The Way of Things

Drae watched the thing for longer than he should have. The long shafts of sunlight cut through the trees like slices of fire. It would be dark soon, and his mother would expect him home. He was supposed to be practicing. But he didn’t want to stop watching the pink thing wandering around the glade.

It was unsteady on its two stubby legs, wrapped in furs to keep its bare flesh warm. It made a sound from time to time like a gurgling, like the sound deep mud made when Drae pulled his paws from it. The creature had stayed in the clearing for a while, slowly making its way around the berry bushes that were there. Its face was smeared with purple and black as it smushed the ripe berries into its mouth. Drae was fascinated but he hadn’t seen another one in a while. He was sure it was a human. It matched almost every story he’d ever heard of them. Pink, two legs and ungainly. Though it was harmless and didn’t seem bloodthirsty or calculating. It didn’t seem to be any danger except to vegetation.

Drae snorted in laughter at his own thought, two puffs of acrid smoke billowed from his nostrils. He watched the grey dust dissipate into the air. It was the closest he’d come to having his own fire. At two summers old, he was the youngest of his clutch, and the only of his siblings that hadn’t yet found his flame. He snorted again, trying to replicate the action, but nothing came. The gust he made only made the branches of the bush he was hiding in billow and flail.

“Ba-ah?” The human pushed a branch away from Drae. “Aah!” A wet, purple-tinged grin spread across the human’s face. It reached sticky hands out toward Drae.

Drae reared back on to his hind legs to avoid letting the goop mark the iridescence of his green scales. Stood up like this, the human only came to his tummy. He had thought they were bigger, more the size of a five-summer dragon, but obviously the stories were exaggerated. He grimaced as the possibility of the bedtime stories his mother told being lies rankled.

The human opened its eyes wide, the grin gone. Drae noticed its eyes were the same colour as his scales nearly. More like the green of new spring leaves, rather than the deep green only found in the heart of the forest, but similar none the less. Indecision and worry clouded over the human’s puffy face as it stared up at Drae. It took a step back, its foot tangling on a root. It plunked down on its rear. For a moment there was silence. Then it opened its maw and let out a wail like a dying stag.

Drae raced away to the nearest thick tree. He dug his long claws into the bark and scuttled up into the branches. He didn’t want to be seen by any other humans who might hear this one’s calls. The thick foliage of the summer canopy hid him from a casual glance, but he couldn’t yet hide completely. As he grew, his body would lose the roundness of a hatchling and one day he’d become lithe, his scales would darken to a rich brown, and he’d become indistinguishable from the branches. For now, he was only safe if he stayed motionless. He watched it from behind a tree limb.

The forest quietened as the high-pitched yells lengthened out, raising and lowering like birdsong. In the trees, the birds stopped their movement and calls, deciding if the noise was any threat. The human quieted down, aware its cries hadn’t been answered. The noise tapered off to nothing, only a few grunts and hiccups. The human opened its eyes. From his vantage point, Drae could see it clumsily swing its head around, searching for him. It rolled to its front and pushed itself to its feet again. It seemed to have all the grace of a new hatchling. Drae lifted his head to get a better view.

The motion brought the attention of the human again. It looked upward, directly at him, and again that grin curled on its face. It spread out its two arms, fingers splayed out. It let out another high yell, but this time this one was trailed by giggles.

Intrigued, Drae slithered down the bark, back to the soft forest floor. He crouched low, the pale scales of his belly scraped over the moss and leaves.

“Bah ah-bah?” The human stepped forward to place its sticky paws on Drae’s snout. It smelled of the berries, and of something subtler. Like freshly dug earth, rich with life and promise. Drae chuffed against its hand, making it giggle again.

The shadows were folding themselves together between the trees, the sun was disappearing fast. Drae’s home wasn’t too far from this glade, but he’d be hard pressed to get back before full nightfall. He hesitated a moment about what to do with the human. It seemed helpless. A wolf would likely find it and devour it. Drae swallowed. He liked the weird-smelling thing.

Behind the human, a stick cracked. Something was out there, waiting for him to leave the simple creature alone. In a second, his mind was made up. He circled behind the human and lowered his head, shoving his snub muzzle against the backs of the human’s legs. It lifted one leg high enough that he was able to push it on to his neck. It sat heavily on his shoulder blades, warming his scales. He flicked his ears playfully. The human, excited for this new play thing, grasped them firmly and let out another squeal.

With great care at first, Drae moved through the underbrush. He stayed low and allowed the human find its balance on his back. A few times it yanked on Drae’s ears painfully, but it seemed to understand what he wanted it to do. Gradually, Drae built up speed, trotting along paths only he knew through the trees. The human only slid off its perch twice. It squeezed its legs against Drae’s shoulders, and when he leapt slightly into the air, the human threw its arms around Drae’s neck and gripped tightly. The giggles pierced the dusk air as they approached the cave that Drae’s mother turned into a home.

The cavern was in a rent between two rocks in the side of the mountains. The first passage tilted upwards, so when it rained there was no way of the water running inside. The human quieted as they entered the rough grey walkway. It was wide enough that Drae could go sideways, stretch out his muzzle and his tail, and just brush either wall with the tips of each. But his mother could only just squeeze between the towering granite. She had often told her clutch that they’d be the last she’d have in this home. Her next lair would need to be somewhere she could fit through the entranceway. She was nearing her hundredth summer, and as she was still growing into her prime, the need to find a bigger nesting cave was getting urgent. The walls showed scrapes where her scales had dragged the length of the corridor, gouging furrows as she’d come and gone while hunting.

The ground was made up of gravel, broken chips of the stone from Drae’s mother passing. The sounds of his family ricocheted down the slope. From the growls, Drae could guess that at least two of his siblings were play fighting. The air was getting warmer and the sounds of a fire crackling let Drae know that his mother had been successful and was currently tending to their supper. He shifted the human from his back, and put it between him and the wall, careful to hide it with his body from any casual glances. Creeping into the space, he kept close to the wall. If he could get to their nest, he could hide the human among the soft, dry grass which the five hatchlings slept in.

Drae’s mother, Gwraidd sat on her haunches over a pool of glowing coals. A whole boar lay on a flat rock balanced above. Every so often, Gwraidd would bend to let out a controlled stream of fire over the coals from her mouth. The boar’s flesh was tight and golden brown, the fats ran off the slab into the heat of the flames beneath. Drae’s eldest sister, Faedd, sat nearby, watching as their mother prepared the feast. She licked her lips. Further away, and making all of the noise, the other three pushed each other and rolled together across the dry dirt floor.

“Draenog. Why are you late?” His mother’s voice rumbled through the air. The firm tone even stopped Aderyn, Hydd, and Brochod from their wrestling. They swung their heads to their mother, and then followed her dark gaze to look to their youngest brother.

Drae slowly lifted his head to meet his mother’s glittering eyes. Her scales were the deep brown of fertile soil, but they caught the firelight in ways that rippled across her mighty body. There was plenty of room for her to move in circles in here, but when she lifted her neck up to peer at them as she did now, she had to be careful not to scrape the points of her horns across the ceiling and rain jagged shards of stone down on her clutch.

“Sorry, mother. I wandered further than I thought and lost track of time.” Drae crouched his neck in apology. Gwraidd stooped her head downwards, her massive eyes flicked across him, searching for any answer that her son might give away on his body rather than in his words.

“What do you smell of?” She breathed in, her chest expanded with the rush of air.

“Bah-bee!” The human announced.

For a moment everything was still and silent.

With a snort of disgust, Gwraidd drew backwards. At the same time, Aderyn, Hydd, and Brochod leaped forwards in excitement and curiosity. Their motion caused Gwraidd to reach out and drag them back towards her. She swiped her tail around to create a barrier between her children and the creature.

“Draenog, why is there a human child in my lair?” She roared.

“It’s a child?” Drae tilted his head toward the small pink thing. It cooed it him, unconcerned with the fear and anger of a full-grown dragon behind its new friend.

“Yes! Where in the wilds did you get it from?” Gwraidd spoke over the questions of her other children, who were clambering over her limbs to get to the new thing that Drae had brought home.

“I found it in the woods. It was alone, I checked! So, I thought I might keep it as a pet?” Drae blinked appealingly to his mother.

“Absolutely not! Those things are dangerous, Drae. How could you be so reckless?”

“It doesn’t look dangerous, mam.” Aderyn said as she escaped the hold of her mother and bounced across to Drae. Worried for his sister’s actions, Drae watched her carefully. She creeped around Drae to peer at the child. It giggled at the appearance of Aderyn’s long yellowish green snout peaking around Drae’s body. “It looks quite squishy.”

“It’s a hatchling. They get worse as they get older.”

“I dunno,” Hydd said, coming around from Drae’s tail. “Even hatchlings have teeth and spikes, mam. This looks more like a baby bird. Is it supposed to be so pink?”

“They grow older and learn to use sticks and sharp metal to go around destroying everything. I didn’t even know there was any nearby. Humans haven’t been anywhere near these woods in decades.”

“Could it be a fae, mam?” Faedd had used the distraction to swipe a chunk of the roast. She sat behind Gwraidd’s tail on her haunches as she delicately tore into the cooked flesh, the oil running down her paws and forearms. The smell made Drae’s stomach grumble with hunger.

“No, no. Fae know not to take the form of a human here. Any normal and self-respecting dragon who found a fae shaped like a man would kill it on sight.” Gwraidd eyed her youngest son with a hard glare.

“So can we eat it?” Brochod snarled, running straight for Drae to shove at him. As the eldest, Brochod was also the biggest, and he used it to bully the others. Drae normally stayed out of his way, but the glimmer in Brochod’s eye made Drae grip the soft floor with his sharp claws and stand his ground. He growled at his eldest brother, showing him the rows of sharp teeth. Not expecting the display, Brochod drew up sharp in his gallop and skidded to a stop before he got to Drae.

“They aren’t good to eat. They are a magical lodestone. If you eat their flesh it will make you weak and sick. Dragons who have made prey of humans have been known to even lose their fire.” Gwraidd warned. All four of the others drew back from the human.

“I want to keep it.” Drae repeated, stamping his paw on the ground.

“I said no, Drae. It’s not safe. And it seems too young to be without its family.”

“Should we kill it anyway then? If it’s only going to get more dangerous as it grows, it’d be better to kill it now.” Brochod said, the hint of menace in his voice. Drae snarled again at his brother.

“That’s enough, both of you.” Gwraidd flicked a claw between her eldest and youngest, breaking their glares. “We don’t kill helpless creatures that we won’t eat. It isn’t the way of dragons. If we did, we’d be no better than them. It must go back to its people.”

“Now?” Drae thought of the dark and cold night air.

Gwraidd thought for a moment. She tilted her head as she regarded the tiny human. It tottered around Drae and began walking awkwardly toward the pit of fire where the boar still roasted. Before it could get too close and harm itself, she put a paw out to guide it gently away. It yelled at her, no form of comprehensible language came from it, yet the outstretched hand and pointed finger said everything. Gwraidd tore off a small amount of the flesh of the boar and placed it carefully into the child’s waiting hands. Immediately it began pushing the lump to its lips, using the flat front teeth it possessed to scrape mouthfuls from the chunk.

“Not now. It’s too late, we’re all hungry and we need to sleep. Tomorrow, you will take it down to where you found it and then you will leave it there.”

“But what if it gets hurt or eaten by wolves?” Drae panicked.

“Then that is the way of the forest. We don’t meddle with those things. One day you will all learn to fly, and you will spread out into this world and find your own ways, but you must know to never meddle with things of nature. This child may be here now, but we cannot keep it in our world. Drae, you must remember this.”

“Yes, mam.” He said miserably.

“Now, on to the more interesting matters. Have you had luck finding your fire today?” Gwraidd moved back to the fire pit where the coals had dimmed with inattention. The boar was finished cooking, though, so she allowed her four eldest hatchlings to scurry forward and help themselves. She tore off a haunch of the pig to give to Drae, who was hesitating between joining his siblings or to remain with his new friend. He accepted it readily, and filled his mouth, hoping that would be excuse enough to not answer his mother. She just pierced him again with an amber glare.

“No, mam,” Drae said sadly. “But I came close. I made smoke!”

“Well done. What happened to make you produce smoke?” Gwraidd was distracted by the other two boys, Hydd and Brochod, fighting over the same bit of the boar. She snapped her teeth and they stopped their bickering. Drae thought on his mother’s question for a moment.

“The child. It looked so helpless and funny that I laughed and made the smoke.” He bit off more of the succulent meat and watched the child mimic him with its own, well-gummed piece of meat. It chewed with its mouth open, fleshy lips smacking together repetitively.

“Laughter? Now that is a strong fire to have.”

“Not as strong as mine, though, mam.” Brochod lifted his head above the others, proudly grinning. “Mine is strongest as a defence, remember?”

“Didn’t you first make fire when you saw a spider?” Hydd asked innocently.

“Yeah, you really showed that spider who was boss! Singed all of its legs off. I’m sure it won’t mess with you again.” Aderyn giggled. Brochod puffed a stream of red flame at his cheeky sister, who squealed and scooted out of the way.

“Laughter is one of the strongest. Laughter connects us, the flame is kept alive by the things which bring us joy. That’s very important. I’m not surprised it brought this child to you.” Gwraidd shooed the children away from the carcass, collected the bones and tossed them down the passageway to where they’d be enjoyed by any passing carnivores in the night. In the morning she’d clear away whatever remained before she went on to hunt again. Then she began collecting up the still-warm coals into a pile to make her bed for the night. “When you find your flame, Draenog, I’m sure it’ll melt rock with its intensity. Brochod, don’t you dare try to melt that rock inside my home. It will take you forever and it will smell horrible.”

Brochod shut his mouth so fast his teeth clacked together. He glared at Drae and skulked away to the nest. While their mother’s attention was on Brochod, Drae stuck his long, forked tongue out at his brother.

“Now, get yourself and the child to the bed. Don’t put him in the middle of the five of you, the heat will harm him. Keep him curled in your tail and covered by your wing and he will sleep restfully.” Gwraidd nudged her head toward the bed where the other four were already yawning as they lay together. They might all have their differences, but in the end, they were clutchmates. That would be a bond which stayed for a long time.

Drae shepherded the tiny human with his tail towards the pile of leaves and wool. He collected the softest bits and shifted his side against Faedd. She stretched so her head rested on Drae’s shoulder. With one cracked eye, she watched the child stumble close to Drae’s exposed belly. He shifted himself so it could lay down between his limbs, using them to rest its head.

“It’s kind of cute in a way. Like an overgrown, spineless, newborn hedgehog.” She whispered as the child yawned, exposing all of its blunt, white teeth. “It’s a pity mam wouldn’t let you keep it. It might be fun to have around. How did you even get it here?”

“It sat on my shoulders.”

“Oh, so you taught it a trick too? That’s nice.” She muttered before a low snore rolled from her nostrils. Drae felt the rumble of her breath against his back. The rhythm lulled him, lapping at the fringes of his consciousness. Between his forelegs, the child pressed itself against him. One hand was firmly lodged into its mouth, and the other found Drae’s forefinger and gripped it tightly. Drae felt the warmth of the child as he drifted away.

A scream woke him with a start. Drae leaped to full wakefulness, arching his back and ready to defend against whatever was attacking. The scream peeled off into laughter. Drae blinked in confusion.

“Good morning, little brother.” Aderyn sang.

“If we ever needed proof that you can sleep through anything, Drae, this morning is all we could ask for.” Faedd shook her head at him and tutted.

Drae took in what he was looking at, his fear-spiked mind tried to make sense of it. The child was damp all over, arms stretched out either side of its chubby body as it was held aloft by Hydd’s four paws. Drae’s brother lay on his back, wings splayed flat against the dirt floor. His legs supported the human’s body on its stomach as if it was flying. Around them, the two sisters raced each other in circles with their wings outstretched.

“What’s happening right now?” Drae asked slowly, unsure if he was still dreaming.

“Well, this thing woke us early with its annoying cries. It smelled really bad and made a mess in the nest. I don’t think it’s trained yet.” Aderyn wrinkled her snout in disgust.

“Mam told us to take it down to the stream and give it a scrub.” Hydd said as he bounced the child gently, eliciting another round of giggling.

“But it got cold quickly. So we’ve been warming it up.” Bounding back and forth beside the raised child, Faedd crossed her eyes and lolled her tongue. The child kicked its legs and waved its arms, but it was held firm in its perch by Hydd’s grasp.

“Mam said you have to take it back the moment you wake up.” Over his shoulder, Brochod’s grumpy voice soured the conversation. Faedd frowned while Hydd gently lowered the child back to its feet. It stared between the five dragons, uncertain. “It doesn’t belong with us. It’s dangerous.”

“Don’t be stupid, it’s not dangerous.” Faedd snorted.

“Yet!” Brochod snapped his teeth together. “Look, Drae, either you take it back to wherever you got it from, or I’ll take it out into the woods, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t come back here.”

“Fine, I’ll take it back. You don’t have to be such a miserable idiot.” Drae scooped up the child into his arms. It settled contently, its little fingers gripping on to his scales. “Come on, little one. We’ll go find your family, shall we?”

“Bah-ah!” The child agreed.

Hydd, Aderyn, and Faedd each bade goodbye to the human. They lowered their snouts to its forehead in turn and brushed their paw pads gently over its smooth, warm skin. Brochod stayed back, watching the other four with anger in his sage green eyes.

The journey back to the glade went too quickly. Drae carried the child on his back again. This time it barely slipped as they made their way through the deep underbrush. He didn’t bounce or trot the way he had in the other direction. His mind tripped over the situation, looking for the solution to the impossible problem. But there was no two ways about it. He couldn’t keep the child.

Their slow progress to the glade gave Drae ample warning that there were others around. The birds in the tree canopy were more active and alert. It wasn’t a threat that caused them concern, but something strange in the woods. Drae crouched low to the floor, slithering along among the sticks and moss so as to not disturb the bushes they passed by and draw the attention of whatever the birds were warning of.

The glade wasn’t empty when Drae creeped to the edge. He’d intended to hide in the same bush or tree as yesterday to watch over the child, but there was no way he would be able to get to it now. Scattered between the berry bushes were a few large weird peaked things made with long sticks and similar furs to the ones the child wore. Between them was a circle of small rocks surrounding a pile of leaves and twigs. Drae could hear something strange. It was a noise like birdsong, but lower, softer. It sounded like the singing of his mother, but he’d never heard this tune. It seemed to come from inside one of the peaks. Drae didn’t dare wander closer. He stayed on the very edge of the clearing, where the sunlight streaming in over head didn’t quite reach the ground through the thick foliage. He was safest here.

On his back, he felt the child shift and slide. He tried to catch it, but it wriggled off him to the floor. Drae swiped out his forepaw to stall it, but it hurried away unsteadily on two feet. Drae watched in horror as it walked between the peaks confidently, its head swivelling in a search for something. When it was much further than Drae could do anything about, it stopped for a moment.

“Ah-Baahh!” The child yelled.

The glade exploded with motion. The furs on the peaks were thrown back, revealing more humans inside, like small, portable caves. The humans flocked out, surrounding the child until Drae couldn’t see it anymore. There were at least ten of them, taller than Drae when he stood on his hind legs. Others, skinny and over excited, were smaller, though none as small as the child Drae had cared for. These ones raced all over, disappearing to fetch others.

Eventually, Drae spotted the child in the arms of one of the tallest ones. Its strong arms held the child close, pushing its face into the child’s body. The child laughed and grabbed at the big human. Then it turned in the other’s arms and pointed backward.

Drae’s scales rippled in dread.

The child pointed directly at him, where he was hidden and invisible in the darkest part of the bushes. It waved and grunted until the large human took notice and looked to where the young one pointed. Carrying the child, it responded to the direction and walked toward Drae. He sank his stomach into the moss floor, his claws gripping into the damp soil beneath the limbs of the shrub he had taken cover in. If he could climb a tree then there was a better chance of not being seen, but if he moved then he’d be spotted instantly. He could run into the forest, but he feared the long sharp things that were strapped to the tall human’s back.

Finally, the human stood before Drae. It was about two lengths of his body from the bush.

“What is it, eh?” The human spoke with a deep voice, bouncing the child gently in its arms. Drae was surprised that it spoke with the same words he knew. “Where have you been, and where is your mother?”

“Ba-ah!” The child insisted. It wriggled in the grip of the taller one until it let the child down to the floor. The child stumbled forwards to Drae. “Ba-ah!” It said again.

It yanked a branch away from Drae’s face, revealing him to the taller human. The child squealed with laughter. The adult human stared for a moment, unsure of what it was seeing. Then its eyes must have adjusted, as it stepped backward with a yell.

“Ba-ah.” The child explained, smacking Drae’s nostril arch with the palm of its hand. Drae stared at the tall human as it stared uncertainly back at him. On its face, Drae read concern and fear. Its eyes flicked to the child and back to Drae.

The child sensed the adult’s hesitance. It walked further into the bush along Drae’s neck. The adult started forwards as if to fetch back the child, but then stopped when it realised this would cause it to come even closer to Drae. The child leaned up on to Drae’s shoulder. He felt its tiny feet scrabbling against his forearm. Drae understood what the child wanted to show its parent. He lifted his forearm, boosting the child back to its perch on his shoulders. The adult – the father – watched with eyes round with shock as the child climbed atop a pliant dragon.

Once settled into its seat, the child rocked back and forward, urging Drae to move. With one long look at the father, and to the gathering crowd beyond who watched in confusion and trepidation, Drae rose to his height on four limbs. Gasps and screams rang out across the glade.

Tentatively at first, so the humans wouldn’t spook, he walked along the perimeter of the glade. The child balanced perfectly between the nubs of spines on his shoulder blades. It grew impatient though. It bopped its weight up and down, pressing into the scales as it gripped Drae’s ears firmly. Finally, Drae knew what the child wanted. With no warning, he leaped into the air, higher than he had on the journey home last night. He landed nimbly, his claws tearing at the soft earth and moss, and bounced again. The child let out screams of laughter, giggling as Drae circled the glade with the strange peaks and the humans who were supposed to be the most dangerous things to any dragon.

Drae felt something growing in the pit of his stomach. A drawing or a pull that called to him. It sang and soared and spoke. He knew it for what it was.

On a leap he took that was going to be higher than the rest, he let out a plume of hot, flickering flame into the sky. He aimed it between the trees, not singeing a single leaf. He landed at the feet of the father, who now stood tall, laughing along with his child. Drae pulled to a halt, his heart fluttering with joy. Once he was still, the child scrambled to get down. Drae lowered himself to assist. When it stood on the ground, Drae lowered his snout to the child, touching its forehead gently.

“Goodbye, little one. I won’t forget you.” Drae rumbled. He met the father’s eyes, knowing he had heard and understood in surprise. Then Drae spun away and leaped into the forest, trusting that no sharp sticks would chase behind him.