Chapter Eleven
Nakomii looked down at the lake near his den, his lake. It was silver in the faint light from the sliver of moon and the stars. And, just there, his old den. His home. He was returning home.
Home. What a strange word, strange meaning. When had his den, the mountains, when had it ever been home to him? When had he ever looked forward to returning to his den? Never. And yet, now, it was home. Why, Nakomii didn’t know. He wasn’t sure why.
Landing on the earth in front of his den, Nakomii settled his wings against his back. The gentle lap of water against sand behind him, he started towards the hollow in the earth. And paused, startled.
He knew he had grown. The knowledge was there, obvious in the front of his mind. But the sight of the small hollow, just barely bigger then the skull in the bone pile- his mind sheered away from that thought- could never hold him now. Lifting his head, Nakomii continued forward, before sniffing at the opening.
Nothing. Just old scents. That was fine, Nakomii thought, lying down, legs under his body and his head under a wing. He’d enlarge it tomorrow, make it bigger, better. He could do that now, he remembered.
Ears twitching once, Nakomii slept.
Sunlight and voices woke him. The scents were as familiar as the scent of the air high up, the voices almost as familiar. His eyes were shaded by his wing, so the light did not pierce through his eyes. Ears lifting from where they had been plastered against his head, he came to awareness as the dragons spoke.
“-Nakomii? Big, though.”
“So? It can’t be Nakomii. Not small enough, not… dingy enough.”
“Of course, the freak is long dead. This must be a visitor from another clan, looking to find a mate.”
“Rather small, though. A youngling?”
“Huh, maybe. Hey, boy, get up! What’s your name?”
Nakomii slowly lifted his head, and looked into Obelisk’s eyes. Obelisk. His old tormentor. Lips lifting away from his teeth in a smile, almost a snarl, Nakomii got to his feet.
“My name?” he asked, noting that his voice was deeper then any. Chuckling, his grin grew wider. Word rumbling in his throat, he said; “Nakomii.”
---
Nakomii shifted, wings spreading and settling against his back. “Why,” he asked, watching Obelisk.
“To pay homage to the Gods,” Obelisk replied, running a paw over his spiny mane. “To show we are loyal, that we shall never fall from worship.” The bigger dragon looked at Nakomii, still unsure. Nakomii had nigh tripled his size while he had been away, and new muscle bulged in ropes along his front legs. His wings seemed to have grown, and Obelisk wasn’t sure what the new size meant. Nakomii would bear watching.
Loyalty, Nakomii wondered, unaware of Obelisk’s scrutiny. Was that really it? Was loyalty really shown by killing others, even if they were different? Like his little one?
Obelisk snorted, and spread his wings. Hind legs flexing, he jumped into the air, Nakomii a beat behind. Nakomii was still a better flyer then Obelisk, and Nakomii noticed how the older dragon got irritated about it. He flew behind Obelisk.
Nakomii didn’t find himself enjoying the flight as usual. He was going hunting, not for food to eat, but for the pests that lived on the mountains. Each wing beat brought him that much closer to that end, and so Nakomii dreaded the down sweep of wings and hoped for the continuation of the frozen moments, moments where everything but air stopped rushing.
“There!” Obelisk all but roared the word, wings tucking in to his sides. Front limbs extended in front of him, claws flexing. Foam flew from the sides of his mouth as he laughed, tongue flopping at a corner of his mouth.
Nakomii hung in the air, surprised at Obelisk’s ferocity, before he too pulled in his wings and dove. His wings were almost folded on his back, and Nakomii did not laugh. Instead, his mouth was closed, hooked talons clasped at the base of his throat. And closer the ground came, the ground and the pests who were starting to look up, to realize; too late, the danger that fell from the sky.
Tree branches raked the dragon’s sides, as if trying to stop the behemoths from their course of action. Leaves, twigs, and branches both large and small were ripped to pieces by the rough scales and the folds in the wings. The splinters and shreds of leaves fell in a vegetable rain down on the prey. And then Obelisk was upon them, lashing out with claws and fangs, wings and tail. Nakomii spread his wings and did his best to slow his fall, as his gaze was locked on the frenzy that was Obelisk. And then he, too, landed. A pest ran into him, and it was automatic that the smaller dragon whipped his head around and bit the pest in half. Starting to feel caged, Nakomii lashed out like Obelisk, shattering bone and stripping flesh.
Then, it was over. The pests lay dead, not a single one alive. Nakomii shook his head, blood drops having splattered the scales over his eyes. A faint haze of red shrouded his vision, though it did not hide Obelisk; dripping in blood, from sight. Looking down at his own paws, Nakomii shuddered and looked away. He too, dripped blood, though not as much.
Looking around, Nakomii felt horror at what they had done. Only two dragons, and there was hardly a whole pest left. Even young pests had fallen under the dragons, and a few were kills that Nakomii had made. He hadn’t killed these pests for food or territory, but for what amounted in the end as ‘fun’. It had supposed to be fun to kill helpless creatures that couldn’t help what they were.
“Nakomii, come see this.” Obelisk sounded amused, and Nakomii glanced over, shoulders tense. What would Obelisk do to Nakomii’s little one, if given the chance?
The other dragon was turned away from Nakomii. How easy would it be, Nakomii wondered, to just… jump, and land on Obelisk’s back? He would have to be fast, and bite down quickly, lest Obelisk throw him off and kill him.
Nakomii walked to Obelisk’s side. “What,” he asked, not bothering to jump. Or even sound annoyed. What would the point be? Obelisk wouldn’t understand.
“It’s not even been dead long enough, and it looks bloated.” There was a smile in Obelisk’s voice, as he pointed out the pest in question.
Bloated? Nakomii shifted, and would have blinked had he the eyelids to do so, but settled instead for a rustle of wings. Bloated.
It would have been a very pretty pest, were it alive. It must have been dainty in life, with features very similar to Nakomii’s little one. But the stomach was swollen, beyond what would happen if the pest had simply eaten too much. Nakomii’s throat constricted, he struggled to speak past the sudden tightness. Swallowing, he rasped before saying, “I don’t think it’s bloated.”
He felt cold, which was impossible. He never felt cold. Snow melted beneath his feet. So why couldn’t he feel his body, why did it seem such a struggle to lift a paw and rest a claw against the pest’s distended stomach? Why did he feel nothing as he cut open the gut, revealing the small form inside.
“No! No! No, this is impossible! No! Why Dekalagh?” Obelisk backed away, eyes bulging, tongue flapping as he shook his head violently. Obelisk looked like he would fly away any moment, or faint.
Nakomii had turned to stone, staring at the revealed unborn, tiny, white-
-pest.
---
Someone was screaming, screaming without stop. Pure fear cloaked him, smothered him inside. What had they done? What had they done? WHAT HAD THEY DONE?
So cold, hurt, can’t move. Hunger and thirst and fear, fear that it would come back and get her, kill her…
Never once stopping the scream that rang from his throat, Nakomii leapt into the air and flew, wings ripping through the air while his paws clawed at the air. He flew with the speed of fear and anger and confusion and desperation.
The scream only stopped when he couldn’t breath. Hanging in mid air, Nakomii pulled in great gulps of air, head spinning. His sides heaved, limbs trembling slightly. His breathing slowly cleared, and Nakomii felt like so much dead weight. The emotions were still there, but they were slowly coming to a rest, no longer whirling about him but instead resting, waiting for a moment where they could take control once again.
What had he seen, when he looked at the unborn pest? His little one, perhaps? Was this Dekalagh’s way of saying to return? Looking up at the moon, in the sky with the sun, Nakomii shuddered. Wings tilting, Nakomii turned away from the mountain, and started to fly.
What had once taken a time, not a long time but long enough, flew by in days. He didn’t land to rest, his muscles trembled with weariness and his vision blurred and dipped and twisted, though his head remained still, he didn’t bother to stop and land to hunt and sleep. There was no time. He had to… to… he knew what he had to do…
The mountain disappeared under his wing beats, and the familiar pile came into sight. The dragon all but crashed into the ground, snow melting beneath him as he landed. His breath rasped in his throat, and it took long moments before he realized his little one wasn’t there.
He was still worried, frightened for his little one, and her missing presence hit him like a blow. He could smell her scent, however faint, and it kept him from panicking, from leaping and bellowing and screaming in rage. Forcing trembling limbs to obey, Nakomii started to follow the scent.
The melting snow did nothing to help his search. But the rising mound of trees, such as they were, did help. Leaving the scent trail, Nakomii ran to the trees, catching stronger hints of his little one’s passage through the wood. But then, the scent trail entered the mud, and disappeared.
Nakomii threw his head back and howled to the sky. His voice rose and feel, giving sound to the emotions he felt but could not name.
“Dekalagh, please! Help me to find one of your chosen!” Voice hoarse, Nakomii waited for guidance. It didn’t come. “Please Dekalagh! Please! I haven’t been your most loyal, but I beg you, please guide me to her!” Nothing. Stifling a sob, Nakomii looked around. The setting sun illuminated the small trickle of water and river of mud. There were footprints, Nakomii noticed, barely thinking about it. The shadows had revealed them.
Wait, footprints? Suddenly feeling energy pouring through him again, Nakomii sniffed the prints. They smelt of mud, but then… Nakomii looked at what must have been a depression made by a rolling body, and not a large one either…
Following the direction the footprints had pointed, Nakomii walked along the river of mud. He wanted to fly, but he could miss something important that way. Walking was best.
Bent branches to the side stopped him from leaving his little one’s path. The faintest scent of big cat, almost covered by the mud scent, was there. Nakomii smiled. His little one had thought to get a pelt. The smile disappeared almost at the same time, as he remembered just how big the cats were.
The mud scent stood out once away from the rest of the mud, but the out of place scent soon disappeared. Nakomii felt like screaming again, but he was patient. He followed the big cat scent, walking along the trail, paws almost falling where the cat paws had been placed. Tongue flicked out to taste the air every now and then.
He didn’t pause, even though he had not slept for several days. The same energy he felt at seeing the footprints continued as he tracked the big cat scent that was getting stronger as he went.
And then, he could smell blood. It was faint, it wasn’t that far away, but it was blood and it smelt of his little one. Leaving the big cat trail, Nakomii didn’t even spare it a thought as he ran towards the scent of blood.
His feet smacked into the ground as he slowed and looked at the carcass of bone and a few tattered pieces of skin. It had been a big cat, but it was dead. Had been dead for a while, perhaps. Nakomii looked up from the bones, and started running again. He was starting to feel pain in every muscle in his body, though he refused to pay it any attention.
The scent of blood led him into a real forest, with real trees. But these ones had needles instead of leaves, large pines that reached for the skies. Snow had fallen here, thicker then Nakomii was used to. It melted near him, but only where his paws touched now. He had to be getting colder, hungry and tired and cold.
The blood scent came from under thorn bushes. Scavengers stayed near the bushes, snapping at each other, wary to come near the thorns. Several were missing patches of fur where they had gotten a little close, and the arrival of Nakomii sent them running. Why stay around where you might never get the meat, when you could look for something easier to grab and eat.
Nakomii hit one of the nearer scavengers, a small fox, and stuck his head through the thorns.
His little one. This time, Nakomii did sob. The scent of blood, the distance it had reached, became clear at the amount of blood on the ground and on his little one. Her eyes fluttered open at the sound, and her lips parted to speak. Nakomii leaned forward, listening.
“Dekani.” Her eyes fell shut, and Nakomii sat back, and started to tear the bushes up by their roots. They may have saved his little one, but they were hardly needed now that he was here.
Nakomii was showing a poor lack of foresight.
---
There was nothing that didn’t hurt. Dekani was surprised that the thought, the noting of the pain, didn’t cause more pain.
Opening her eyes hurt, her eyes feeling grainy and dry. She could barely remember what happened a moment ago, and she had a feeling that was important.
Something wet was held to her lips, and her tongue inched out to taste the blood. She licked the piece of meat several times, before giving up in exhaustion. Something grumbled, but she couldn’t see it. Everything was a large dark blur, and besides, the thing that made noise was above her head. Reassured that she wasn’t going to have to move, Dekani closed her eyes and slept.
When she woke up, something soft was being pushed through her cracked and sore lips; meat that was so soft it had to have been chewed. Her tongue, swollen and dry, mashed the chewed mess against the roof of her mouth, and then she swallowed. More meat was pushed past her lips and she swallowed it. Again and again, until it seemed the being had used up all the meat it had to give to her. Then, there was movement, and cold claws were held to her lips, claws with snow melt on them, drops sliding onto her lips, sending the cracks into stinging pain and nearly making Dekani weep for the sweetness of it.
Several times, snow melt was held to her lips by claws cold as snow, and then she slept.
Time passed strangely to Dekani, deliriums as she was by pain and fever. Food was given to her, meat that had been chewed so as to be soft, so as to make it easy to get passed her stone like lips and easy for her to swallow. Snow melt, water, was given every time she wasn’t eating, she suspected her helper was giving it to her while she slept, too. Not that it would drown her, it was so little at a time.
Once, she thought she saw a pale woman, shining, with eyes a shade of dull copper, so pale as to be almost gray, while her hair was washed out blue. The woman smiled at her and touched Dekani’s forehead, and then Dekani slept, waking up only to eat what was pushed passed her lips.
Another time, a man, black skinned with gold hair, watched her and placed a hand on her ripped shoulder, and the ache eased for a time. Dekani saw her mother, bloody and holding her head in the crook of one arm, glaring at Dekani’s broken body. Dekani looked back at her mother, hardly noticing the shift as to where her mother’s head was. Other times, Dekani saw other people that she didn’t know. One woman, dark haired and dark skinned, bounced a pale child on her hip, smiling and nodding, the young child smiling at the equally pale, injured woman.
And through it all, Dekani saw the blur of darkness that was her real surroundings, and her helper, and… everything.
Dekani was first aware when the fever broke when she was able to turn her head. The muscles protested the movement, but no dizzy swirling accompanied the movement, no feeling that her insides were going to come up outside through her mouth. And she could feel the cold of winter, but it wasn’t as much as she had expected. Chilly claws held snow melt to her lips, and she ran her tongue over her lips after words.
“More.” Her voice was almost non existent, cracked and rough. More snow melt was held to her lips, and she said again, “more.” Again, snow melt was held to her lips, and after five more times, she suspended her asking. Meat was then held to her lips, meat that hadn’t been chewed, and she opened her lips and bit it, swallowing the small amount she had in her mouth before opening her mouth again. The meat was held to her lips, she bit, and swallowed, before asking for more.
She felt blind, for once having the energy to wonder where she was and what was going on. Her nose was useless, the heavy scent of blood both new and old overpowering everything. Dekani was dismayed to think that the blood she smelt was hers.
Sounds above her head, the sharp crack of bone breaking, answered her unasked question. Scavengers were coming to eat the creature that bled so much, and were instead killed by her unnamed helper, the blood scent from the dead calling more scavengers. Crunching above her head, the sound of a hungry creature eating, and Dekani closed her eyes. It didn’t make any difference, though the pain in her eyes eased slightly.
“Who…” It was the first time she had spoken since Nakomii had left, Dekani remembered with a pang. No, not the first time since then. She had said her name to her unnamed helper, she assumed. She had seen the blur of bushes being replaced by darkness, and had spoken her name then.
“Hush.” It was a deep voice, and sounded familiar. Claws raked through her hair, the tips scraping over her scalp, brining tingles up and down her spine. “Hush, little one, and sleep. Questions can be answered later.”
Dekani wanted to ask questions, ask who had saved her, who had claws like a dragon, but found herself lulled to sleep instead. The claws continued to rake through her hair though, long after her body had relaxed into slumber.
