The worst enemy

Nostrils blowing flames were a sign of fear. And my nostrils were burning like a damned pool of magma.

I crouched, actually wishing for a damned pool of magma. Pushing with my wings and darting out of it with boiling drops dancing around, and then diving again... It felt like a vague dream when I was facing the most dangerous creature in the world.

My scaleness, why did it have to happen to me? I was hanging around in the world above, searching for food, for grass and apples and other delicacies as usual. I had found this beautiful clearing with so many trees I could fill my stomach for ages, when the monster flew away from the river.

Well, maybe flew isn’t the right word. Birds flew. Squirrels flew. The monster was actually thrown away by the rapids. The river rumbled so loudly that I almost didn’t hear the piercing call the monster made when its litter landed on the grass.

My first thought was that’s more of a wicker basket than a litter.

The second was who in the world above would sail with a basket?

The third was I’m screwed.

My tail shook, my talons clawed the grass and left grooves in the ground. My wings folded up and I took the quietest step back I could take. The monster hadn’t noticed me. Not yet.

Scaly hell, I had never seen one of them so closely, but my grandpa had told me stories about them since I came out of my egg.

«My dear Steamed» my grandpa used to say, spreading his wings and coming close to me to make my brand-new nostrils blow sparkles, «They have all you don’t have. They are strong as a mountain and ruinous as a landslide. They can summon oceans and seas and drown everything into a watery abyss. They can crack the ground so that we are swallowed by the deepest depth of the earth. We ran away in the world below but we live just because they let us. Keep my words as the most precious of treasures: death is a gentle stroke compared to what they’d do to you.»

And there it was. Its skin was smooth, without scales, because it couldn’t be damaged by thorns or teeth. Its eyes didn’t glow because no enemy was stupid enough to attack it in the dark. Its tusks were short and useless because it didn’t rip apart its food, food jumped in its mouth and pleaded to be eaten. Fur didn’t darken its body because it didn’t need cover from cold or heat, except its head. Grandpa said it was a way to cheat its enemies. It made them believe it was totally undefended on the rest of its body. Scaly cunning creatures, they were. Its fingers didn’t end with talons because enemies never had the chance to get so close as to make them use such weapons.

And it was smaller than the smallest of us because it didn’t need to be big to tear us to pieces with its magic.

It seemed like it could be shred by just an ill-manicured claw. It couldn’t. It was just so powerful it didn’t have to show its power to be scary.

The monster’s call had stopped. There was hair on its head like a sadly treacherous tuft of salad. The human looked around with fake naivety, as if it couldn’t destroy me, or any other full-grown dragon who had crossed its path, with a finger snap.

«But grandpa» I used to say at the end of grandpa’s stories, trembling to my back spine, «Dragons roar. Dragons burn cities and destroy empires. Dragons crash armies with a breath and can turn the whole world in a hell of fire. And, It goes without saying, they eat humans.»

Grandpa always shook his head. «Steamed, my dear, those were the good times.»

That was centuries ago. Humans feared dragons. We could be happy then. And I wouldn’t be trapped in a clearing, with a roaring river and delicious food sprouting all around that I couldn’t taste.

The human saw me.

Oh.

For a breathless second both of us stared at each other.

I was about to shout, but the human beat me.

I jumped. The human fidgeted, shaking its fists and its feet. It laid down on what remained of its basket. It screamed again, as if it wanted to overcome the rapids.

It looked like it was crying. It sounded like it was crying. But I knew the truth. Baby dragons cried, humans didn’t. Why should they?

I had to run away as soon as possible, but I couldn’t fly. After centuries in the world below, our wings had shrunk. We could fly low and for short distances, but we got tired soon, and I was as worn out as my throat after a long flame beam. Even if I tried, I couldn’t go very far.

A thought struck me. That scream...

The human was calling its allies.

«No!» I roared, terrified, «Please, don’t harm me!»

But all I got was that the scream grew louder.

Now running away was impossible. Scaly hell, I didn’t want to turn my back to him. I could try to spit a fire beam, but he would surely survive.

And then it would eat me.

Lots of stories were told about how humans had fought dragons. Centuries ago magic was on our side and humans feared us because of this. Then they discovered ways to achieve it. Magic has a defined quantity, a balance. When they achieved magic, we started losing it.

So we became their prey. They took our cities, they hunted us. Then the last offence. They ate us, and they were better than us at eating them.

Dragons have lots of skills but cooking isn’t one of them. It’s not that we are rough and uneducated, we have practical obstacles. For example, our fire beam allows just two ways of doneness: raw or coal charred. And ash has a foul taste. Humans, maybe out of spite, found out the most creative ways of serving us on their dishes. Dragon nuggets, dragon stew with potatoes, dragon pepper steak, dragon with tuna sauce. Some stories even tell about dragon spring roll, but I believe it to be a myth.

«I don’t want to become a spring roll» I snarled imploringly.

But the human didn’t want to spare me. It was screaming to the top of its lungs, its face had become as red as the juiciest tomato. I looked around, searching through the forest and the sky for its allies, but I saw nobody. I was lucky. For now.

Oh, Revered Cauliflower, please protect me. If I ever get to return home, I’ll sacrifice tubers to you every day.

In the world below we have no food and we have to harvest it in the forest above, where obviously plants and vegetables are more common than meat so, year after year, they became the most important part of our diet. It was then that the Revered Cauliflower, master of all the vegetables and now master of all the dragons, revealed itself to us. «No holiness claimed without health gained» our priests say. Vegetables prevent us from catching diseases, they help our metabolism, they help us have a regular bowel pattern, they keep our fangs clean and bright and give light to our way to heaven as well.

I didn’t want to walk that way immediately, and in the fog of fear a an idea shone through my mind. No ally of the human was around and it wasn’t attacking me, while I was expecting to be already on its chopping board.

Had it finished its magic? I stretched my neck and raised my head. My nostrils were sparkling, but I had to pretend to be self-confident. I could imagine what the others would say if I were to become the first human killer after ages. I’d be a hero. So I opened my mouth wide and thundered:«Fly, you fool!»

I let it echo over the rumble of the river. Yes, my words weren’t persuasive at all, especially since I was the winged one.

«Look at me! I am the most dangerous dragon in the world above and below!»

The first was easy, I was also the only one. The second was poetic license.

«I order you to... Well... Not to kill me... Mmmm...» To threaten while being afraid of what you’re threatening is much harder than you’d think. «I order you to leave my way before I have to open it with fire and claws!»

Better, but I could be more intimidating.

«I am Steamed Broccoli, son of Onion Ring, son of Roasted Asparagus, descendant of the ancient race that ruled the world! My name will boom through the valley and resound in your ears until the end of your life!»

Just a bit of body language, and there it was. I flexed my front paws, as if I was about to jump. I showed my fangs, while the tip of my tail, a bone spike, swung cutting through the air. Then I roared.

It wasn’t a baby roar, mind you. It was the mightiest my lungs were capable of. The trees fluttered, the grass bent as if a big and slobbery tongue had licked it. Maybe the earth shook as well, but I can’t swear to it. When I took a breath, I was the proudest dragon you’d ever see. I puffed a satisfied cloud of smoke.

Great cabbage-filled heaven, I didn't necessarily expect the human to be frightened so much by my performance that he'd give up and surrender on the spot. Or that he’d kneel and beg to be spared. I’d have settled for a cry, or a terrified jump. An amazed gaze would have been appropriate, but it could choose the reaction that it found most proper.

But no reaction at all puzzled me.

Its hair was messy, and that was the only clue of the passage of my tremendous voice. The human stared at me as if I had just asked how are you, my dear little scale?

At least it had stopped calling its fellows.

I felt its eyes on me as if they were spikes piercing through my scales.

Then, as an answer, it let out a horrifying, guttural sound.

It was low and that made my guts twist even more. It was the snarl of a pack leader confident in its own superiority and in its strength. The snarl of a predator that didn’t have to follow its prey because it knew it was doomed anyway.

I am better it was telling me.

I did my best to acknowledge it. I ducked, head pressed to the ground as if I wanted to kiss it. I waited for it to say something, to decide I was not worthy of being forgiven. I was ready for anything to happen.

The river roared. Nothing more.

I cracked an eye open.

The human didn’t care about me. It was rummaging through the remnants of its basket.

I raised my head. What was it...

Its hands grabbed something. Its mouth widened, its eyes shone. It lifted its hand. It kept a little red stick with a tip that had the shape of an egg. The stick was shorter than its arm.

The human chuckled, shaking it. It sounded like there were seeds inside.

I expected lightning to strike me, an earthquake to swallow me. Or a wall of flame to cook me. The stick wasn’t long enough to be a skewer, but maybe it wanted to use it to roll Steamed Broccoli meatballs on the grill.

Dragon meatballs. I shivered.

But no lightning came and the human had stopped looking at me. Its other hand had grabbed another thing that must have fallen when the basket had been thrown away by the river. I couldn’t make out what it was. Laughing, the human took it and wrapped it with its arms.

I raised my head, while a horrifying realization came to me. I recognized a pair of wings, an extended neck, a long, spiked tail.

That was a small, immobile dragon, probably scared to death.

The human was squeezing him tightly. My scaleness, he had to be suffering so terribly! I wondered how such a small dragon could exist. Even a baby dragon was bigger. So what...

Then I made the connection. My eyes bounced off from the stick to the dragon like a rock on the cliff of a mountain.

That was what the stick did! It was a wicked, horrific instrument of evil magic. The symbol of human cruelty, of their devious intelligence.

It made dragons tiny and stupid. That was the only reason to explain why my fellow wasn’t trying to run away.

I’ll save you, mate! But how? The human was showing me its power and what it could do to me. I didn’t want him to decide I wasn’t a worthy audience.

The human laughed its evil laugh, then slammed my fellow to the ground. Once, and again, and again.

«My scaleness!» I let out, before regretting it. Oh, Revered Cauliflower, may his suffering end! I screamed in my mind.

Somehow the Revered Cauliflower heard me, because the human stopped slamming. It squeezed my fellow again, then grabbed his chest with one hand.

There was the sound of a rip. I stared, dumbfounded, as the hand tore up the chest. Literally. Without the visible aid of magic. It was like when I ate salad. I didn’t need strength. My fangs just made it to pieces. The same happened to that poor dragon.

The human’s fingers penetrated inside. There was another rip, then the human started pulling out cotton balls.

It continued until the poor thing sagged like a withered flower. I was amazed and astonished. I had seen a recipe to cook us nobody had even heard of. The stuffed dragon.

Cotton was a strange stuffing, but I wasn’t an expert of human nouvelle cuisine.

The beautiful, harmonious, sinuous body of a dragon wrecked like that was too much of a shock to my already worn-out heart. I entrusted that wretched soul to the hands... The leaves... Well, to whatever leafy limb the Revered Cauliflower had.

The human waved the dead dragon over its head. Cotton poured out of the wound on the chest.

Then it put the dragon down. It seemed to enjoy to be covered with cotton. For a long instant it had a thinking frown and, when the frown disappeared, it started crawling toward me.

Flames erupted from my nostrils.

It was a bit embarrassing. Even though I was going to die, even though nobody was watching me, I didn’t want to show fear. I had tried to hold it back, but in the end I gave up. Scaly hell, when you’re dead, pride is just a nice wreath on your grave, and I didn’t want to die proud but anxious. So I let my nostrils blow whatever they had to.

And that was more than I thought. I suppose I was so scared that I couldn’t understand how scared I was. I had expected some sparkles and nothing more. Instead I got two fire columns, bright and hot and destructive.

Flames higher than me raised. They burned the grass, spreading all around. They reached the trees on the border of the clearing, setting them afire from roots to foliage. I couldn’t stop blowing. It was like yawning. You can hold it back, but the yawn returns and returns and returns until you have to yawn and that’s it. So I sadly let the flames eat all the delicacies, from salad to apples. But no fruit dead that day will be forgotten.

When the blowing stopped, I felt like I was on the edge of the so yearned pool of magma. A pungent smoke filled the air and a pleasant heat burned on my scales.

And the human was trapped among the flames.

Its skin was reddened and it had started again its call. Well, that was stupid. Didn’t it understand that nobody was coming? Anyway, it wasn’t paying attention to me. It had chosen to do a fool thing instead of using its magic to wave away my fire, so I took my opportunity to escape. Moreover I had rested a little, so maybe my wings could fly enough to get away.

I beat them once, then a second time, then a third. Scaly hell! I thought, before a fourth beat. Finally I took off.

I soared over the trees, but not much higher, and even so it felt as if I had a rock on my back. Not that usually I could fly any higher, just with less difficulty. I pushed, leaving the river behind.

I passed over the human. It was still calling! My scaleness, but why? Maybe... Maybe that wasn’t a call. Maybe it was a desperate cry. Since the beginning.

I stopped. My wings were already hurting so I had to hurry. But I didn’t understand. It was desperate but it had butchered that dragon. That didn’t make sense.

But if it could save itself from the fire, it would have done so already.

The revered Cauliflower is adamantine about evil. Bad things happen but dragons must understand that bad and good are both part of the world. Evil is like a hole in a cabbage leaf. It doesn’t stop you from eating the cabbage. So it mustn’t be hated. You wash your cabbage and enjoy your meal.

So I dove toward the human.

At least I tried. Unfortunately to dive you need to fly higher than your full body length.

I grabbed the human with both my paws and I pushed toward the river. I had to return to the ground soon, and the human needed me to do it in a place that the fire couldn’t reach.

The farther I got from my beloved heat and flames, the more I realized I was keeping one of my race’s worst enemies. After passing the river I let myself fall on the ground, being careful not to harm the human. I let it go, opening my paws.

The human rolled on the ground. Smoke had soiled its face. It breathed with difficulty, but it still did.

Probably it doesn’t have magic at all I thought. I remembered stories of my grandpa about humans making toys with the shape of living things. So the dragon it had killed...

Maybe that human was a baby. It wasn’t an evil, cruel monster. It wasn’t even dangerous. It was as powerless as I would be in front of an adult human.

So I could do to it whatever I wanted, but the choice was already taken. I covered it with a wing.