Those Who Devour

From where he sat upon the ridgeline, Falsrax could see everything inside the valley he presided over. Deer grazed in a small meadow to the south, cropping the early morning grass that was undoubtedly still sweet with dew. A small stream cut through the center of the dragon’s small domain, not yet alive with the fish that would feast upon the midday insects that would laze above the water. Birds had only just begun to stir, chirping out their morning songs as they prepared to take flight and feed.

But it was none of these, possibly save for the deer, that truly captivated the wyrm’s notice. Far to the west, a few miles away from the village that resided in the valley, was a small child. The little one was alone, but this was no accident.

Falsrax had watched as the child’s mother, already heavy with another babe in her womb, had led her offspring into the forest well before first light. The path she took had been a time worn one, the route that all parents in the village took when they had one too many mouths to feed. It was, sadly, a condition that was all too common amongst the humans.

The dragon’s lip curled in disgust as a wisp of smoke simultaneously curled out from one nostril. Of all the creatures that devoured their own kind, whether that be beasts of the sea, sky, or earth Falsrax firmly believed that humans were the worst of them all. For all the other cannibalistic animals devoured one another’s body, using their flesh to sustain them. Humans, however, consumed something far worse. They satiated their appetites on the potential of their own.

The abandoned child, truly no more than two winters of age, had been instructed to remain seated on an old granite boulder until their mother returned. Even from where he sat on the mountainous ridge, the dragon’s keen ears could make out every word that the human mother had spoken to the child. But that had been hours since and though the child’s patience had been admirable, especially considering his young age, it had run its course. It was now wandering through the trees calling for its mother.

Despite the volume at which the child called for its parent, there was no response. This was by design, of course. The humans of the village had designated this spot as the place where the unwanted or unnecessary, Falsrax had heard the word used many times throughout the years, were deposited. Not just children were sent here, of course. The elderly, the sick, and the disabled were also left in that small clearing to be disposed of by nature. The wolves of the area had long since begun to see the place as means of an easy feast. So many had been ripped to shreds on the very rock that the toddler had been left on that the granite should have been crimson.

Just as Falsrax made that observation he saw several gray shapes moving through the trees, all of them on a direct path towards the noise making child. But the dragon did not move. The little one, somehow, seemed to sense the danger it was in and stopped crying. A wise move, especially for one so young, but far too late. The wolves had his scent. Their approach now was slow, cautious. They had been fought here before by the elderly or the sick. Those battles had all ended in a feast, but they were wary all the same.

Falsrax shifted on the ridge as he watched, his silver scales combining with the early morning sunlight to create a dazzling display of lights. Dozens of smoke trails curled above the village as the humans began their days, no doubt oblivious for the most part about the dark deed that had been undertaken that morning. So many times, he had listened in on the days following an abandoning, but it was rare that any in the village questioned the disappearance.

Another wisp of smoke from his nose, this time accompanied with a growl. It would have been one thing to mourn the loss of those they disposed of like rubbish, but the village seemed to care little for the loss of life. Not for the first time, Falsrax considered laying waste to the human village. So often they had stolen away the potential of the young ones, the sick, or the disabled it seemed only right that they tasted a fraction of the pain they had caused.

So often the wolves would devour their prey whilst they still lived. The screams of the dying going unheard by the very people they had lived with and even loved. Before he had even time to process the decision, the great dragon was on his feet. His wings stretched out at his sides, their sheer size casting a large shadow over the valley as they blocked out the morning sun.

With one great heave he threw himself into the air, catching the wind with the ease of memory. Had he paused to consider what he was doing he may have stopped himself. The affairs of humans were not his business. So, he simply did not take that time. Several trees were crushed beneath him as he cleared a spot to land, right before the abandoned child. The wolves that had been hunting the human quickly retreated, well before the human child ever knew of the danger they were in.

The child, a small female as it turned out, did not seem to register itself out of peril, however. She took one look at Falsrax’s massive form and let out a terrified squeal. Curiously, she did not retreat even a single pace. Perhaps that was out of fear, being frozen in place. But that thought was quickly dismissed as her terrified squeal transitioned into a coo of wonder. Falsrax had been present in this valley long before the humans had ever settled here some one hundred-odd years ago, but they all knew of the dragon. He had fed upon their livestock when they had overhunted the game that lived here, his own way of teaching them moderation. All in all, his presence was something of a myth. He had, after all, never interacted with them and they had been more than content to leave him be.

The smell of smoke grew stronger, accompanied by shouts from the village. But the little girl would not have been able to hear it. Her eyes were still locked on him, doubtless transfixed by the splendor his silver scales displayed. As if to prove this point, she began to walk forward, one tiny arm outstretched towards him. She made small cooing noises, no doubt emulating what she had seen other villagers do to skittish horses.

Falsrax lowered his enormous head to peer at her with one eye. This gave her only a momentary pause before her forward progress resumed. Her hand hesitated for only a moment before she pressed it to one of the small scales right below his eye. Even though these were his smallest scales, her little hand scarcely covered even a quarter of its surface.

“Hello,” she said, her voice decidedly cheerful.

A single wolf, braver or foolhardier than the rest, had made its way to the edge of the clearing and was clearly weighing its options. The child presented an easy meal, but Falsrax was certain death to challenge. The dragon allowed a small tongue of fire, barely a spark really, to free itself from his maw. The message was clear, and the wolf retreated at once, unwilling to face its own demise. The deer of the forest were far less likely to get him killed than the child was.

The shouts from the village were all but silent now, having lasted no more than the dozen or so minutes he had been here with the child. She continued to be fascinated by his scales, tracing each one with a finger so small that her touch tickled. A small chuckle escaped Falsrax, but with it went a large puff of smoke. The child instantly paused in her exploration. Certain that he had scared her, he blew a small amount of smoke over her to show that it was harmless.

The child squealed in delight and laughed. The sound was so delightful, and unexpected, that the dragon joined in as well. With his deep rumbling laugh, more and more smoke was released onto the child. Her mirth only stopped when she began to cough from the amount of smoke that he had released around her. A single weak flap of his wing was enough for the smoke to be blown clear, providing her with clean air once more.

The scent of fire was strong in his nose now, but this was not his own making. While the child fascinated herself with his claws, which were indeed magnificent, he craned his head back to look at the village.

Where there had been dozens of small chimney fires trailing into the sky, now only a single black pillar remained. It was massive, doubtless encompassing the entire village. The smell of burning flesh was on the air as well. Falsrax turned his attention to the little girl, who had climbed onto his foot in the brief time his attention had been distracted and studied her.

It was incredible how fate twisted. This child, abandoned for death, was quite possibly the only surviving member of her village. Which, of course, left Falsrax still wondering about what he would do with her.

The simplest option would be to leave her here. She was a human, after all. But he dismissed that at once. Though he had saved her life on a whim, he had still done so. That meant something, though he was yet unsure as to what.

The next option was more complicated. Though he had not left his valley in many years, he was sure that there were more human settlements nearby. It was likely he could drop her at one of these and she would be taken in by someone. But it was also possible that they would be just as foul as this village had been and cast her out. After all, she was still young and had no family. Many would doubtless see her as a burden, just as her own family had. Chances were high that, should he leave her, she would not survive.

Which left the third option. Falsrax, again without consciously deciding to, knew that this was the only option that was possible. She would be well looked after, much better than anyone else could have. No one would dare lay a hand on her while her guardian was around, and possibly even when he wasn’t. His scent would be on her, dissuading any from attempting to harm her.

Speaking to her would be difficult, as well as raising her. Dragons did not speak the human tongue, though they understood it well enough. He understood that many humans viewed dragons as little more than mindless beasts. His kind had done little to dissuade that notion as it was far easier to decimate the limited parties that attempted to hunt them when they underestimated their prey.

But this human, Fyrd he had decided to call her, would know of dragons.