Dementia
Chapter One
Winter was slowly lifting her mantle from the world, however reluctantly she pulled her skirts from the lowland steeps and the minor hills. Nevertheless, she refused to leave parts of the world, both poles frozen by her permanent residence. Mountains too, housed winter year round, the crowning glory to the heights.
All around, life was returning. Babies were born, and action was taken to hoard food or supply the body with enough fat to survive another winter.
Some slept through the winter, living only off the body fat. Those that didn’t quickly grew thick, double layer fur in order to survive winter’s harsh conditions.
There was a paradox, however.
Two creatures did not sleep through winter, nor did they have much in the way of fur. The one species was large enough, with enough insulating fat and muscle, and active enough, to survive the harsh time. The other? They had learned to turn dead animal skin into clothing.
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Clouds built on the horizon, a dark blur. But it wasn’t only sight that let the young woman know what was coming. Strong winds lifted and tangled her mess of hair, while she stood in a rare clearing. Her nostrils flared, and she backed away into the trees. Turning, she left the same way she arrived, silently.
Nearly bare, the young woman slipped through the woods silently, long practice, and natural instinct coming into play.
Her weak eyes flitted from one tree to the next, noting and placing each rock, each bush and the trees she searched into a mental map in her mind. The dark gloom beneath the heavy branches, nearly interwoven despite having an aversion to touch, hid her as effectively as mud. Only her scent could not be masked by tree shadow, but mud overpowered and changed her scent.
Suddenly pausing, she considered a likely tree, moving forward slowly. Ready to bolt, she sniffed the air, opening her mouth a little. Her taste buds, though not as effective as her nose in recognizing the tastes in the air, helped to paint a picture of the world for the young woman. The faint taste of rot, amplified and affirmed by her nose, was the only thing from the tree. Her ears angled towards the likely spot, catching no breathing noise, no large animal movement. Finally, she looked in through the hole in the tree.
Nothing. She couldn’t see anything. Her ears, nose and finally her eyes had never failed her, so she reached in. Her hand encountered nothing but rotting wood. Not sharp teeth bit into her flesh, no pelt brushed her skin. Encouraged, she reached both hands in and felt around.
The space in the tree was small. Though the outside of the tree was still sturdy, rot having yet to affect the hard wood left, the inside crawled with insects that ate wood, or ate the dead wood eaters. Dekani angled an ear towards the storm coming, and dug her nails into a surprisingly tough chunk of rot.
Pulling, she tossed the chunk behind her, reaching in again. Her nails were strong enough to survive the tribulations she put them through, though they chipped and were black with dirt. Dekani didn’t mind though. She barely thought about it. She used her nails, they didn’t break. Thus, she didn’t think much about the hard ends of her fingers, except with surprise when she noticed them. She didn’t notice them often.
Working quickly, she managed to strip the tree of some of its rot. The tree, big enough to house a boulder twice Dekani’s height across, held but a small hole, a cavity near its roots. Still living, the tree would no more be affected by the hole then a bolder would. Eventually it would take its toll, but that would be a long time from Dekani’s lifetime, perhaps longer then three generations later.
Unless winter had her way.
The defining part of life, winter was a temperamental force. She had taken Dekani’s mother from her but a few months ago, having coated the world in white flakes. While Dekani, pale and nearly invisible in the snow, could and did hide, Dekani’s mother stuck out. Where it summer, Dekani might have been the one seen, but winter had decided to storm. The wind had driven her skirts away from a small valley, returning the small crevice to its former brown and gray glory. Angered, winter had raged until the small valley once more gleamed white.
The two women had traveled across the open space. Dekani’s mother, dark brown hair and bronzed skin, had seemed a beacon to one of the sky hunters. Dekani had run and hid, not looking back as the virgin snow turned suddenly red.
Now, Dekani crept into the hole she had created, curling up. Tired, and no longer concerned about the coming storm, she closed her eyes and slept.
The storm had not lived up to its dark promise, becoming little more then a routine spring rain. A little harsh, it barely affected the mountain dwellers. Though an inch of soil was sluiced away, pulled down to the lower levels, the foot hills of the mountain, the residents didn’t much mind. Such things happened no matter the season. Spring rains pounded into the ground, loosening the soil and taking it away. Summer winds and dry heat sucked the moisture away from the edges of forest, while the wind blew the loose soil into or away from the forest. Fall suffered storms similar to spring, while winter froze the soil into a hard, impossible mass.
When Dekani woke, the rain had ended, and twilight was quickly fading into the dark of night. The trees blocked much of the faint light from the stars and moon, but Dekani was used to the dark. She even preferred the time. The harsh light didn’t burn her eyes when it wasn’t there.
Unfolding from her cramped position, she stretched upwards onto her toes. Her jaws stretched almost to dislocation as she yawned. Opening her eyes and closing her mouth, she looked around.
Once again, her nose and taste came into play. A wolf pack had been nearby, but they hadn’t scented her, disguised as she was by the rot. More interested in the flung away chunks from the tree, they had moved on. Their scent would be easy to follow, Dekani knew, but she turned away. She was thirsty, not hungry.
Instead, she walked the way she had come, back towards the small clearing. She didn’t take any particular means to hide her trail, instead concentrating on her thirst and the dry, slightly slimy feel in her mouth. How something could be both dry and slimy at the same time wasn’t thought of. It was just how she was thirsty. Her tongue and roof of her mouth were dry, while her teeth and cheeks were slimy. She was thirsty, and there was water near the small clearing. So she was going to the small clearing, and then to the water, and then she wouldn’t be thirsty anymore.
Now and then she would stop and sniff the air. Interesting scents sometimes caught her attention. A lone deer, possible prey. Maybe she’d hunt it after drinking. The wolf pack, taking even less care to disguise their scent then she. And every now and then she’d be able to scent herself, recognizing it but not aware that it was hers. Still, she didn’t stop and pause the way she did with the other scents, just sniffed and moved on. It said much for her.
The small clearing was reached without trouble, but remembering the way to the small stream was a little harder. The map in her head had to be used backwards then the way she had gone, and while she could do it, it was a struggle. Finally, she started off again, skirting the edge of the clearing, sticking to the shadows under the trees.
Semi familiar shapes began to take shape out of the darkness and faded behind her. The sound of the streamlet reached her ears long before taste and scent came into play. Finally reaching the streamlet was easy, a simple matter of following her senses instead of her mind.
Reaching the streamlet, she crouched down on hands and the balls of her feet. Walking easily that way, she moved out towards the water. Though the trees grew into the streamlet, the young woman was more comfortable approaching the clear water the way she would travel through an open area; with large amounts of caution.
Lowering her head into the water, she sucked water up, her hands bracing against the ground. Lifting her dripping chin, she looked around, her ears twisting around as much as their limited mobility permitted. When no noises reached her, she lowered her head back to the water.
Once she was no longer thirsty, she got back to her feet. She didn’t bother to retrace her steps, tired of traveling to the same place. Striking out, she slunk through the woods. Hunger started to cramp her stomach, though no noise was made. She wasn’t yet that hungry, though her thoughts turned instantly to hunting down food and gorging herself on the dead body.
Maybe she would even stay a few days by the carcass if it was big enough, but then again, she barely got anything bigger then a small goat, or stringy old cat.
Fortunately for the woman, she found edible plants before her stomach started to broadcast its annoyance with her.
Her nails came into play again, ripping up sod and unearthing a few pale, stringy carrots. She kept glancing over her shoulder towards the sky, tense. She had been forced to cross into one of the few sunny patches of the woods, where old trees had fallen and had yet to be replaced. The stringy carrots, once unearthed, were eaten then and there. As soon as the last of her find disappeared, she hurried back into the shelter of the trees.
Prowling, in search of a scent, prey or hunter, she didn’t care, she paused. It wasn’t a meat scent, not one that she associated with meat, but the smell of blood was mixed in the air and she didn’t bother to notice the other, deadlier scent.
Common sense had not abandoned her, no matter her hunger. Pausing, Dekani blinked. The scent of blood was coming from a small clearing, but big enough for tree branches to shy away from crossing the new graveyard.
Edging forward, Dekani dropped to her hands and looked into the moonlit area.
The heavy scent of blood was starting to make her loose common sense, but the visible danger was enough to off set that.
Large, sleek and graceful, the hunter lifted a two-horned head. Its lower jaws would have been stained red, but for the dark.
It had not been hunting because of hunger. Seeing the two legged beings in the clearing that had yet to turn green, or shrink and hide the beings, the hunter had dropped from the sky, lashing out with wing, fangs, claws and tail almost before landing.
Six dead bodies were sprawled about the clearing in various stages of entirety. A few others, mortally wounded, had managed to stumble into the woods a few feet away. All showed some evidence to the arsenal of natural weapons the creature housed.
Hollow bones did nothing to stop the force of the hunter’s blows, the hard scales sharp on their edges. The tail had no room for bone, or nerves. Thin and whip like, there was barely any flesh beyond a few feet, until it thinned down into the deadly blade. Claws were unretractable, but the hunter used them to grip the ground and to hunt and eat.
Seemingly the perfect predator, the dragon stood taller then Dekani at its lower hips. The shoulders were a good two feet higher then the waist, leaving the head to arch up on a serpentine neck, adding yet another three feet to the dragon’s considerable height.
And Dekani was scared.
The dragon spent a few more minutes at the new grave sight, putting Dekani on edge. The young woman dug her fingers into the soft soil, her muscles tense. Fight was impossible, flight poised little hope for survival as well. But the dragon was upwind of the tense woman. The fact was not lost on her, as its scent reached her sensitive nose. In disgust, she curled her upper lip. Rotting flesh was all well and good, but to have it forever on one’s body?
Finally, the dragon left. Rearing up onto its hind legs, it leapt into the air and labored to reach the heights of the skies. Dekani followed it with her eyes, and when it was beyond her sight, and then her hearing, she started out into the clearing.
She remained on all fours, and kept an eye upwards. The first of the dead was near her hiding place, sliced in two. The dragon’s tail had hit the man just above the waist, slicing through him cleanly. Dekani examined the body, barely recognizing the man for a man. She placed her fingers gently on his cold cheek, then leaned forward. There was good flesh there, and, while she thought the others who walked on two legs were smart, she could not comprehend others that thought. She could not comprehend thought itself.
Unaware that she was eating one of her own, and thus crossing a taboo that was far more secular then anything, she sank her teeth into the man’s throat. With an easy motion, she pulled flesh from the man’s chest. Tipping her head back quickly, the dangling meat flicked into her mouth. Not bothering to chew, she swallowed. Her claws quickly stripped the ruined clothing, little more then scraps, from the man’s upper body. Then, digging her claws into and through the man’s skin, she flicked her wrist, exposing the muscle to the air.
Quickly, she finished that body off. The liver was a choice morsel, eaten with small, savoring bites. Then, with much of the body still intact, she moved onto the next one. The shear volume of dead meant she could be picking, eat the best pieces and leave the rest to the other scavengers.
The next three she came upon were eaten much the same way, though they died unlike each other. Fangs had pierced the chest of one woman, another had been hit with an arm, her skull hitting, and thus breaking upon contact with a large rock. The slap itself had not been lethal, but the pieces of bone puncturing the woman’s brain had been. The third had been stepped on. His heart had ruptured.
Dekani was as close to happy as she had been since her mother died. She was quickly getting full by the time she left the clearing, to brows through the dead on the edges under the trees. Those there died because a limb was removed, or major blood vessels had been cut. Now and then, there were those whose limbs had been crushed, and were unable to crawl any further. They were quickly killed by the scavengers, who scattered as Dekani started to strip the bodies from any morsels she liked.
She was about to leave when she heard it. Thin, high, and it called to her. Her stomach was distended, she had no reason to return, except that noise…
It came again, from under a dead woman. She had decided to bypass the woman, full. Confused, she listened again as the thin, warbling cry came from under the woman. How could something half eaten make noise? Reaching one bloodstained hand out, she grasped the woman’s shoulder and flipped the woman over.
Dekani noticed, but didn’t think about, the woman’s heavy breasts. She understood they were swollen with milk, but the connection between the fact and the live, squirming baby on the ground did not happen. The child was there, alive and starting to attract attention. Dekani looked up at a few of the scavengers, mostly birds or small hunters so far, and bared her teeth. The noise the little thing was making interested her, called to her. She wanted it.
Lowering her head down to the baby’s level, she opened her mouth. Gently rolling the baby over onto its stomach, she grasped it gently by its neck and lifted it into the air. Hanging from her jaws, the baby stopped crying. It didn’t have enough air too.
Dekani, unaware of the baby’s predicament, started to walk forward on all fours, almost forgetting about the weight in her jaws.
In fact, she did forget. Her body cried for rest after her meal, and she was all too happy to comply. But first she had to find a den in which to sleep. A few wolves startled her in her search, and she jerked away. A faint snap of bone went unnoticed in the orchestra of growls from the defensive pack. Her jaws clenched at the same time. And since Dekani had eaten something bloody, indeed, several some things, the taste of blood in her mouth did nothing to warn her of what happened. She wanted the baby, wanted to carry it and care for it. The fact that it was dead, indeed, had been dead since its mother’s death, even if it breathed, was not a factor in her reasoning. She wasn’t even aware of her want. She had the baby. That was enough. When she remembered it, she would attempt to feed it. And even if her attempts were unsuccessful, she’d continue to try.
It was almost sad.
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Nakomii didn’t want to leave his den.
But he had too.
But Obelisk was out there. And unlike Nakomii, Obelisk was a strong, handsome and physically correct dragon. Nakomii, he thought to himself, is a freak with twisted limbs, and who spends way too much time in the dark.
Oh, stuff it, he thought irritably. The fact that he was talking to himself only made him want to leave the place more, but not if it meant dealing with Obelisk. That dragon had been sent just to drive him to self killing, Nakomii was sure of it.
Finally giving up against his argument with himself, he edged forward. The light hit him in the eyes, and he raised one malformed paw up to shield his lidless eyes. Laughter to his side proved what he expected, that Obelisk and a few others were watching the little fool struggle with the light.
Pure fluke had caused Nakomii twisted front limbs, and muscles that were almost too much for his hollow bones. But the same hollow bones, and strong wing muscles, made it possible for him to fly. Which wasn’t a bad thing, because, although all the dragons had wings, they all had to struggle to fly, or couldn’t fly at all. Nakomii never had that problem. In the air, he wasn’t malformed, in the air he wasn’t some small weakling. So Nakomii just glared in the direction of the laughter, and leapt into the air. Easily finding a hot spot, a thermal above the warming lake, he laughed to himself. Flying was fun.
His wings stretched bigger, taking him as high as the thermal went. Then he glided out over the mountain, his height significant. The forests were green blurs beneath him, with the occasional lake and more common river, flashes of brilliant blue and light that were gone too soon.
But he wanted to explore. The side of the mountain range he flew over was familiar, known to him. Nothing new could be gained by gliding over the forested land and upper plains. Not when he knew much of it.
The fact that Nakomii thought he knew more about the mountain then anyone was wrong, though he didn’t know how wrong. Everything changed in nature, from the seasons passing to storms or droughts, to the earth changing events like earth quakes that tore the very rock asunder. No, Nakomii knew almost nothing of the world in which he lived in, though the skies were known as they were only to him, the subtle beauty of gliding the thermals was lost on all but he, the glory of being so high above it all was feared by all who troubled with flight. He was exempt from that.
Still, Nakomii was a little conceded when it came to his flight. It was almost part of his decision to fly through one of the mountain passes to the other side of the range.
Strangely, it was one of the most important decisions of his life.
