Chapter Eleven

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Chapter Eleven

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In the gloomy light beneath churning clouds, and dark canopies, the tiny dragon stalked his prey. It slithered and scuttled over mossy rocks. Its tiny scales, green like his, blended into the moss but its shiny black legs gave it away. It paused, flicked out its pink tongue, and clacked mandibles beyond its angular head. The little dragon froze, one paw hanging in the air.

When the creature moved again, he moved with it, creeping ever closer across the battered stones. Soon he drew almost near enough to snatch its tail in his jaws, and yet he waited. This was the third time that day he’d hunted a spider-snake. Welts on his paws reminded him why he had to be patient. He crept a few paces closer, ignoring the way the creature’s tail flicked back and forth, as if daring him to pounce. That was what got him bitten earlier. This time he was patient. This time he was ready.

The spider snake cocked its head, flicked out its tongue. Its mandibles clicked twice. A sudden swirl in the brackish water beyond the stones drew its attention. It twisted towards the water, skittered across the rocks, and the dragon pounced. He landed with his little green paws on the thing’s head. It thrashed and twisted, beating segmented legs against moss-shrouded rocks. Then it coiled its slender body around his copper-striped forelimb. The hatchling yowled and struggled, then saw an opening and sunk his jaws into the spider-snake, just behind its head. He tasted blood, and yanked his head up, decapitating his prey at last. It jerked and seized, then went limp, uncoiling from his foreleg, ichor spilling down the stones and into the black water beyond.

At long last, he had conquered the spider snake’s mound of rocks.

The little dragon roared his victory. “RAAAAAAHH!”

Pleased with himself, the hatchling snatched up the carcass in his jaws and headed back the way he’d come. He clambered across the pile of mossy stones until he reached the edge of the water he could not drink. It bubbled around the stones, black and smelling vile. He waggled his haunches, and leapt onto a boulder, claws scrabbling at the slimy surface. Then he leapt again, onto a log that was longer than mother’s tail, and spanned the burbling ooze.

Though the joy of success put a happy bounce in his gait, he still watched his footing carefully as he crossed the log. Last time he’d slipped on a slick spot, he’d tumbled into the black water and been sick for days. This time mother wasn’t watching, wasn’t here to pull him out. The thought made him shiver. His scales clicked and the dead spider-snake jiggled as it hung from his jaws.

At the end of the log he had one more jump to make. He landed a little short, and slid down a damp, lichen-covered slope. His hind paws slipped down into the dark water, cold against his tender pads.  He beat his tail against the water, and paddled his webbed hind paws against it till his unsheathed claws found purchase. He clawed and scratched at the sloped stone, dragging himself back up the rock. When he finally crested it to safe ground, he scrunched his muzzle and shook out his hind legs one at a time.

The hatchling bounded the rest of the way home, his prize dangling from his jaws. He couldn’t wait to show mother. Momma was gonna be so proud. He followed his own paw prints back up the mound of earth to the summit. There, slabs of stone jutted up from the ground and lay against each other like the gnarled teeth of some ancient beast. In the crook of those very stones was the cave where the little dragon and his mother lived, their only shelter from the swamp and its many dangerous. The only home he’d ever known in his short life.

The cave was empty. Mother had been gone most of the day. She was gone a lot lately, hunting food. He knew she’d proud be when she came home, and found that today he was the one who did the hunting. She’d be proud when he told her the tale of his great conquest. He made his way to the back of the cave, where a few scraps of fur and hide marked the bed they shared.

The little dragon spat his prize out near their bed. He licked his muzzle, and his belly rumbled. He hadn’t eaten since mother shared her spine bird earlier that morning. He whined, torn between quelling his hunger and showing off his prize. In the end, hunger won out. He devoured half the spider-snakes body and two of its legs. The legs had a hard outside but a soft inside, but they were not as tasty as the swamp crab mother brought back now and then. The body tasted a little better. When he’d eaten enough, he set the rest aside to give to mother when she returned.

With his hunger quelled, the young dragon needed water. He picked up a hollow shell in his jaws and trotted to the very back of the cave. Though their home was surrounded by water they could never drink, purer water trickled through pores in the rock. The hatchling set the shell down and nudged it up against the gray and black stone. He sat on his haunches, waiting as water ever-so-slowly trickled into his shell.

Movement and color caught his eye. He tilted his head back. A bright red and yellow creature slunk across the damp stone above him. It had big, black eyes, a long, flat tail and more legs than him. The hatchling’s bronze eyes went wide, and his jaw hung open. Mother called them poison salamanders, said they were dangerous. 

If mother was here, she’d get rid of it to keep him safe. But mother was still gone. He’d have to get rid of it to keep himself safe. No, better, to keep his mother safe. Then she’d have two reasons to be proud of him. But mother said never to touch the poison salamanders. He’d just touch it for a moment, then.

The hatchling reared back onto his hind legs, propping his forepaws up on the wet wall. He took a deep breath, willing himself to be brave. The youngling’s copper striped tail curled, and cold worms wriggled in his belly. He reached up with a trembling paw. Then he hissed, telling himself he was brave. He conquered spider-snake’s rocks.

Fast as he could, the hatchling snatched the six-limbed creature off the wall. It wriggled and twisted against his grasp as he dropped back down onto three paws. He hobbled through the save as fast as three paws could carry him. As soon as he got outside, he cocked his foreleg back and hurled the poisonous thing down the hill and into the dark water. It splashed into the mire, squirmed and waggled its tail, pushing it across the surface.

Tails could do that?

He gazed over his copper-spotted wings, staring at his tail. He swished it a few times, hints of webbed spines at its tip. Mother said they’d grow someday. Maybe he’d have fins, like a spike fish. Then his forepaw tingled. He cocked his head, staring at it. Slime clung to his pads. He gasped, little frills extended.

Oh no, ‘mander poison!

He’d ran back into the cave just as fast as he’d left it. The hatchling galloped all the way to the back of the cave, then skidded to a stop and bumped up against the wall. He grunted, shook himself, and found his shell, now half-filled with water. He plunged his paw into it, rinsing the tingly slime from his pads. Then he filled the shell and washed his paw again, then once more.

When he was satisfied he wouldn’t have a poisoned paw, he returned the shell to the trickling water until he had enough to drink. Finally he was able to quench his thirst, lapping up a few muzzlefuls of water from the hollow vessel before it was empty. He filled it and drank it down three more times before he’d gotten enough.

Then he belched, and giggled.

After that, there was little left to do but wait for mother. He wasn’t allowed to go any further than the piles of rock where the spider-snakes hunted. Even the he wasn’t really supposed to go there on his own. But mother was gone longer and longer these days, and the cave was boring and empty and sad when he was alone.

For a while, he busied himself chasing bugs and guarding against poison salamanders. Then he fetched a scrap of fur from the bed. He tossed it in the air then tried to catch it in his jaws before it landed. He dug his claws into crevices in the stone and climbed the walls as high as he dared. When he’d worn himself out, he flopped down onto the dirty old bits of matted fur and hide, and dozed a while.

Familiar wing beats roused him. He lifted his head, then jumped to his paws, ears swiveled. “Momma!” He jumped to his paws, and ran to the cavern entrance. It was darker outside now. “Momma momma momma!”

His mother swept in through churning gray clouds that hung low enough to brush the towering trees and their spiny boughs. Her great green wings barely fit through the opening in the canopy, and as she dropped towards the rock-capped hill, she flared them to slow her decent. She landed hind paws first, then dropped her front paws down and trotted towards him, his dinner in her jaws. She limped on a foreleg, a lingering reminder of the things in the swamp that sometimes stung her.

“Momma! Momma, momma, momma!” The hatchling bounced up and down in his excitement, tail swishing.

When his mother arrived, she reached out with a paw and loving cupped his head. Purring up a storm, he nuzzled and licked at her soft webbing, her paws had far more of it than his did. She pulled her paw back and slipped into the cave. As soon as she walked past him, he pounced on the end of her tail, grabbing at the lines of webbing on either side. Clutching to her, he giggled as her tail bounced and swayed, carrying him into their home.

Near their bed, she lowered her head and dropped his meal. “Here. Eat.” She curled her tail around, and gave its passenger a few licks.

The hatchling purr, and returned the affection before he caught sight of what she’d brought him. A wide, flat creature nearly as big as he was with many legs and a gray, chitinous shell. His eyes lit up and his tiny frills all flared in excitement.

“Swamp crab!” He hopped off his mother’s tail and ran circles around her, instead. “Swamp crab, swamp crab, swamp crab!”

“Yes.” His mother chuckled, and eased herself to the ground with a sigh. “Your favorite. Now come eat.”

“Momma, I hunted too!” He skidded to a halt, arching his neck in pride.

“Did you?” Mother gave a soft, hissing laugh. She grasped the swamp crab, and with a few twists of her forelegs and flicks of her claws, she broke down the shell, exposing the meat inside the body and legs. “And what did you hunt?”

“Spider-snake!” He took the remains in his jaws, and trotted over to his mother, where he dropped it in front her. “It’s for you!”

His mother’s smile warmed heart, and filled him with the great pride of a proud conqueror. She lowered her head, nuzzling him. “My brave little hunter. But you know you’re not supposed to leave our home without me.”

The little hatchling pulled his head back, cocking it. “But you were gone all day, and I was bored and hungry and you hunted for me and I want to hunt for you too!”

His mother laughed again, tilting her head to lick him all down his body. “I know. Just be careful out there. Stay away from the black water, alright?” Her voice softened, filled with a strange, trembling sadness he did not like. “I’m sorry I’m gone so long lately. One day, I promise, safe food and clean water won’t be so hard to get. I’ve been searching, and I think I’ve found…” She trailed off, then bumped him with her nose, smiling again. “Eat your crab. You have to be strong before we can travel.”

“Travel where?”

He flopped down, and dug his teeth into the succulent crab meat. Of all the creatures safe to eat, the crabs were the tastiest. Sweet and juicy and he could eat them all day. Momma said they were hard to find and sometimes she had to dig them out of the black water and the mire. But she was bigger and stronger and so the water wasn’t as bad for her to be in.

“Somewhere better.” A warm, hopeful glow shone in her bronze eyes even in the growing darkness. “Somewhere safe for you to play, and swim, and hunt.”

He chewed a mouthful of meat, then lifted his head, juice dribbling down his jaw. “Like in the stories?”

“Yes, love, like in the tales.”

He thumped his tail, grinning. “Tell a tale!”

Mother shook her head. “Eat your crab first.”

The hatchling licked his muzzle, chirping. “Eat your snake!”

Though mother was so big she could have eaten a whole spider-snake in one gulp, she cut it into pieces with her claws, and ate it bit by bit. Pride swelled his little chest plates to know he could hunt for his mother as well as she could hunt for him.

He tossed aside bits of empty shell as he ate the crab, looking up at his mother. Her once vibrant green colors seemed duller lately, as if she was covered in a film of black water. She looked a little thinner lately, too, her hind legs a little slender. She kept telling him to eat so he’d get strong, but maybe she needed to get strong, too.

The hatchling clamped his jaws on the crab shell, and with a few grunts of effort dragged it to his mother’s chest. Then when she gave him a confused look, he butted his head against her. “Eat your crab, momma!”

It was more than he could fit in his belly, anyway.

His mother stared at him, her frills trembling, ears half-splayed. Her eyes shone with a strange light. He’d never seen her look quite like that. It was as if she couldn’t decide if she should be happy or sad and so she just picked both. She lowered her head and licked him until he giggled and squirmed. Then she picked apart the shell with her claws. She cut away the choicest bits that remained and passed them to him.

“Alright, but only if you eat your favorite parts.”

That sounded like a good deal to him. They finished the meal together, and when he was done she licked his paws and muzzle clean for him. Mother limped to the back wall to fill up a few hollow shells with water. She drank some and brought another back for him. He drank it down, and mother got him another and he drank that too. When they’d both finished their water, mother curled herself upon the scraps of fur and hide.

The little dragon padded over to her, and crooked her foreleg to give him a place to snuggle up. “Tell a story?”

“Mother is tired, little one.” She stretched her neck, licking his face.

He nestled down between her foreleg scutes and her body, savoring her warmth. “Little story?”

Mother curled her neck to her head near him. “Alright, alright. What kind of tale do you want to hear?”

“Exciting!”

“Exciting it is, then.” Mother licked her nose, smiling. “Close your eyes, then, and picture it all.”

The tiny dragon lay his head over his mother’s foreleg, closing his eyes.

Mother’s voice was warm, and soothing and put wondrous pictures in his head. “Once, in an age long past, there was a beautiful world. The skies were clear, and blue, and there was clean water everywhere. You could swim and drink and hunt, and never fear the poisons. And in this world, there was a dragon.”

The hatchling opened his eyes, lifting his head. “Was it a green dragon?” He giggled, wriggling his tail. “Like me?”

Mother laughed and licked him on the nose. “Yes, he was a green dragon, like you.”

“Did he conquer stuff?”

Mother’s laughter made her chest rumble against him. “Yes, he conquered many lands, as befits a great dragon. But you’re skipping ahead. Now, close your eyes, and picture a better world.”

The little dragon nodded, laid his head against his mother, and closed his eyes again.

His mother lay her head down over him. Her voice reverberated through his body. “In this beautiful world, filled with clean water, there was a dragon. He was great, green and resplendent…”