Last
Wild Dragon
It was impossible.
A dead dragon.
But dragons didn’t just die.
Only thread or old age could kill a dragon. When it was time to die, dragons went
between.
Besides dragons lived in weyrs,
and Telgar weyr was seven days walk from the cliffs of Xadu. From the top of
the cliffs, not the bottom.
Wild dragons simply didn’t
exist.
Except this one had.
Kyte had noticed the carrion
birds while she gathered herbs for the Hold’s healer who was too frail to
venture into the forest. Five massive birds circled a few kliks away. More than one herdbeast had fallen from the cliffs of Xadu where the
forest dissolved into a fifty-foot drop. Shrugging on her knapsack, she began
walking.
At the edge of
the forest, Kyte looked down an arrow nocked on her bow focusing her sight on
the still form. The carrion were becoming braver as they hopped toward the massive
form. Weyr dragons were purported to be huge, though this dragon seemed smaller
than the ones Calon, Lord Holder’s son, had bragged about when he had been
chosen as a candidate to impress a dragon. Kyte snorted. At least those newborn
dragons had enough instinct to know better than to impress upon him.
The carrion’s voracious
appetites would destroy the dragon hide as they attacked the carcass with
talons, beak and teeth. Arrow drawn, Kyte ran into the clearing to chase them
away, shooting one with her arrow. Quickly nocking another arrow, she let loose
volley after volley until the carrion scattered in the wind and her quiver lay
empty.
They would
return, but not today.
As Kyte picked up
the spent arrows she kept a leery eye on the dragon, bemused as the scales
changed color as she walked around it. Black, but not black. Green, but not
green. Purple, but not purple. Blue, but not blue. Colors changing at will with
light and shade, blending into the surroundings.
Hiding in plain
sight.
Its spiked tail
curled around its head and body protecting itself as if it slept. Open eyes,
once iridescent and full of vitality, were now grey and dull with the film of
death. Spanning her hands between its eyes, Kyte whispered a blessing. Sadness
at the loss of life drooped her shoulders. Sadness for the desecration she must
commit. Dragon hide would fetch a steep price on the black market. Marks, she
and her mother desperately needed. Inhaling deeply, she shook off her
melancholy.
A quick glance at
the sun confirmed a few scant hours until sunset. The body of the dragon
blocked a small cave at the base of the cliff, and would provide shelter for
the night, while a fire near the entrance would discourage any curious night creatures.
Three hours
later, a fire blazed while she scraped the dragon hide she’d removed. Guilt
over violating such a magnificent beast warred with the necessity of removing
the hide to prevent it from rotting. She’d worked around the bony spikes riding
the dragon’s spine to cut even sheets of hide. Though she had to sharpen her
blade numerous times, she harvested over twenty weaver’s lengths of hide. Sprinkling
salt over the scrapped raw side of the hide, she placed them back to back.
Tomorrow she would build a travois to carry the hide home.
Tossing a thick
branch on the fire, she smothered a yawn as she placed her knife on the ground.
Wrapping her cloak around her, she curled toward the fire and rested her head
on her arm, closing her eyes to allow sleep to claim her.
Terror ripped
through her body as Kyte woke, gasping for breath. Her heart pounded so rapidly
it felt as if it would explode from her chest. The fire had burned down, but it
was the numerous pairs of yellow eyes peering at her from their shadow shapes
that triggered her fear.
Wulvines. Pack
hunters. The smell of death brought them. Fear rippled through her, though not
as intense as it had been when she’d first awoken.
Kyte grabbed a
burning log with her left hand and held her knife in her right. “It’s okay.
I’ll just scare them away. There’s plenty of dragon for the entire pack to eat.”
She didn’t know whether she talked aloud to comfort herself or convince herself
she could chase them away.
Yelling and
brandishing her weapons, she charged the wulvines. Their yellow eyes winked out
as they slunk behind the dragon’s carcass, growling and snapping at each other.
Releasing the breath she hadn’t known she’d held, she placed more logs on the
fire stoking it into a cheery blaze. There was more than enough wood to last
the night. She lay down, trying to sleep, but sleep eluded her.
A rock clattered
from the depths of the cave as a curious snuffling echoed. Heart pounding, she
held her breath as she listened. She’d searched the cave earlier, but not as
thoroughly as she should have done. Knife in hand, she carefully rolled over to
peer into the darkness.
Emotions rolled
over her. Loneliness. Fear. Hunger . . . intense, creeling hunger.
But they weren’t her
emotions.
Whatever was in
the cave, it didn’t want to hurt her. “It’s okay. You can come out. I won’t
hurt you.” Staring into the cave’s depths, she laid her knife behind her and
held out both her hands. “Come on out. I’m a healer’s daughter. I can help you.”
With an awkward
gait, the creature wobbled toward her. About the size of a large canine, but
not any type of canine she’d ever seen. Green ichor oozed from a cut on its
front leg as it limped, wings dragging, toward Kyte until she could touch its
muzzle.
A dragon? A baby
dragon?
“Now, what am I
to do with you?”
Its eyes whirled
red, orange and yellow as it tilted its head.
Feed me?
********************************************************************************
This short fanfic story is an homage to the Dragonriders of Pern by the late, great Anne McCaffrey.
While it was entered in a Random House contest, there are many more entries much better than mine, I really enjoyed the challenge of writing a new story. Yes, I did use the same character name as all my other stories. To be honest, it's because I suck at naming characters and this one works for me.
While this story was streamlined to fit the 1000-word limit, I have been thinking about how I can develop a plot to fit this submission. The rusty wheels are starting to churn in my brain.
Maybe, just maybe, I'll come up with another story.
Write on!
