took hold of the carcass leg and moved it away from the child. Since it wouldn’t eat any of the deer, Yao-Shu ate the entire animal. As she chewed through the meat and bones, she contemplated what else it might eat. Perhaps it was akin to the bear, and would eat berries and honey.

Once she had finished her meal, Yao-Shu cleaned her talons by digging them into the earth and licked her chops clean. She glanced at the child and saw that it was fast asleep on the moss-covered ground. She could see just how raw the soles of its feet were, and felt a peculiar sadness.

Yao-Shu smelled the air and could detect no scent of another animal, but did notice a faint hint of smoke carried by the breeze. The child would be safe while she found food.

Locating berries was not difficult. They grew on several trees, and the small crimson fruits stood out against the green leaves. Finding honey, however, proved to be more difficult. Eventually, she found a beehive. Carrying honeycomb in her mouth and a batch of red berries in her paw, she made her way back to where the child was sleeping.

Yao-Shu placed the food on the ground and nudged the child awake with her snout. It took the child a moment to recognize the food laid out before it, but once it did, the child picked up a berry and took a bite. It scrunched up its face and pursed its lips, then took another tart bite. As the child ate the berries, their juices stained the child’s mouth. And when it tasted of the honey, the child attacked the honeycomb similarly to how a wolf devoured a kill. Yao-Shu was amused by what she was witnessing.

She then took notice of the sun’s position in the sky. Their stop for food had cost them more time than she had realized. However, it was still possible to arrive at the village before the sun would disappear completely.

Once the child was finished eating, it was more than willing to climb back onto Yao-Shu’s back. Before long, the little one was asleep. Yao-Shu continued onward as smoothly as she could so as not to wake the child. Despite the caution, she was still satisfied by how quickly they were moving.

That’s when she smelled the smoke. She halted all movement to take in all the scents of the forest. Among the freshness of the plantlife, she once more detected the searing scent of embers. With the child still asleep, Yao-Shu slowly snaked along the forest floor and came to a short cliff overlooking a clearing. Walking through it was a tiger many creatures knew to fear. Shao Shi shimmered with the glow of a thousand embers as it made its way across the clearing. With each step he took, he left the mark of his paw scorched in the earth. The grass he passed withered and blackened as he passed, leaving a slight haze of smoke resting over the smoldering field.

Yao-Shu moved stealthily away from the cliff’s edge, but had she remained a moment longer, she would have seen Shao Shi look directly at her and the child.

***

The sun had nearly disappeared below the horizon as Yao-Shu and the child neared the village. Ahead, she could see smoke rising to the clouds above. Humans were known to erect large bonfires for the purposes of celebration, warmth, and to ward off predators. Of course, Yao-Shu knew that sometimes creatures didn’t fear flames. On those occasions, the humans made use of their nets.

As they neared, the scent of the smoke intensified. Ash covered the ground and greenery as if it were a snowy day. Several trees were blackened around the base of their trunks, and as they drew closer to the village, the trees were burned completely. At last, they arrived at the remnants of the village.

Ash drifted to the ground from the charred skeletal frames of the large, public buildings. Smoke filled the air, spilling further into the woods. Among the smoking debris, burned corpses could be seen underneath a warm ashen blanket.

On her back, Yao-Shu could feel the child burrowing into her neck. Small droplets of water dripped onto her scales. Yao-Shu turned her neck to look at the child. Through its tear-filled eyes, she could see the swirling pool of grief and pain that filled the little one’s heart. The pity that Yao-Shu had once held for the child melted away in her heart, leaving only sadness. The hunters had received their rewards for their cruelty, but the judgment had left the child without a guardian. It would die without the nourishing care from its own kind. The child did not deserve such a lonesome fate.

Yao-Shu found herself wishing that she could do something to relieve the child’s agony. But what was done was set in stone. There was no way to recall the flames that brought such destruction. She could not dam the river and reverse the flow of time. All she could do was continue forward.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. With every breath, she focused her spirit. She felt it rise with the smoke above the trees, stretching to the heavens above. It entwined itself with the clouds and pulled at all the moisture in the air. Yao-Shu could feel the clouds grow heavier as more and more water began to take shape and form above the earth. She willed the cloud to surrender the rain that it had stored away.

A drop of water collided with the ash-covered earth, causing a slight sizzle. It was followed by another, and another. Yao-Shu opened her eyes to witness the sprinkling of rain as it slowly evolved to a calm shower. The rain initially caused more smoke to rise, but the downpour of water quickly cooled the hot coals and cleared the air.

Yao-Shu turned away from the village. There was no good that could be done by staying any longer. As she started, she heard a clinking of metal beneath her feet. She looked down to see a twisted, familiar net of chain-links and spikes. Melted into the net was an imprint of the padded sole of a tiger’s foot.

***

Blood seeped from beneath Yao-Shu’s scales as the force of her struggle against the net tore scales from her flesh. The humans kept their distance; a distance that they closed with the long reach of their harpoons. Yao-Shu was becoming more exposed as the net removed more of her scales. Her fury fueled her desperation as the links that made up her entrapment strained. A burly man stepped forward, brandishing a large ax. The man raised his blade and let it fall upon Yao-Shu. One of her antlers fell to the earth as she screamed in agonizing pain.

The burly hunter raised his ax in one hand and Yao-Shu’s antler in the other. His comrades cheered his achievement with sickening laughter. Her skull throbbed with the pain from the loss of her antler. She looked upon her over-confident attackers with rage that fired through every fiber of her being, and with more strength than she had ever known, burst the links covering her.

The hunters ran as Yao-Shu tore free from the spiked net. The burly man lumbered away, still clutching the antler. Her vision blurred as she closed the distance between in a fraction of a moment and coiled her body around his. She could feel his bones crack as she tightened her hold. He gasped for breath, but could not take in any air. Yao-Shu felt disgusted by this pathetic creature that had claimed her antler only moments before. There was no grandeur in extracting an appendage of a confined animal. No longer did his spirit exude pompous arrogance, but was full of terror as Yao-Shu widened her jaws and clamped them down on his throat.

***

Yao-Shu awoke to the rumblings of thunder. She rose to her feet and walked around in circles in an attempt to calm herself. As her heart slowed, the thunder receded.

Yao-Shu ceased her pacing. She looked upon the sleeping child and felt sadness swell within her breast. The child lay curled in a ball. Still damp from the rainfall at the village, it shivered violently in the cold of the night.

Yao-Shu contemplated what she could do to ease the child’s suffering. She had kin to the west with fire in their bellies; a gift she would have given anything to have in this moment. But even if Yao-Shu could summon fire, she could not care for the child long-term. It needed the care of a guardian that understood it. Shao Shi was a thorough hunter. It was a miracle that the child had managed to escape the fury of the tiger. It was unlikely that anyone else in the village had been so fortunate.

As she contemplated the future of the child, the evening breeze brought forth the faintest hint of a melody to Yao-Shu’s ears. She strained to hear the music again, but all was silent. She began to wonder if it was just the wind whistling as it passed between branches. Then she heard it again. Having been prepared to hear it this time, Yao-Shu was able to determine from which direction the music had come.

The child remained curled on the ground in its shaky slumber and gave no indication that it had heard the music. Yao-Shu nudged the child in an attempt to wake it, but it did not respond. Gently, Yao-Shu grasped the child in her maw, hoisted it from the ground, and placed it on her back. Once she ensured that the child was secure, Yao-Shu started off in the direction of the music.

Yao-Shu stayed low as she followed the sounds. The music gradually became more clear, and she was able to see a glow flickering through the trees.

Her search had brought Yao-Shu to the top of a ridge. The other side sloped down gradually until it evened out with the ground at the base. At the bottom, a small fire illuminated a small cart containing wrapped bundles and parcels. Sitting by the fire were a man playing the flute and a woman, who listened blissfully to the graceful melody.

Yao-Shu felt a flood of relief. She began to slowly descend the hill, then stopped. Leaning against the cart was a spear. Yao-Shu felt the aches of her scars as memories of her attack flooded her mind, and her heart raced. She had not yet been seen, which would allow for her to safely retreat back into the forest. As she took a few steps back up the hill, Yao-Shu felt the still-sleeping child begin to slide from her back. She quickly whirled her head around to steady it with her snout. The child was cold to the touch, and Yao-Shu was now aware of just how faint the child’s breathing had become.

Yao-Shu slowly continued down the hill. As she grew closer to the small camp, her heart felt as though it would burst from her chest. The woman was the first to notice Yao-Shu. The man dropped his instrument and quickly took up his weapon. Yao-Shu willed herself to continue her approach, despite the shaking in her legs.

The man positioned himself between the woman and Yao-Shu. Yao-Shu saw fear and determination in the man’s eyes. She turned and lay on the ground. The woman saw the small child astride the dragon’s back. Despite the man’s protests, she cautiously approached Yao-Shu. The man eased slightly as the woman removed the child from Yao-Shu’s back, and slowly backed away.

Yao-Shu rose from the ground and held the woman’s gaze. A silent understanding passed between them. Yao-Shu glanced at the child for one last time and departed.

***

Yao-Shu circled around a clearing that housed a small village surrounded by farmland. She always took care not to be seen when she visited. Her eyes scanned the adults hard at work, harvesting their crop, and the children playing together near the homes. Then she spotted the child. It had grown in the months that had passed since she surrendered her guardianship, though she was still unable to determine its sex. Despite accomplishing her quest to return the child to its own kind, worry still occupied Yao-Shu’s thoughts. But with each visit, she found the child was not only healthy, but happy also. She watched as the child’s new mother came and scooped it up. The child cheered gleefully in the woman’s embrace. Yao-Shu felt gratitude towards the woman she had found. She seemed to have taken the child as if one of her own.

Having witnessed all that she came to see, Yao-Shu retreated further into the woods. She made her way to a cliffside where a waterfall fed the river. She had found this place during her third visit to the village. It was here that she would rest while away from her lake. She hunted a deer as the sun lowered in the sky, and had filled her belly by the time it had set.

Yao-Shu crawled into the water just below where the waterfall ended. The drumming in the water soothed her until she drifted to sleep.

***

Yao-Shu limped away from the carnage of her attackers. Her scales dangled painfully, feeling as though they would tear free with the impact of every step. When she arrived at her lake, Yao-Shu saw herself reflected on the water’s surface. She was able to assess the damage of the attack, but felt horrified by her bloodied chops. Her attackers were fleeing when she killed them. There was no need to have shed so much blood. She had become what they had feared her to be: a blood-thirsty monster.

***

Yao-Shu emerged from the base of the waterfall, breathing hard. She climbed out of the river. She began her calming routines of deep inhalations. As she did, she detected the scent of smoke. Still feeling the emotions of the dream, Yao-Shu panicked and sprinted toward the village. She moved so quickly that it felt as though her feet might leave the ground.

When Yao-Shu arrived at the village, she found the fields ablaze. The tiger, Shao Shi, swatted away a spear and clenched his jaws around the head of the man who wielded it. He cast the body aside as he had already done with several others, and continued his advance on the town. The villagers fled before the fiery beast; among them was the child and its adoptive mother.

Yao-Shu sprinted across the field, catching Shao Shi by surprise. She dug her talons into the tiger and hurled him away from the villagers. Yao-Shu turned to see the people behind her, mostly women and children. She made eye contact with the child whom she had once carried on her back and saw the recognition dawn in its eyes. A snarl from across the field commanded her attention.

Shao Shi had risen to his feet, and stared down Yao-Shu as she stood between him and his prey. The tiger’s eyes glowed in the darkness. His patchy fur shimmered like smoldering coals. His body was covered in grotesque scars that reflected those across Yao-Shu’s body. Seeing Shao Shi up close, Yao-Shu realized just how much pain her scales had spared her from the spiked, iron nets. Yao-Shu could feel the hate that fueled Shao Shi’s rage, and her bowels filled with pity. The tiger pounced, taking her to the ground.

The villagers backed away as the two beasts rolled on the ground. Shao-Shi found the gaps within Yao-Shu’s scales and sunk his claws into her flesh. Lightning flashed across the sky as Yao-Shu screamed in pain. She writhed on the ground, attempting to pull Shao Shi away from the village, as well as break from his hold. The tiger dug in deeper. She could feel her flesh tear as he separated more scales from her body. She could feel more of the tiger’s scorching heat as her armor grew more compromised.

Yao-Shu rose on her hind legs, and, letting her weight carry her backwards, crushed Shao Shi against a boulder jutting from the earth. Yao-Shu began to coil her long body around the tiger. As she did, Shao Shi slashed his claws across Yao-Shu’s belly. Despite the pain of her new wounds, she continued to wind herself around the tiger. Shao Shi growled as Yao-Shu squeezed tighter. She could feel the tiger’s heat burning her flesh beneath her scales.

As Shao Shi struggled against her, Yao-Shu could feel her strength leaving her body as more and more of her blood spilled from her belly. She closed her eyes and pleaded with the clouds above. A drop of water fell on her nose, then another. More and more droplets of water fell from the sky; they steamed as they splashed against Shao Shi’s body. The drizzle quickly became a downpour.

Yao-Shu could feel Shao Shi’s heat diminishing beneath the onslaught of rain. As it did, his struggling lessened. Yao-Shu opened her jaws and, with sadness, sank her teeth into Shao Shi’s throat.

Yao-Shu unwound from Shao Shi’s lifeless body. She rose to her feet, but her legs collapsed beneath her weight. A small, familiar hand touched her side. Yao-Shu turned her head to see the child climb on top of her. Warmth flooded her heart as she watched the child settle onto her back. It looked at her expectantly. To her side, Yao-Shu saw the child’s mother.

Yao-Shu gently took the child in her maw. Her muscles ached as she hoisted the child from her back and placed it before the woman. The child looked up at her, then back to Yao-Shu. Tears of understanding filled its eyes, and it rushed forward to embrace Yao-Shu. The dragon closed her eyes and accepted the embrace as all her pain and anguish melted away, and the energy seeped from her bones. The child was safe.

Her eyes closed gently, and Yao-Shu fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.