© Avalon Lee, 2014. All Rights Reserved.

Okay, it's my turn.

Fine, you impatient reptile.

Impatient? I've been very patient while you told your part. Besides, this is about where I meet you in the story.

Don't give it away!

Then let me tell it.

I never thought I'd hear a dragon use a whiney voice.

I was not whining! I swear I'm about to burn you to a crisp, you little magpie.

You wouldn't.

Yes, I would! I am a scary, ferocious dragon who . . . okay, fine. I wouldn't.

You big softie.

On with the story!

~~~

I felt the wind rush past my wings as I flew ever upward, reveling in the freedom of flight. I opened my eyes as I finally stopped beating my wings. I slowed to a stop and hung in the air, weightless, for an eternity. Then, the pull of gravity returned as I arced toward the earth below.

The slow-motion I had seemed to be trapped in was shattered as I dove to the ground. I grinned, baring my sharp fangs. I fell faster and faster, and yet I felt no fear; only excitement. I was a creature of the sky, a hunter of flame and tooth and claw. All feared me, and I feared none.

The hard earth drew perilously closer, and still I did not pull up. Wait for it . . . NOW! I snapped out my wings, feeling the burning strain in my muscles, and miraculously did not crash head-first into the dirt. Instead, I swooped back up to the sun. I let out a roar of jubilation, most likely scaring the earth-bound-creatures out of their wits. I smirked. I couldn't help but show off sometimes—but only a little.

Luckily for me, I was flying over an uninhabited forest. Well, a forest uninhabited by two-legs. Two-legs were dangerous animals. They looked like no other animal any dragon had seen before, according to the stories. They were small, and rather fragile. But they were smart—very smart. With their strange little paws, they could create things the likes of which no dragon could imagine. It was these knick-knacks that made them so dangerous. Kill-sticks, shoot-kill-sticks, and rock-throwers could easily down a dragon. The first thing every dragon learned as a hatchling—two-legs were not to be trusted.

The only contact most dragons had with two-legs was during attacks. The elders liked to recount stories of how the Dragon War had started. I never really listened, but what they mostly said was that in the time of the first dragons, there was a terrible tragedy caused by the two-legs that all the dragons avenged with war. And around the time of my hatching, yet another tragedy had occurred. Unfortunately, we found out that the two-legs were really, really stubborn, and they refused to give up. Stubborn to the point of suicidal stupidity. The only advantages they had were their kill-things and sheer numbers. Dragons have never been very common, living in scattered clans. So the War continued on and on, to this day.

I was now gliding lazily, skimming the tree tops. I turned my head and spotted the two-leg-stone-hold in the distance. I had learned the hard way never to go near there. It was where the two-leg King resided. He was known to all dragons as the Evil One, for truly his heart was evil and cold as stone. His real name was unknown; no dragon had ever bothered to learn it. He was the most dangerous of the two-legs, as he would no sooner look at a dragon than kill it.

However, when I was a hatchling, news came to the dragons of the Evil One's offspring. Fear filled every one of our species, for the child would undoubtedly be as merciless as its father. And now, the hatchling would be nearly full-grown, and had had fourteen springs to be trained by its father.

Just the thought of the Evil One's twisted heir made me want to burn down a village . . . or something. I couldn't go near the stone-hold, as I would probably never come back.

I growled out loud. A sharp pain in my paws made me look down. I had unknowingly been clenching them into fists, impaling myself with my own claws. The pain only made me angrier. Smoke billowed out of my nostrils. I closed my eyes and inhaled, trying to stay calm. Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't—

My eyes opened abruptly as something grazed my wing. A branch? I was flying too low! Any lower and—I let out a panicked roar as I flew high speed into the forest. Branches whipped at my face, more annoying than painful. My scales protected me from injury. I desperately back-winged, not wanting to—crash. I collided with a tree. The tree gave way and toppled down at the impact, taking me with it. I landed with a dull thud in a tangle of wings and claws. I got to my feet and shook myself indignantly. I glared at the object of my aggravation with seething hatred.

A trilling sound drew my attention away from the guilty tree. A squirrel was sitting on a tree branch, squeaking hysterically. It had apparently witnessed the whole debacle, and now was . . . laughing? The little rodent was laughing at me, a dragon!

"THAT IS IT!" I roared, enraged that I was being mocked by prey. I focused all of my frustration on the offending tree in front of me and inhaled. With a thunderous bellow, I opened my jaws and exhaled, blasting the tree to oblivion with my fire. Once the stream of flames weakened, I clamped my mouth shut and studied the smoldering tree. It was smoking and crackling slightly with flame. I turned away from it with a satisfied snort.

"Got that out of your system?" asked a voice. Startled, I wheeled around to find myself face to face with my clan leader and uncle, Myanor.

"It . . . irritated me," I explained. My argument sounded weak in my own ears. The golden dragon raised an eyebrow.

"You were the one who crashed into it. If anything, the tree should be the one who is 'irritated.'" His laughter rumbled lowly, echoing through the forest.

I rolled my eyes and averted my gaze, finding no argument.

"Aren't you supposed to be patrolling?" he asked.

"I was! At least until I saw the stone-hold, and—"

Myanor's eyes widened, and his slitted pupils narrowed further. "You didn't approach it, did you?" he growled.

"No, of course not! The thought of that place and its two-leg coward made me . . . angry, and I didn't see where I was going." I broke off, feeling my emotions rise once more.

"Your anger is understandable, Rokevir. Our clan has not forgotten what the Evil One took from you." My uncle gave me a sympathetic gaze.

I refused to meet it. I didn't want sympathy; I only wanted revenge. And I would get it by destroying what was most precious to the Evil One: his heir.

"I must return to the clan now," Myanor said, making me look back up at him. "Farewell, Nephew."

"Good bye," I answered. I didn't want to head back just yet. My uncle raised his wings to take off, then paused and turned back to me.

"Try not to burn the forest down while I'm gone, will you?" he said in a dry tone.

"I'll try," I replied with a smile.

Myanor's glare made me bow my head in submission. "Yes, Uncle."

He had taken flight when I raised my head again.

The sound of my stomach growling broke the tranquil silence of the forest. Food . . . I need to hunt, I thought, remembering my last meal being five moons ago. The prospect of fresh prey made me bare my teeth in anticipation. I crouched down, raised my wings and beat down hard, succeeding in a vertical take-off. I was a hunter of the sky once more.

~~~

After eating a rather scrawny deer, I decided to take a nap. I tucked my head under my wing and curled my tail around myself, my eyes drifting shut, visions of delicious prey floating through my mind. Then, I heard it. A tiny sound reached my ears. It was a soft, weeping noise that lamented quietly, and it seemed the forest itself stopped to listen and mourn. My first reaction was annoyance: I was trying to sleep, and this accursed noise was refusing to let me! If it continues, they will suffer a dragon's wrath, I thought, closing my eyes. The little sniffling continued. I felt a pang of pity in my heart; the sound was so sorrowful.

Growling, I heaved myself to my feet, reasoning that I may as well find out what was creating the disturbance.

The sound slowly grew louder as I approached. It seemed unnatural—it didn't belong with the noises of the forest. Cautious now, I attempted to walk quietly: a difficult task for a dragon. What met my eyes made me stop in my tracks, and freeze instinctively.

A small, peculiar creature was curled up at the base of a tree, making strangely sad sniffling noises. I had never heard anything like it before. I cocked my head at her—my sense of smell told me it was a female—and felt my heart stop when she raised her head and looked at me.

The first thing I noticed was her eyes—one green, and one blue. I had never seen such eyes. They were wide and shiny with . . . water? Were her eyes leaking? She had long, black head-fur that was held back by a silver band. Slowly, my mind registered what I was staring at—a two-leg!

I felt my pity dissipate and be replaced by confusion. Two-legs were supposed to fear dragons. Yet this one gazed not with fear, but with curiosity. Her eyes were dull with sadness, but still held a spark of hope. I growled, my fear making me sound harsher than I meant to be.

The female blinked, not affected by the sound at all. Now, I was really baffled. I growled again. No reaction. Then, I realized that when I had been walking, I must a made a good deal of noise, despite my attempts to be stealthy. The two-leg hadn't noticed me until I had entered her field of vision.

Can two-legs . . . hear? I wondered. Or is this one different?

I decided to try something. "Who are you?" I asked, voicing my mental sentence clearly, and trying to sound nonthreatening.

 The female's reaction was immediate. She sat bolt upright and looked around wildly, searching for the source. Slowly, her gaze met mine.

A single word rang clear in my head. "How?"

Now it was my turn to be surprised. Two-legs can use the mind-speak?

I recalled my suspicions about her apparent lack of hearing. If she couldn't hear, then language would be a whole new experience for her.

"Dragons speak from the heart, not from their mouths," I answered.

The female's brilliant eyes widened, and I thought that she had finally realized what I was, and was going to run off, like all the two-legs did.

The two-leg cocked her head in a surprisingly dragon-like way. "What is a dragon?" she asked.

How can she not know what a dragon is? She's talking to one right now! I was completely and hopelessly bewildered.

"I am a dragon," I said. "Why aren't you afraid of me?"

The girl laughed, a beautiful sound that put the songs of birds to shame. "Why should I be?" she asked. "You haven't done anything to me."

"Well, yes, b-but I'm a dragon! The terrifying monster that two-legs fear! And hate . . ." I murmured the last sentence, dejection in my voice. "Don't your kind tell stories of us?"

The female's expression saddened, and I immediately regretted what I had said.

"If my people do tell stories, then I never hear them. Or . . . anything, for that matter. I have never seen nor heard of dragons." Her voice suddenly filled with strength. "But from what I see before me, you are no monster."

"You are not like other two-legs," I mused. "Who are you?" I repeated my original question.

She hesitated, then answered simply, "I am Rowan."

And there's the first chapter from the POV of Rokevir (who, in case you haven't been paying attention, is the dragon)!

Here are some translations of the "dragon language":

Earth-bound-creature: land animal

Two-leg: human

Kill-stick: sword or spear

Shoot-kill-stick: bow

Rock-thrower: catapult

Kill-things: weapons

Two-leg-stone-hold: castle

Head-fur: hair

Until the next chapter,

-Avalon Lee