Chapter Two
Nakomii flew low to the ground, the mountains on either side rising high above him. The stony peaks served to channel the wind in such a way as to create turbulence. Nakomii soon realized the difference between flying and gliding five minutes into the channel. Gliding over the mountain side he was used to built his muscle up, especially the heavy work of getting up into the air. But flying, the constant use of his wings, was tiring. Lower down, nearly in the trees, he was able to glide. And he was very thankful.
Glancing upwards a little, Nakomii shivered at the pink, darkening sky. Twilight would soon start to steal the light away, and he had yet to find a cave. As the sky started to fade into dark blue, and then the star strewn black, Nakomii landed. Temperatures in the mountain, coupled with the trees hiding the ground from the sun, chilled the air below the leaves.
Nakomii spat a branch out. His landing, to say the least, was not as impressive as normal. He’d run headlong into a tree.
Feeling irritated, he curled up beneath a tree and tucked his nose under a wing.
When morning found him, he jerked awake. The sunlight lanced through the thin overhead branches and seemed to deliberately beam into his eyes. With a growl of rage, he had uncurled in his sleep, Nakomii got to his feet. For a moment he swayed, uncertain. Where am I? Why am I not in my den? Oh. That’s right.
Lifting his head proudly, Nakomii grinned up at the sky. He was exploring, something no other dragon did. Well, they did sometimes, but it wasn’t like he was doing now. They traveled in groups, and only on the one side of the range. To find mates, usually. Either the females in their small clan did not find the searching male attractive, or the only eligible females were taboo. Family. Nakomii never bothered to go to any other clan; he knew he would not be welcome. And besides, this was his adventure, he alone. No others.
Excited, he decided to find breakfast.
Glancing up at the trees, he sighed. No flying, not until he found a clearing. And besides, he needed food if he was to fly. Glancing down at the ground, and thus to his cramped, pudgy digits, he lifted his lips until the faintest line of pink, his gums, showed.
Starting out, he struggled with his natural inclination to quickly lift each front paw as it was set down, putting his full weight on the weak appendages. He was not graceful, he made noise. Bushes were broken, shredded by his scales and weight. Leaves rustled underfoot, when they weren’t ground into mulch. And his breathing was loud and rasping, warning everything away.
Breakfast, he decided, did not want to be found.
Why couldn’t he find a river? He was good at fishing, never had to worry for food except in winter! And by that time he practically slept through it! Where was a river when you needed it?
Decidedly angry, the dragon once more looked at the sky. The trees were thicker here; the ground underneath no longer choked with bushes and grass, but there was a definite lack of light as well. Shadows crept along the ground.
Suddenly catching sight of a dead tree, Nakomii stared a moment. The thick, twisting vines winding up around the trunk seemed an ill omen. The lianas had choked the tree, and Nakomii couldn’t find food. The back of his neck tightened, the thick spines there rising in a self defense action as ingrained as breathing.
Turning away from the tree and liana, the dragon started to walk again. He no longer forced himself to walk in a painful way, and he looked as if he barely walked with his forelegs at all. His hind legs held him up, his front paws were just for stability. Or so it seemed.
If Nakomii had thought about it, he might have realized that his heavy back and haunches could act as a counter balance for his shoulders and forward. His tail even added some weight, for all that it was mostly scales, and it was long. And unlike his forepaws, his hind paws were almost over developed, large and splaying. But the dragon did not think about it.
As Nakomii continued, he remained alert for anything to eat. All his air was drawn through the nose, and expelled through the mouth. His eyes, able to focus on something small and far away almost instantly, seemed to jump and roll in their sockets, always alert for the slightest movement. But he could see nothing. But smell, now, that was another matter entirely.
He caught the scent of rot. Suddenly freezing, he took another long drag of air.
The scents of the forest assaulted him, but his brain sorted them out. It did what it had been designed, conditioned to do. The plant scents, since he could not eat vegetation to survive, were processed and then ignored, filtered out. A roaming pack of wolves had passed his path a few days ago, perhaps a week at most. Since they were not food, unless Nakomii was extremely hungry and he came upon a carcass or loner, those scents too were filtered out. Small insects, animals too small to feed a small, yet powerful and hungry dragon were ignored. Birds were ignored, on the simple fact that Nakomii felt them a sort of kin.
So, in the end he had three, four scents to worry about. The first, the heavy, revolting scent of rot. Bodies, festering in sunlight, and unfamiliar situation in the heavy trees. The second was blood, but it was faint compared to the rot. Faint, but there, coppery and heavy beneath the forest and overlaying scents. The other two were different, fainter, almost like a breath of wind. He couldn’t quite grasp it. And though he didn’t much care for rotting meat, Nakomii could eat it. And since his attempts at hunting and catching prey were catastrophic, he decided to choke down enough to get him out of the woods. Then he could look for real food.
Swinging off in another direction, he continued to sniff the air. Though the heavier, stronger scents continued, the fainter two scents started to show up. Dragon, and pest.
Nakomii didn’t pause, but his face moved in an expression of distaste. Why would a dragon be near the pests? Besides the obvious… Oh. Lips twitching upwards in a smile, Nakomii chuckled. Sounding like rocks rolling down a hill, his laugh startled him. He hadn’t heard himself laugh in a long time.
The clearing in question came up quickly. The scavengers caught the strange scent of dragon, looked in Nakomii’s direction and fled. Still beneath the trees, the faint light glinting off his eyes made them glow an orange red. The scavengers weren’t stupid, they weren’t going to stick around.
Nakomii paused before entering the clearing, already seeing the bodies. He was letting his eyes adjust before going to eat. Quickly scanning the clearing, he snorted. Five bodies, some dismembered. None had escaped, or stumbled away to die. He wasn’t clear on the practice, but who ever it was, was good.
Though the bodies had been in the sun, Nakomii thought they looked pretty good, considering that maggots and vultures, small foxes and badgers had been at them. The sun had bloated the bodies, yes, but Nakomii had eaten worse. And he had yet to be sick from something he ate.
Dragons were built with cast iron stomachs, able to eat meat that was several months rancid. Though they preferred to eat fresh kills, their bodies had no trouble stripping even dung left by other predators of any and all nutrients. They preferred to hunt, their taste leaning more towards raw and bloody, not raw and decomposed. But Nakomii was hungry, and there were five semi-fresh kills right in front of him.
Wincing, he placed a paw on the first body and bit it. He curled his tongue away from the pest body as much as possible, but he could still taste it. Quickly ripping and tipping his head back, he swallowed the mouthful with a shudder. Still, he felt better in a few seconds. With that in mind, he took another bite.
Two bodies and a half later, he was full. There were hardly any bones of his meal left, a few scraps, but he’d even eaten the clothing. Insects had been downed alongside his spoilt meal, giving added nutrients. Alone, a single maggot wouldn’t have been anything except a wriggling crumb, but he’d eaten at least five pounds of maggots alone, and several more pounds of flies. That was enough for his body to work with, although it would only be a small amount of energy.
Now he was thirsty. He’d been thirsty all along, but once his hunger was satisfied, his mouth went dry and his throat constricted. Not enough to endanger him, not at the moment, but given a few days and Nakomii would be in trouble. He waited until he was a ways beyond the kill sight, and then sniffed the air.
He wasn’t sure how to describe the scent of water. He had heard it described as a cold scent, or a liquid scent. He thought it smelt like wet earth flowing. However it smelt, he caught the scent almost instantly, his need and his brain working together to filter out the scents of meat, vegetation and rot. His head snapped towards the scent, almost sending him over onto his side. Stomach swollen from his meal, he started off.
Right away he realized he had a problem. He tried ignoring it, but it wouldn’t go away. Although dragons could hold their refuse longer then others in the mountains, they couldn’t hold it indefinitely. And his limit had just been reached.
Looking around, he winced. Crouching down behind a bush, he lifted his leg and relaxed. A few minutes later, he happily left the area, vowing to dig a hole next time.
The river showed up a few miles away from his pit stop. Fast, wide and deep, the shallows were shallow in comparison. But it was clear, or as clear as a fast moving river could be. You could see a few feet in, but not the bottom. That was okay with Nakomii.
Stretching his neck out over the water, he dug his claws into the bank. No dragon liked water, but Nakomii liked it the least. Even though his bones were far lighter then other dragons, even though he fished more, he still sank. It was instinct to panic, to flail about in the water. But then your head went under, you breathed water, and you drowned. No one was around to pull him out. He was taking no chances.
He flicked water to the back of his throat with his tongue. After a few minutes, he took his first swallow. His tongue wasn’t developed to flick water into his mouth, it was long, thin, and could pick out tastes from the air. While between his teeth, it looked large, but his jaw was thin, pointed and short for his species.
Still thirsty after a few minutes, Nakomii growled. Turning his head, he looked over at the small cat that had thought to try and edge up and pounce on him. It turned tail and fled. Even though he couldn’t fight, the cat knew about dragons. A malformed one might be killed, but so would the cat. It wasn’t worth the risk.
Turning back to the river, Nakomii bared his teeth. There was no reflection in the water, just ripples. Finally giving up, he plunged his muzzle into the river.
He opened and closed his mouth several times, quenching his thirst. Able to pull in half a gallon at a time and swallow it all at once, he only needed a few seconds before able to back away and head back to the trees.
Thoughts of flying had abandoned him, it seemed. Although the river had an almost perfect runway, clear space above, there were no thermals over the slightly tepid water. It moved too fast to heat up enough to support Nakomii’s body mass. His wings were big, but not that big.
Besides, he thought, I am getting used to these woods. And soon there will be a clearing I can fly from. I’ll make good time then. But first, a nap.
He was tired. His meal and drink had filled his stomach full, and it needed time to digest. And Nakomii wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere at the time, he felt. The moment he saw the tipped over tree, he curled up in the depression left by the roots. His tail and one hind paw stuck out, but he was asleep before he could care.
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He was flying, taunting Obelisk by flying over and under and around the bigger dragon. Obelisk was trying to catch him, but couldn’t keep up. The black dragon’s wings labored to keep him aloft, and couldn’t work faster or harder. And Nakomii was having an easy time of it. He laughed. It wasn’t the laugh from the woods, it was a full throated, ringing laugh, Obelisk’s laugh made deeper. Like thunder.
Nakomii would have been having an even better time if something wasn’t chewing on his foot…
“Nearg… Huh?” Nakomii lifted his wing away from his face, and looked around. He wasn’t flying, Obelisk wasn’t there, and something was chewing on his foot. He looked down at it, and moved quickly, so quickly he later wondered how he’d managed it.
Teeth bared in a snarl, he reached one wing out, folded and rigid, and slammed it into the lynx. The cat flew a short distance before bouncing along the ground a few times. It lay still, and Nakomii started to feel a little sorry. The cat hadn’t gotten through the tough scales, and it was young yet. Smaller then normal, with a pelt still fluffy and soft from being a cub not long ago. At least, Nakomii thought the fur was soft. He hadn’t paid any attention.
He moved slowly toward the young lynx, feeling an unfamiliar compassion. Things died all the time, he shouldn’t be sorry for a young cub. But something about the way it had been gnawing on his foot nagged at him, and he had to see if he’d killed it.
He hadn’t, surprisingly. His blow hadn’t been strong, calculated. It had clanked off the cub’s back, flipping the surprised lynx end over end, and though it was stunned, it was bruised, not broken.
Nakomii still felt sheepish. He’d over reacted. If the cub had been a bear, or a cave lion, he would have had to defend himself, and would have failed. If it hadn’t been a cub, he would be dead.
Reaching out one distorted paw, he gently touched the cub’s side. Just to see if it was soft. It was, softer then it should have been. Frowning, Nakomii looked down at it, and saw its eyes flicker open. Tilting his head, Nakomii sighed. Great, he was starting to think of a cat as a dragonet. Why?
The cub scrambled to its feet and mewled at Nakomii. Nakomii bared his teeth in reply, then turned to leave. He would never get to sleep now. He might as well move. At least his stomach wasn’t so big. And then something tugged on his tail.
Turning around, he growled at the lynx cub. It looked at him, and he suddenly felt guilty, again.
“Look cub, you lynx, me dragon. You go home. Goodbye.” Baring his teeth, Nakomii leaned forward and nipped at the cub’s noise. It gave something like a yelp and ran away. The dragon lifted his head and watched it go, then sighed. What was wrong with him? It was a cub! He had to get out of these woods, they were affecting his brain.
He wondered if the loneliness was getting to him yet.
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Dekani stared at the dead baby. It wasn’t eating. She didn’t understand. She held food to its lips, but it wouldn’t move. She dunked its head into a nearby stream, almost a river, and it didn’t move. It didn’t do anything. She was starting to get worried, or as close as she could get.
In the far off, little used portion of her mind, she started to get a slight idea. Maybe magic? Magic… what? Magic something. Magic food?
The girl got back on her feet, one hand curled around the baby’s neck, the other moving aside a tree branch.
She’d go get magic food for the baby. Then it would move, and everything would be right again. And it would make that noise again. She liked the noise it made when she found it, but she couldn’t remember the noise.
What was the noise, again?
