Beginning of that dragon!Kogi thing
Wind howled hungrily through the valley, turning over the leaves of the bending trees, rendering them gray and pale, foreshadowing a strong storm. It brought with on its back the smell of rain and a distinct chill as it pierced fabric and rushed around corners, reminders that the day was slowly crawling to an end. Zeph turned up his collar against its searching fingers. The sun was already brushing against the ridges of the western peaks and, while it wouldn’t sink under the line of the Earth for a while yet, the valley would be submerged in darkness very soon. He needed to find shelter quickly, unless he wanted his fire to be chocked before he even made a stable flame. Sighing, Zeph reshouldered his pack, beginning a slow assent up the eastern face, towards a crack in the sheer mountain side above the tree line that could very well be a suitable cave to camp out in.
He had been traveling for a week now, heading south, and there was still a several days’ journey ahead until he reached Derreen. From then on he could at least hitch rides from local farmers heading to Glenties, instead of all of this infernal walking. He sighed, fingering the letter of recommendation tucked into the chest pocket of his tunic, wondering if any of this was really worth it. It wasn’t the walking that even bothered him so much but to make the hundred league journey to the city just to be rejected from the tamer’s guild. What did it even matter if he was in a guild or not, he knew enough about kelpies and harpies and manticores and dragons and hippocamps and hippogryffs and even unicorns and caladrii and sirin to correctly assess and remove a threat or at least prevent any of the humans affected from getting killed by their own stupidity. He spent enough time both at the library and in the forest to prove it.
It was, however, a thankless job chasing around brownies that got too mischievous for their own good. Especially when it was really the fault of the owner of the house - the helpful creatures could only stand so much neglect and abuse. Move on to bigger and better things Sam had said and grinned eerily, only eye slitted in a knowing look. Personally, Zeph would rather keep both his eyes intact for the rest of his life, as well as all of his appendages, but that seemed to be more a matter of luck than choice. Or recklessness. He sometimes wondered if some sort of leash would benefit his questionable mentor, or at least reduce the amount of scars and burns on his body, some of which Zeph had the misfortune to witness.
By the time he hiked his way up to the opening in the cliff face, only the last couple of sun beams still strayed in the valley and the wind had picked up more than ever, attempting now to even rip the knapsack from his back. His only hope was that there was no one save perhaps bats living in the cave or he would have to do without warmth, dinner or even the hope of a comfortable sleep this night. The narrow entrance looked deep and dark in the dim light, and he was forced to preemptively light a torch just outside, shielding it from the wind just enough to peek into the cave.
The cave was deeper than he expected, light falling on the opposite wall perhaps fifteen strides away but all seemed empty. No signs of nests or lairs, nor of tunnels leading further into the mountain side. The entrance itself was much narrower than the space it contained, the uneven rocky sides of the cave spanning some ten strides in either direction as well. Nothing could be seen of the ceiling but further back the floor was covered in guano, confirming the presence of bats somewhere up in the darkness. The howling wind echoed in the rock but didn’t enter and he could breathe freely for the first time in a while, now that frozen air wasn’t being shoved into his face or rushing away before he could even take a breath.
Fair enough, he decided, dumping his pack and setting about arranging the various kindling he’d gathered on the way into a viable fire-build before lighting it with the torch. It crackled to life, and slowly grew, consuming the available resource as he carefully aligned some rocks around it. Better safe than burned if the wood decided to collapse. Flames danced merrily on the walls, reflecting off the salted stalagmites that presumably hung from the ceiling although they seemed to emerge from the darkness up above. A glint off to the side and a curious formation of rock salt caught his eye, large and heavy off in the corner. And moving. Uncoiling would be a more fitting term and Zeph stumbled back, tripping over his bag and landing painfully and loudly on the cave floor.
The fire must have woken it. How could he have been so blind as to miss a whole dragon hiding out in the cave? Yet there was no sign of a nest to confirm that he was an idiot even as the piece of rock righted itself into a far more familiar shape. In the half light, the creature was little more than a pair of glowing green eye, firelight glinting off of smooth scales until it breathed in, its belly lighting up with fire on the inside, many times brighter than his own.
Zeph didn’t dare move, just stared back at it. If he ran, he could firstly trip over his own fire and secondly the dragon was guaranteed to release its breath. There was no escape from that fire, not from this close and there would be no bones left to even tell the tale. So he stared, caught between the two flames, marveling as his campfire grew brighter, yellow light reflecting off the pale white scales and the creature was almost fully illuminated. A long neck supported a flattened, cat like head, a wide rounded crest extending from the forehead that rose to perhaps one and a half times his height. A long and graceful body with four lithe legs currently tucked under the large ribcage made up the rest of the beast, a long tail extending back into the darkness. Two green, forward facing almond eyes watched his movements intently, pupils paper thin vertical slits. Was it scared?
This was no dragon’s nest, so much was clear. He would have been fried as soon as stepped in. No, the dragon had been resting or hiding in the cave, the walls of which are rich in minerals and salts to fuel its fire. But why? The dragon rose and the previously hidden wings half unfolded, taking up much of the remaining space. As Zeph scrambled back, it limped heavily forward half a step. It was hurt. Several spears jutted out of its side, darkening it with dried blood, pain dilating the creature’s pupils. An attack then. Now it was truly surprising he wasn’t cooked yet. But clearly the dragon had decided it didn’t care if he was a threat or not and that it was going to fry him anyway. The fire rose up its neck, light starting to escape the line of its mouth.
“No, no, wait! I mean no harm!” He put his hands up, fanning his fingers. Dragons were sapient creatures and many able to understand human speech, if not speak it themselves. It made them more dangerous, if anything, but more reasonable than the more feral creatures. “All I want is a night’s rest and I’ll be gone! I can see you’re hurt and I can help if you spare me!” The dragon drew its head back, narrowing his eyes. It didn’t seem particularly convinced but hadn’t been irked enough to let go of its fire. “I don’t have any weapons! I can’t possibly hurt you while you, in all regard, can kill me in seconds. But I can help you heal.”
The glowing green slits considered him for a moment more, a moment that stretched out into what seemed like minutes until the fire slowly died down inside the creature and he breathed a loud sigh of relief only to give a yell as strong jaws snapped closed only half a foot away. With that threat and a snort of black smoke the dragon turned, curling back up on itself. It was clearly not accepting any help. At least it allowed him to stay.
Well, that was its loss then. Zeph slowly wiped the sweat off his forehead, watching if perhaps the thing would change its mind. The movement got no response and he carefully inched around his fire, dragging his pack to the other side. He really didn’t have much of an appetite anymore…
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The next day, it rained. The wind had died but water poured in sheets from the overhanging clouds. There was no way Zeph could leave, not unless he wanted to contract pneumonia and die somewhere in a puddle. He spent all morning casting anxious glances at the resting dragon, fiddling with his pack and poking at the dying embers of the fire but it didn’t seem to acknowledge his continued presence. After a while, when he found the guts to get near the beast, he saw that it was shivering, scales rippling down its body, condensation flickering in the hazy light. That couldn’t be good, not for a creature that generated its own fire.
Well, he wasn’t dead yet, it had to count for something. “Hey,” Zeph brushed his hand along the scales earning himself half a heart attack when the dragon jolted under him. “Hey, look, you’re sick,” he put his hand back down, brushing away another layer of dew. “I can help you. Please, let me help.” The dragon’s head rose to look at him, eyes duller than the night before, pupils barely even there and it tried to stand only to collapse in a heap again. “Please?”
A weak huff of smoke and the creature uncoiled fully, rolling over onto its back, then its side, exposing its belly and the spear shafts still wedged in its side. The wood all had bite marks - it must have tried to pull them out but the angle had been wrong and it only caused itself more pain. Now its breath was raspy and it barely moved but for an erratic cough that sent fresh blood flowing from the wounds. Who knows how much blood had already been lost. It seemed to have given up on staying alive or else he probably wouldn’t even be here, brushing his hands along damp scales.
“This will hurt,” he ventured, keeping an eye on the beast and bracing a foot on its stomach as he wrapped his hands around the first spear. One solid pull later, it was free, yet the dragon seemed to not even notice. Once the second was out, its breathing became more measured but little else changed. It took him a little less than an hour to dig out the various arrowheads still stuck in the thick hide yet it still barely moved. Not a very good sign.
He relit his fire before yanking a thick cloak from his pack and running out into the rain. Perhaps there was something in this valley that would work as a salve. When he came back, perhaps two hours later and soaked to the bone but with a handful of herbs, the only change was that the dragon was closer to the fire, stretched out in a semicircle around it. He shed off his sodden clothes in exchange for the spare pants he’d brought along, laying them out to dry on the other side of the fire. He was still shivering and the cave was cold, but it was better than wet clothes.
No one taught him first aid for a dragon, of course, that was a skill for dragon riders exclusively, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t try. The least he could do was disinfect the wounds and try to keep down the swelling. St. John’s Wort and calendula were basic for that sort of thing, but he had grabbed some sage and arnica as well as dragon’s root. Who knew, maybe they would help. Or perhaps they were named solely for their appearance. He ground the flowers and leaves together in his wooden bowl before gathering some rainwater and setting it above the fire.
Still there was no movement from the dragon. He could still see breathing and fresh blood still glinted in the fire light but for the several minutes that he sat in silent observation it made no move to awake. And this was the creature that had scared him witless only just last night with a ruthless display of power. Sigh and he scooted over, pressing the palm of his hand to its forehead. Its tail snapped up abruptly and it finally opened its eyes, even as he snatched his hand away. Still clammy but at least it was awake.
“How do you feel?” Pupils were at least visible again and it snorted halfheartedly at him. “Not well enough to kill me yet, I see.” Another snort. “I’m sure you could if you put your mind to it. Now hold still.” It obliged him at least that, and he carefully spread the warm salve around the wounds before stretching cloth against them, giving up on trying to get the dragon up for enough time to tie it. “That’s all I can do. But it’s better than nothing. See, you already have enough strength to growl.” He brushed his palm against the crest and got a face full of smoke for his efforts. “So much affection, please don’t start bringing me dead things.”
He laughed, then stopped abruptly, looking down on the thing as it tucked its head under its paw to sleep. He’d set out only days ago from a mundane existence with little hope that anything at all would come of him. Now, he was nowhere near his destination and caring for a beast that would sooner kill and eat him than look at him. A sigh and he migrated to the other side of the fire to his pack, pulling out his already tattered journal.
He’d spent months gathering even vaguely useful information on any creatures he had ever encountered and those he was likely to run into. Perhaps it wasn’t complete, but there was only so much information available in… well, in anywhere that wasn’t Crossmolina, and that was probably another week’s trek from Glenties. So, the leather-bound tome might have been slim, half full, and close to start of its journey of fall apart, but it was the only place he could really turn to for answers.
Flipping through it, he stopped at the page marked ‘Dragons’ in a messy scrawl, skimming down the page. It listed the known types and their characteristics, yet nothing quite like the one asleep across from him. There were white dragons that were fire breathers, ones with crests, with wings, with four legs but there were the little discrepancies that just didn’t add up. It could be one of the rarer types but he didn’t have enough information on those to begin with. Most dragons showed accelerated healing abilities, recovering from almost fatal wounds within the span of 24 hours. All were extremely intelligent and many possessed powers that belied their appearance and which made them exceedingly dangerous. Another sigh and he snapped it shut. This was pointless and he was useless. Perhaps he’d be dead in the morning. Perhaps not. Leaving in the rain and dark could cost him his life. Staying could do so as well. He chose the more comfortable and less miserable option and started making some much needed dinner.
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For all his bravado, he didn’t sleep well at all. Tossing and turning and waking up to stoke the fire and drag his still damp clothes on top of him as some sort of protection from the cold, he was exhausted when he finally opened his eyes. Only to be surprised that the dragon was gone and his clothes were, well, rather crispy and stiff. Something smelled like singed hair and smoke. How did he not wake up for that? And not to mention he’d had the strangest dreams, including that it wasn’t a dragon sleeping across from him but a blonde haired man, well that couldn’t be right.
Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, looking around. No sign of anything or anyone. For all he knew that whole thing had been a dream, if not for the disconcerting smell and the salve bowl sitting near his feet with its slowly drying contents. Well, he was alive, that had to count for something. The thing had probably left as soon as it could move, which wasn’t surprising. Breakfast, then, breakfast sounded good. That is, if he had anything left. Perhaps he’d find some berries or nuts in the valley as he went.
The air was warm and the wind was gone as the sun crawled slowly up from the horizon somewhere on the other side of the mountains behind him. The opposite range was already half alight with gold, reflecting enough light to see by, making it around 10 in the morning. He should get going. Zeph ventured out of the cave, boots sliding on the still stone outside. Forget dragons, it was surprising that he didn’t get himself killed by his own stupidity in the rain. He was halfway to the tree line when someone stepped out.
“Hello.” Blonde, pale and stark naked, clear traces of healed scars marks running along his flank, green, green eyes, and Zeph stopped in his tracks abruptly. Oh, no. Now he was really dead. “Funny how you’re more afraid of me human than as a dragon. I wonder why that is.” Now he was actively backtracking, slipping on stone and grass. A dragon shapeshifter, of all the things he had happened upon in the past this was the worst. No one had ever who had ever encountered one returned quite whole nor did they ever want to speak of it again. There were only rumors about their sort and none of them were very heartening. “Oh, there’s no reason to be afraid, you saved my life, didn’t you? It wouldn’t be very fitting repayment if I just killed you, would it?”
“You’d rather torture me before hand?”
The man- the dragon chuckled. “So pessimistic. But, no, not that. You did say not to bring you dead things, I’m not sure why (but perhaps so you can kill it yourself, although I’m not clear as to why you’d enjoy that, it takes away a large part of the thrill of the hunt), so I thought you would enjoy a live hare instead. You hadn’t eaten much yesterday, you must be starved.” He hadn’t noticed before but there was indeed a rabbit sitting in the crook of the… thing’s arm, placidly looking around, whiskers twitching lamely. No..!
Yet now he was unafraid. Every fiber of his being was straining to run and hide, to get away from this place as soon as possible but his mind was unable to move his body to do so. Then even his heartbeat slowed and each muscle relaxed as he took a seat on the wet grass, blinking wearily up at the man. The rabbit had started struggling again in his grip. Hypnosis, his mind thought frantically. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to even blink or stop looking into glowing green.
“There, that’s better. My name is Kogi, so you can stop calling me ‘thing’ and ‘dragon’. I won’t kill you and I’m going to release you in a bit, not fully, mind, but I’d rather there be no screaming.” Slowly, his muscles awoke but whatever urgency he had in his mind didn’t translate at all.
He could read minds?? A fire breathing, mind reading, shapeshifter dragon. He was so screwed.
“In a sense.” Kogi gripped the hare by its ears this time and looked at it - it stopped struggling almost instantly. “But wouldn’t you like to know the extent of that power. A fascinating book you have, by the way, not enough information by far and what’s in there is quite outdated. Up you go.” He was pushed upright, blinking owlishly and following along, back to the cave, tugged by his wrist. Apparently partial hypnosis didn’t need a direct gaze. More’s the pity. “But aren’t you quick on your feet. That’s true, I don’t need to be staring at you the whole time for this to work. In you go.”
He was shoved into the cave and Kogi restarted the fire with barely a breath before placing the hare on the ground. In that instant he felt a small lift of the hypnosis but then it was back again and his brain hard at work. The hapless animal wasn’t moving at all, not even breathing. “I stopped his heart, if you must know. I wasn’t going to tell you, but your mind might just overexert itself without me lifting a finger to help it. And I don’t particularly like humans under my full control. No fun that way, you see, just limp and mindless sheep.”
None of this conversation was making him feel any more secure and safe. Zeph made sure to think that extra loudly.
“You can talk, you know. And I wasn’t trying to make you comfortable. A healthy dose of fear does prevent a human from doing things that can’t be predicted. But you should be thanking me, I’m organizing a whole meal for you, on top of not actually killing you. I thought it was quite thoughtful. And I had the luck to happen upon a herd of deer in the interim. So you have nothing to fear from me. Almost.” He was on the other end of a tight lipped smile.
“I’ve… I’ve never known that dragons are very social creatures.” Zeph ventured hesitantly. “I thought that they were quite solitary and actually rather violent to those who imposed on their territory, not keen to keep anyone around or woo them. With food or anything else.” Zeph found himself able to fold his arms. He couldn’t even feel the effects anymore, except that irrational calm and if thought to turn around and leave, everything dissolves into a green haze. Not very subtle. “What do you want from me? If you want me to leave, I suggest you let me do so, or else you’ll be stuck with me for yet another night.” The hare, however, now skinned and gutted with alarming precision and roasting slowly over the fire was making his underfed stomach growl.
“I have my reasons,” is the only cryptic answer he got.
“Alright, my mortal peril aside, are you human or dragon, or something in-between?”
The green eyed gaze was thoughtful now. “I was born with both these forms. I spend half of my time in each. Reproduction is possible, however does not typically create offspring with the talent for magic or shapeshifting even if they do possess violent proclivities. I do not, however, adhere to your customs nor do I typically involve myself in human affairs.”
“And you also abhor clothes I see.”
“Is it distracting you?” He stood from his crouched position by the fire to insert himself into Zeph’s personal space, staring up at him.
“No… Maybe. You are really short.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
He had been traveling for a week now, heading south, and there was still a several days’ journey ahead until he reached Derreen. From then on he could at least hitch rides from local farmers heading to Glenties, instead of all of this infernal walking. He sighed, fingering the letter of recommendation tucked into the chest pocket of his tunic, wondering if any of this was really worth it. It wasn’t the walking that even bothered him so much but to make the hundred league journey to the city just to be rejected from the tamer’s guild. What did it even matter if he was in a guild or not, he knew enough about kelpies and harpies and manticores and dragons and hippocamps and hippogryffs and even unicorns and caladrii and sirin to correctly assess and remove a threat or at least prevent any of the humans affected from getting killed by their own stupidity. He spent enough time both at the library and in the forest to prove it.
It was, however, a thankless job chasing around brownies that got too mischievous for their own good. Especially when it was really the fault of the owner of the house - the helpful creatures could only stand so much neglect and abuse. Move on to bigger and better things Sam had said and grinned eerily, only eye slitted in a knowing look. Personally, Zeph would rather keep both his eyes intact for the rest of his life, as well as all of his appendages, but that seemed to be more a matter of luck than choice. Or recklessness. He sometimes wondered if some sort of leash would benefit his questionable mentor, or at least reduce the amount of scars and burns on his body, some of which Zeph had the misfortune to witness.
By the time he hiked his way up to the opening in the cliff face, only the last couple of sun beams still strayed in the valley and the wind had picked up more than ever, attempting now to even rip the knapsack from his back. His only hope was that there was no one save perhaps bats living in the cave or he would have to do without warmth, dinner or even the hope of a comfortable sleep this night. The narrow entrance looked deep and dark in the dim light, and he was forced to preemptively light a torch just outside, shielding it from the wind just enough to peek into the cave.
The cave was deeper than he expected, light falling on the opposite wall perhaps fifteen strides away but all seemed empty. No signs of nests or lairs, nor of tunnels leading further into the mountain side. The entrance itself was much narrower than the space it contained, the uneven rocky sides of the cave spanning some ten strides in either direction as well. Nothing could be seen of the ceiling but further back the floor was covered in guano, confirming the presence of bats somewhere up in the darkness. The howling wind echoed in the rock but didn’t enter and he could breathe freely for the first time in a while, now that frozen air wasn’t being shoved into his face or rushing away before he could even take a breath.
Fair enough, he decided, dumping his pack and setting about arranging the various kindling he’d gathered on the way into a viable fire-build before lighting it with the torch. It crackled to life, and slowly grew, consuming the available resource as he carefully aligned some rocks around it. Better safe than burned if the wood decided to collapse. Flames danced merrily on the walls, reflecting off the salted stalagmites that presumably hung from the ceiling although they seemed to emerge from the darkness up above. A glint off to the side and a curious formation of rock salt caught his eye, large and heavy off in the corner. And moving. Uncoiling would be a more fitting term and Zeph stumbled back, tripping over his bag and landing painfully and loudly on the cave floor.
The fire must have woken it. How could he have been so blind as to miss a whole dragon hiding out in the cave? Yet there was no sign of a nest to confirm that he was an idiot even as the piece of rock righted itself into a far more familiar shape. In the half light, the creature was little more than a pair of glowing green eye, firelight glinting off of smooth scales until it breathed in, its belly lighting up with fire on the inside, many times brighter than his own.
Zeph didn’t dare move, just stared back at it. If he ran, he could firstly trip over his own fire and secondly the dragon was guaranteed to release its breath. There was no escape from that fire, not from this close and there would be no bones left to even tell the tale. So he stared, caught between the two flames, marveling as his campfire grew brighter, yellow light reflecting off the pale white scales and the creature was almost fully illuminated. A long neck supported a flattened, cat like head, a wide rounded crest extending from the forehead that rose to perhaps one and a half times his height. A long and graceful body with four lithe legs currently tucked under the large ribcage made up the rest of the beast, a long tail extending back into the darkness. Two green, forward facing almond eyes watched his movements intently, pupils paper thin vertical slits. Was it scared?
This was no dragon’s nest, so much was clear. He would have been fried as soon as stepped in. No, the dragon had been resting or hiding in the cave, the walls of which are rich in minerals and salts to fuel its fire. But why? The dragon rose and the previously hidden wings half unfolded, taking up much of the remaining space. As Zeph scrambled back, it limped heavily forward half a step. It was hurt. Several spears jutted out of its side, darkening it with dried blood, pain dilating the creature’s pupils. An attack then. Now it was truly surprising he wasn’t cooked yet. But clearly the dragon had decided it didn’t care if he was a threat or not and that it was going to fry him anyway. The fire rose up its neck, light starting to escape the line of its mouth.
“No, no, wait! I mean no harm!” He put his hands up, fanning his fingers. Dragons were sapient creatures and many able to understand human speech, if not speak it themselves. It made them more dangerous, if anything, but more reasonable than the more feral creatures. “All I want is a night’s rest and I’ll be gone! I can see you’re hurt and I can help if you spare me!” The dragon drew its head back, narrowing his eyes. It didn’t seem particularly convinced but hadn’t been irked enough to let go of its fire. “I don’t have any weapons! I can’t possibly hurt you while you, in all regard, can kill me in seconds. But I can help you heal.”
The glowing green slits considered him for a moment more, a moment that stretched out into what seemed like minutes until the fire slowly died down inside the creature and he breathed a loud sigh of relief only to give a yell as strong jaws snapped closed only half a foot away. With that threat and a snort of black smoke the dragon turned, curling back up on itself. It was clearly not accepting any help. At least it allowed him to stay.
Well, that was its loss then. Zeph slowly wiped the sweat off his forehead, watching if perhaps the thing would change its mind. The movement got no response and he carefully inched around his fire, dragging his pack to the other side. He really didn’t have much of an appetite anymore…
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The next day, it rained. The wind had died but water poured in sheets from the overhanging clouds. There was no way Zeph could leave, not unless he wanted to contract pneumonia and die somewhere in a puddle. He spent all morning casting anxious glances at the resting dragon, fiddling with his pack and poking at the dying embers of the fire but it didn’t seem to acknowledge his continued presence. After a while, when he found the guts to get near the beast, he saw that it was shivering, scales rippling down its body, condensation flickering in the hazy light. That couldn’t be good, not for a creature that generated its own fire.
Well, he wasn’t dead yet, it had to count for something. “Hey,” Zeph brushed his hand along the scales earning himself half a heart attack when the dragon jolted under him. “Hey, look, you’re sick,” he put his hand back down, brushing away another layer of dew. “I can help you. Please, let me help.” The dragon’s head rose to look at him, eyes duller than the night before, pupils barely even there and it tried to stand only to collapse in a heap again. “Please?”
A weak huff of smoke and the creature uncoiled fully, rolling over onto its back, then its side, exposing its belly and the spear shafts still wedged in its side. The wood all had bite marks - it must have tried to pull them out but the angle had been wrong and it only caused itself more pain. Now its breath was raspy and it barely moved but for an erratic cough that sent fresh blood flowing from the wounds. Who knows how much blood had already been lost. It seemed to have given up on staying alive or else he probably wouldn’t even be here, brushing his hands along damp scales.
“This will hurt,” he ventured, keeping an eye on the beast and bracing a foot on its stomach as he wrapped his hands around the first spear. One solid pull later, it was free, yet the dragon seemed to not even notice. Once the second was out, its breathing became more measured but little else changed. It took him a little less than an hour to dig out the various arrowheads still stuck in the thick hide yet it still barely moved. Not a very good sign.
He relit his fire before yanking a thick cloak from his pack and running out into the rain. Perhaps there was something in this valley that would work as a salve. When he came back, perhaps two hours later and soaked to the bone but with a handful of herbs, the only change was that the dragon was closer to the fire, stretched out in a semicircle around it. He shed off his sodden clothes in exchange for the spare pants he’d brought along, laying them out to dry on the other side of the fire. He was still shivering and the cave was cold, but it was better than wet clothes.
No one taught him first aid for a dragon, of course, that was a skill for dragon riders exclusively, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t try. The least he could do was disinfect the wounds and try to keep down the swelling. St. John’s Wort and calendula were basic for that sort of thing, but he had grabbed some sage and arnica as well as dragon’s root. Who knew, maybe they would help. Or perhaps they were named solely for their appearance. He ground the flowers and leaves together in his wooden bowl before gathering some rainwater and setting it above the fire.
Still there was no movement from the dragon. He could still see breathing and fresh blood still glinted in the fire light but for the several minutes that he sat in silent observation it made no move to awake. And this was the creature that had scared him witless only just last night with a ruthless display of power. Sigh and he scooted over, pressing the palm of his hand to its forehead. Its tail snapped up abruptly and it finally opened its eyes, even as he snatched his hand away. Still clammy but at least it was awake.
“How do you feel?” Pupils were at least visible again and it snorted halfheartedly at him. “Not well enough to kill me yet, I see.” Another snort. “I’m sure you could if you put your mind to it. Now hold still.” It obliged him at least that, and he carefully spread the warm salve around the wounds before stretching cloth against them, giving up on trying to get the dragon up for enough time to tie it. “That’s all I can do. But it’s better than nothing. See, you already have enough strength to growl.” He brushed his palm against the crest and got a face full of smoke for his efforts. “So much affection, please don’t start bringing me dead things.”
He laughed, then stopped abruptly, looking down on the thing as it tucked its head under its paw to sleep. He’d set out only days ago from a mundane existence with little hope that anything at all would come of him. Now, he was nowhere near his destination and caring for a beast that would sooner kill and eat him than look at him. A sigh and he migrated to the other side of the fire to his pack, pulling out his already tattered journal.
He’d spent months gathering even vaguely useful information on any creatures he had ever encountered and those he was likely to run into. Perhaps it wasn’t complete, but there was only so much information available in… well, in anywhere that wasn’t Crossmolina, and that was probably another week’s trek from Glenties. So, the leather-bound tome might have been slim, half full, and close to start of its journey of fall apart, but it was the only place he could really turn to for answers.
Flipping through it, he stopped at the page marked ‘Dragons’ in a messy scrawl, skimming down the page. It listed the known types and their characteristics, yet nothing quite like the one asleep across from him. There were white dragons that were fire breathers, ones with crests, with wings, with four legs but there were the little discrepancies that just didn’t add up. It could be one of the rarer types but he didn’t have enough information on those to begin with. Most dragons showed accelerated healing abilities, recovering from almost fatal wounds within the span of 24 hours. All were extremely intelligent and many possessed powers that belied their appearance and which made them exceedingly dangerous. Another sigh and he snapped it shut. This was pointless and he was useless. Perhaps he’d be dead in the morning. Perhaps not. Leaving in the rain and dark could cost him his life. Staying could do so as well. He chose the more comfortable and less miserable option and started making some much needed dinner.
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For all his bravado, he didn’t sleep well at all. Tossing and turning and waking up to stoke the fire and drag his still damp clothes on top of him as some sort of protection from the cold, he was exhausted when he finally opened his eyes. Only to be surprised that the dragon was gone and his clothes were, well, rather crispy and stiff. Something smelled like singed hair and smoke. How did he not wake up for that? And not to mention he’d had the strangest dreams, including that it wasn’t a dragon sleeping across from him but a blonde haired man, well that couldn’t be right.
Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, looking around. No sign of anything or anyone. For all he knew that whole thing had been a dream, if not for the disconcerting smell and the salve bowl sitting near his feet with its slowly drying contents. Well, he was alive, that had to count for something. The thing had probably left as soon as it could move, which wasn’t surprising. Breakfast, then, breakfast sounded good. That is, if he had anything left. Perhaps he’d find some berries or nuts in the valley as he went.
The air was warm and the wind was gone as the sun crawled slowly up from the horizon somewhere on the other side of the mountains behind him. The opposite range was already half alight with gold, reflecting enough light to see by, making it around 10 in the morning. He should get going. Zeph ventured out of the cave, boots sliding on the still stone outside. Forget dragons, it was surprising that he didn’t get himself killed by his own stupidity in the rain. He was halfway to the tree line when someone stepped out.
“Hello.” Blonde, pale and stark naked, clear traces of healed scars marks running along his flank, green, green eyes, and Zeph stopped in his tracks abruptly. Oh, no. Now he was really dead. “Funny how you’re more afraid of me human than as a dragon. I wonder why that is.” Now he was actively backtracking, slipping on stone and grass. A dragon shapeshifter, of all the things he had happened upon in the past this was the worst. No one had ever who had ever encountered one returned quite whole nor did they ever want to speak of it again. There were only rumors about their sort and none of them were very heartening. “Oh, there’s no reason to be afraid, you saved my life, didn’t you? It wouldn’t be very fitting repayment if I just killed you, would it?”
“You’d rather torture me before hand?”
The man- the dragon chuckled. “So pessimistic. But, no, not that. You did say not to bring you dead things, I’m not sure why (but perhaps so you can kill it yourself, although I’m not clear as to why you’d enjoy that, it takes away a large part of the thrill of the hunt), so I thought you would enjoy a live hare instead. You hadn’t eaten much yesterday, you must be starved.” He hadn’t noticed before but there was indeed a rabbit sitting in the crook of the… thing’s arm, placidly looking around, whiskers twitching lamely. No..!
Yet now he was unafraid. Every fiber of his being was straining to run and hide, to get away from this place as soon as possible but his mind was unable to move his body to do so. Then even his heartbeat slowed and each muscle relaxed as he took a seat on the wet grass, blinking wearily up at the man. The rabbit had started struggling again in his grip. Hypnosis, his mind thought frantically. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to even blink or stop looking into glowing green.
“There, that’s better. My name is Kogi, so you can stop calling me ‘thing’ and ‘dragon’. I won’t kill you and I’m going to release you in a bit, not fully, mind, but I’d rather there be no screaming.” Slowly, his muscles awoke but whatever urgency he had in his mind didn’t translate at all.
He could read minds?? A fire breathing, mind reading, shapeshifter dragon. He was so screwed.
“In a sense.” Kogi gripped the hare by its ears this time and looked at it - it stopped struggling almost instantly. “But wouldn’t you like to know the extent of that power. A fascinating book you have, by the way, not enough information by far and what’s in there is quite outdated. Up you go.” He was pushed upright, blinking owlishly and following along, back to the cave, tugged by his wrist. Apparently partial hypnosis didn’t need a direct gaze. More’s the pity. “But aren’t you quick on your feet. That’s true, I don’t need to be staring at you the whole time for this to work. In you go.”
He was shoved into the cave and Kogi restarted the fire with barely a breath before placing the hare on the ground. In that instant he felt a small lift of the hypnosis but then it was back again and his brain hard at work. The hapless animal wasn’t moving at all, not even breathing. “I stopped his heart, if you must know. I wasn’t going to tell you, but your mind might just overexert itself without me lifting a finger to help it. And I don’t particularly like humans under my full control. No fun that way, you see, just limp and mindless sheep.”
None of this conversation was making him feel any more secure and safe. Zeph made sure to think that extra loudly.
“You can talk, you know. And I wasn’t trying to make you comfortable. A healthy dose of fear does prevent a human from doing things that can’t be predicted. But you should be thanking me, I’m organizing a whole meal for you, on top of not actually killing you. I thought it was quite thoughtful. And I had the luck to happen upon a herd of deer in the interim. So you have nothing to fear from me. Almost.” He was on the other end of a tight lipped smile.
“I’ve… I’ve never known that dragons are very social creatures.” Zeph ventured hesitantly. “I thought that they were quite solitary and actually rather violent to those who imposed on their territory, not keen to keep anyone around or woo them. With food or anything else.” Zeph found himself able to fold his arms. He couldn’t even feel the effects anymore, except that irrational calm and if thought to turn around and leave, everything dissolves into a green haze. Not very subtle. “What do you want from me? If you want me to leave, I suggest you let me do so, or else you’ll be stuck with me for yet another night.” The hare, however, now skinned and gutted with alarming precision and roasting slowly over the fire was making his underfed stomach growl.
“I have my reasons,” is the only cryptic answer he got.
“Alright, my mortal peril aside, are you human or dragon, or something in-between?”
The green eyed gaze was thoughtful now. “I was born with both these forms. I spend half of my time in each. Reproduction is possible, however does not typically create offspring with the talent for magic or shapeshifting even if they do possess violent proclivities. I do not, however, adhere to your customs nor do I typically involve myself in human affairs.”
“And you also abhor clothes I see.”
“Is it distracting you?” He stood from his crouched position by the fire to insert himself into Zeph’s personal space, staring up at him.
“No… Maybe. You are really short.”
“Don’t change the subject.”