Warmer Than the Sun

I am terrifying. I am ancient. I am beautiful. Out of all the creatures under the sun, there is none as wise nor as indomitable as I. Then why, if I am all of those things, am I stupefied by something so tiny, so foreign, so fragile?

I am Araxus, mighty dragon of the northern cliffs. I defend my land and my lair well, and none dare enter without my permission. If a beast wanders into the caves of my home, I smell them, and I deal with them. The manticore was no different. A beast of ferocity incarnate - the face of a great lion, large, bat-like wings, and poisonous spikes along their tails would be enough to give most a cause for concern. Not this time, though. Young and reckless, he considered my lair, or the forest just outside of my lair, to be vacant. I easily taught him otherwise. However, he brought his prey, still very much alive, into my midst. Now, the manticore defeated, the insignificant morsel stared up at me, eyes filled with tears. Its screams quieted, and I realized, with some shock, that the tiny thing thought it was safe. Safe, with me? Could it even see me?

I looked at the thing from a few angles. I towered above its wriggling form, which eventually squirmed free of its wrappings. It sat up and reached pale arms toward me. What did it seek? Comfort? Warmth? I could offer neither. It was at that moment I realized I had stumbled upon a human child.

Humans, overall, are not worth thinking on. By the time one spared a moment to think on them, their short lifespans would be spent. They had no claws or wings, no scales to protect their skin, and they were so small, even as adults. But they could think. Centuries ago, they retreated into the depths of the earth, living as moles or badgers or other small tunneling creatures would. For the most part, we creatures living on the surface all but forgot about them.

But here one was before me, struggling to stand, taking a few shaky steps before falling in a lumpy pile on the mossy forest floor.

It did not cry. It looked back at me often, for what reason, I could not say. In the end, though, I needed to make a decision. The tiny thing could not stay with me. One wrong step and it would be flatter than the leaves at my feet. It needed food. I knew nothing of humans, but the raw meat of a kill did not strike me as something it would gain nourishment from, as the child seemed too weak to garner nutrients from such a hearty meal. And no matter how many times I thought about it, the idea of abandoning something so helpless was repugnant to me. I was a dragon, the embodiment of strength and nobility. I never had bothered myself with right or wrong before this day, but staring into its bright green eyes, full of curiosity and strangely placed trust, all I could consider was bringing it somewhere where it could survive.

Which, of course, left me in a predicament. I had no knowledge of humans. Being left with only one viable option, I gathered the creature back into its wrappings, after a brief struggle, and bore it, dangling awkwardly from my teeth, away from my lair.

I knew of a human’s appearance from stories only, having never seen one myself until this tiny thing I carried into the sunrise. But I knew of the rhug-golaks. They walked on two legs, they had the same basic shape as the human I had just found. Rhug-golaks’ skin was gray and durable, seeming to be made from rock itself, while I was certain the slightest jab or poke would injure the delicate skin of the human, but it was the best I could do. Surely they could give this human better help than I could.

I knew of the home of only one, because he lived at the top of my mountain. We kept to ourselves, but I saw him occasionally. After ensuring the human was safe in my grasp, I took to the sky.

The stories I knew depicted human offspring to be screaming cowards, hiding behind their mothers or fleeing from the tiniest hint of danger. The human I carried now screeched in what I could only describe as unmitigated delight. It hurt my ears, but it was pleasing to know this tiny being enjoyed soaring through the clouds. It made me realize that I had long forgotten the joy a glorious flight could bring.

I landed as lightly as I could, so as not to jostle the creature. I set it down and watched as it fearlessly tottered around on its tiny, stubby legs. The rhug-golak came from his stone home in a hurry. I had never visited him before.

“Araxus,” he said, clearly alarmed, his voice gravelly and low. “What has brought you to my doorstep?”

I nodded my head in greeting. “Rhug-golak,” I began. His name was Rhan, but I had never spoken to him before, so therefore had no cause to use it. “I have brought you something. Think of it is a gift.”

The child whimpered and clung to my massive foreleg. It seemed to be afraid of the rhug-golak, who stared at it with wide eyes.

“A child,” he said. “A human child. But this cannot be, they live deep underground, far from here.”

“Perhaps once, but no more,” I replied. Giving as much detail as I could, I told the rhug-golak the tale of the human’s rescue, in hopes it might help.

“Fascinating,” he answered at last, “but I’m afraid I’ve missed what I can do to help.”

This caught me by surprise. “Well, you’re basically a human, are you not?”

“What? Araxus, are you even looking at the child? Rhug-golaks and humans are about as similar as you and griffons. You walk on four legs, you fly through the air. The similarities end rather abruptly, though, wouldn’t you say?”

My heart sank. “You’re saying you will not keep the child?”

“I’m saying I can’t keep the child. A child needs warmth, proper food, nurturing care. Rhug-golaks do not require warmth. We eat food that would turn any human’s stomach. My nearest of kin is hundreds of miles away. I could never subject this child to live the life of a rhug-golak. It isn’t fair.”

“But we can’t leave it to its own fate,” I countered. “I may as well just kill it now, it would suffer less.”

“Of course we can’t,” Rhan answered. “Which gives us only one other clear option. We must take it home.”

For a time, the two of us watched the child. It had left my leg and was sitting in a patch of green grass, stacking three small stones on top of each other. Upon success, it looked at me with its bright eyes shining in triumph, and babbled joyfully. “But where?” I murmured. “If the humans have secretly returned to the surface, where could they be hiding?”

“Not far. A manticore is a greedy predator, it would not have taken the time to carry its meal long.” The rhug-golak thought for a moment. “It would be somewhere hidden, somewhere safe. Somewhere fragile humans could easily defend.”

The child’s rock tower tumbled down. It looked crestfallen. “He must eat,” I added.

Rhan nodded. “I know a little of what humans eat. Berries, cooked meat, things of that nature. I know of some bushes, and a stream of clean water. I will return shortly, and while I am gone, scan the horizon. See what you may, and I suppose our best course of action would be to simply pick a place. Every hunt must begin somewhere.”

The top of the mountain provided an excellent, unobstructed view of the land. I surveyed all I could, making note of anywhere that could be easily defended. Or at least, I did my best. The curious noises of the child continued to distract me. It had wandered back to its wrappings and brought from within a tiny creature. It presented it to me, and I spared a moment to give the creature a sniff.

Confused, I learned it was not a living creature at all, but something made in the likeness of a wolf. The child held it to its chest in an embrace. It then settled down, comforted by its item, among its wrappings and seemed to have fallen asleep in the warmth of the sun. In that moment, I understood a small part of it. I relished a rock warmed by the sun. I was stretched out on one in that very moment, in fact. I enjoyed a good flight, I appreciated a worthy opponent, but my favorite thing was the warmth I felt from a sun-warmed rock.

Rhan returned, bearing a wooden bowl filled with purple berries. “It sleeps,” I mentioned. “Do not disturb him.”

He placed the bowl before the child and joined me in searching the land. He sighed, his eyes closed. “The sun,” he said with a smile. “I don’t feel warmth often, but I feel it now, on my back. It is good.”

I rumbled in agreement. For a time, the three of us rested together in the comfortable embrace of the sun. But our rest was disrupted by the harsh screech of a manticore. Several of them.

Rhan and I watched together as five of the monsters flew from our left, straight toward the horizon. They did not notice us above them on top of the mountain. Manticores, like rhug-golaks and dragons, lived and hunted alone. To see so many together was worrisome.

“They hunt a great quarry,” the rhug-golak mused. “It would be the only reason they would work as one. You say it was a manticore that had the child first?”

I nodded, feeling in my heart that if these beasts were truly hunting the humans, the humans would need help. I was not sure why I felt compelled to give them aid, but I was already attempting to wrap the child once more.

It woke up suddenly, crying and flailing its little arms around. “Let me,” Rhan offered. He scooped the child into his arms and offered it some berries. The child calmed down almost at once, and began babbling happily as it showed the rhug-golak every berry before placing it in its mouth.

I had never carried anything on my back before, but now, it seemed like the only way. Rhan clamored on, holding tightly to the human, and, quite unsure as to why, I took off.

Was my life too dull? Defending my lair from other monsters, collecting treasure here and there, I had been doing it for centuries. Some times I would leave and explore the vast and beautiful world, but even that did not hold my attention for long. But the human, who was once again giggling in delight as the wind ruffled the tuft of hair on its head, caught my interest. Perhaps humans were worth more than a fleeting thought after all. The way something so young and insignificant appreciated the same things I, a tremendous dragon, did, was curious to say the least.

“Just ahead!” Rhan shouted over the roar of the wind. I could see them, two more having been added to their numbers. A single manticore was barely a fight. Three, I would have to have a plan. Seven had me worried. Yet I hung back. Engaging them now, in the open air, would not only be foolish on my part, but it would endanger my passengers. No, I would have to follow them from afar, and hope their hunger propelled them steadily forward, and not to look around or behind them.

It was not a long flight. The manticores cut their way through the sky with definite purpose. In time, we came upon a valley. I knew of it, but had never ventured in, as the jagged mountains on either side made the idea of landing or taking off too meticulous. Of course, now that we were upon it, I realized that it was defensible and well hidden. Perhaps the perfect place for humans to hide.

I landed on a cliffside, finding it somewhat difficult for my claws and wings to keep me steady on the sloped surface. “You should stay here,” I advised Rhan. “There is a small cave, just there. Wait until I have fought off the vermin. I will then come for you and the child. With some luck, we will find the rest of the humans therein.”

The rhug-golak scrambled to the ground and steadied himself. Tiny rocks tumbled down the slope. It was precarious, and I didn’t feel comfortable leaving them there. But if the humans were truly within the valley, the manticores were, at that moment, tearing them apart.

“We’ll be alright,” Rhan told me, as though he could sense my thoughts. “Araxus, fight well. This will be a worthy battle.”

The child wrestled one arm free from its wrappings, something the rhug-golak had called a blanket. It touched its fingers, tinier than anything I had ever seen, against the hard scales of my snout. I did not overestimate the creature’s intelligence, it knew not of the peril to which I flew, but somehow, its curious touch brought me comfort. I wanted to defend it, and its home. I had never defended anything beyond what was my own before. What an odd day.

I launched from the slope, scattering loose stones like a strange rainfall beneath me. The valley entrance was narrow, and difficult to maneuver through. When it began to open wider, when I could feel the warmth of the sun on my scales, I heard the sounds of a great fight.

I knew the hunting call of a manticore. They were known to me. But the other cries, ones that reminded me somewhat of the cries of the tiny human, were foreign. The battle had indeed begun.

Upon my arrival, scarlet and silver scales shining in the light, I knew I brought nothing but despair. I could hear it in the strange language the humans spoke. I felt it as the weapons they hurled at me broke my skin. Rage bubbled up in my chest as I realized I could obliterate all of them if I tried. Every last one, in a single pass of my fiery breath. There would be no easier fight.

But I thought of the child. I saw the fear in its eyes as I fought off the manticore who found him. If he could have fought me off, if he had children or lands of his own, he would have thrown himself at me, as his kin did now.

I meant them no harm, but all they knew was fear. I would just have to show them otherwise.

If the humans were confused and surprised at my arrival, the manticores were even more so. It was immediately clear that I posed a much larger threat, although it seemed as though the humans had already gravely injured one. That left six for me.

They were quick. I feared burning them with tongues of flame, for the humans were everywhere, like ants. They had built structures climbing up the sides of the valley, buildings on the ground. They swarmed around us in an effort to defend the place they had claimed as their own.

I was fighting handicapped, and the manticores knew it. One slammed into my side and another latched its sharp teeth into my neck, clinging with sharp claws along my back. My neck was long, though, and my claws and teeth, sharper. I fought them off one by one, some in the air, some on the ground. But it was no easy fight. I felt gash after gash, and I couldn’t be sure anymore if it was from monster or human. But then, finally, when my strength began to wane, all grew quiet.

I landed, or crashed, rather, in a painful, undignified, heap. I thought of the child’s wobbly steps, his collapse. When I opened my eyes, I saw humans surrounding me. Their faces were fierce, hard, but not afraid like I expected. They carried long, sharpened sticks and other weapons I could not identify. They looked ready for a fight, and were clearly prepared to die defending their home. I longed to speak to them, to tell them of the child just up the valley, but I knew the harsh tones of the language of the beasts would only alarm them. I, for the first time in my life, was at the mercy of something else.

They had every right to kill me. I had trespassed into their land. I would have done the same to them. They had no way to know I sought only to return what was theirs.

One of them approached me. It was large, for a human. It pointed its weapon at me and said something in their strange language, and then pulled its weapon back. The others surrounding me did the same. I could not believe it, but they were giving me my life. Perhaps I had done enough. Perhaps their lives were not so lost in fear and hiding, that they could not recognize help when it came.

I made my way, with great effort, back to where I had left the others. Rhan showed great concern at my injuries, but I was starting to feel weaker and weaker, and had not the time for tending. This I told him, and begrudgingly, he climbed back on with the child, who was once again asleep.

One of the manticores had clawed through my right wing. It ached tremendously as I once against navigated the narrow valley entrance. I wondered if it might be easier to come in from above, where the valley opened and the sun came through, but I didn't think my wings had the strength to take me that high.

Once again I heard cries of alarm as I reentered their lair, and I braced against the inevitable onslaught of their weapons anew, but I felt nothing. I landed, much too heavily for my liking, but Rhan was strong and remained on my back.

He lowered himself down, and using great caution, revealed the child we had risked our lives to bring to them.

They were astonished, that much I could see. Of course they would be, a manticore making off with something so young and fragile was nothing less than a fatality.

One human came running forward, hair long and dark, tears flowing from its eyes. It gathered the child to its chest. The child’s mother, it could be no other. She wept and spoke gentle words to her child, and the child smiled, wide and joyous.

The humans erupted in shouts and laughter. They hit each other on the shoulders and put away their weapons. Many tried to speak to me, and to Rhan especially. The woman approached him, the child having been passed off to another. She pulled him into an embrace too, one she was too small to give. Rhan looked surprised and confused, unsure whether or not to give her an embrace in exchange.

She approached me next. Her eyes were the same color as her child’s. I wondered if she might embrace me as well. It would have been comedic, as her arms would not have even made it half way around my neck. But she didn’t. She placed one hand, pale and small, on my snout. It was warm, warmer than the sun. And it warmed deeper than the sun, too, deep inside, where my life flowed from. I hummed against her touch.

I became aware of humans around me, tending to my wounds, of which there were many. It hurt, some enough to elicit a growl from me. It was amusing to watch them draw back, nervous, but they always came back to continue. They spoke soothingly, and their touch was warm too.

Rhan stood beside me. “All this time, they’ve been here,” he mused. “They’ve been living here in secret, working together to survive. This is a harsh and dangerous world, one they had to abandon years and years ago. Yet here they are again.”

“Perhaps, all this time, it has been us who have been wrong,” I considered. “Dragons, rhug-golaks, even manticores. We all live alone. Our existences are solitary, lonely. Dull. But look at them. Their faces speak of joy and life, yet their years are short and filled with every danger imaginable.”

Rhan nodded. “When the child’s mother hugged me, it was warmer than the warmest summer day. I have never felt warmth like that. I covet it.” He gestured to the group of humans celebrating the return of their child. Not one of them stood by themselves. All embraced, all laughed. They lived as one.

“Perhaps I have had enough of a solitary life,” I thought out loud. “I think the world would appear dimmer, if the humans had to seek refuge under the ground once more. Especially if I knew I had the ability to give them aid.”

Rhan grunted in agreement. “I don’t know if I can go back to living alone,” he admitted. “I think there will be times when I need solitude. But these humans, they seem to embody life itself. Their lives are short, so they fill their years with joy. I, too, shall stay. If they’ll have me.”

That was centuries ago. Since that day, the day dragons and rhug-golaks thought to look outside their own selfish, solitary existences, bonds were formed that transcended generations of humans. The world remained dangerous, the monsters did not stop coming, but they now they had a rhug-golak. And they had a dragon - a terrifying, ancient, beautiful dragon. And I had them.