Page 107 of Catastrophe

He changed form and the naked, muddy little boy stared at his hands for a long while.

I wanted to know what he was thinking. Was he shocked? Was he upset? Or glad to have changed and saved himself?

He began walking when the wind pimpled his skin and we continued to follow until he stopped by an old camp where the remnants of a fire left inside a stone circle. He scooped up the burned wood and soot from the fire and rubbed it over his body. He patted ash and dirt into his hair, making himself even more mucky. Then he continued walking, although now it was slower and with a limp.

Eventually, he came to another village and called out weakly. A tear fell from his eyes as he drew attention to himself. As people turned, a woman let out a gasp and then they descended upon him, enveloping him in the cloaks from their shoulders and checking his body for injury. Fafnir pointed at the sky and tears fell freely from his eyes as he described … a dragon attack?

The growls and angry sounds from men as they listened closely to his tale only got louder as they began talking amongst themselves, their fists clenched and their eyes narrowed on the skies.

“… attacked by a dragon. The poor boy.” I heard a woman say as I concentrated on her mouth. I gasped as I realized the meaning of her words. He’s blaming his dragon form for his state. I suppose it’s not a lie.

But are these people witches too? Will they see the deception?

“We’ll need to do something. This child lost his family. His village.” Someone jeered from the back of the crowd and they agreed.

“Could you take us to it? Do you know where you came from?” A man closest to Fafnir asked. He was fierce to behold, riddled with scars, with his dark beard and hair braided, and he stood looming over the boy with an ax in his hand.

“I can’t be sure.” Fafnir swallowed, a quiver in his voice. “It was dark, and I was scared.”

The man’s blue eyes softened and he patted Fafnir’s shoulder. “It’s all right, boy. We’ll make sure you’re taken care of and we’ll end this dragon. For your family, your village and for what it’s cost you.”

Fafnir’s eyes glittered with tears, and he swallowed back the emotions. Clenched his jaw and sniffled. “I want to help. I want to fight it.”

It was a strange reaction, especially when he knew the dragon was himself.

The man grinned. “We’ll make a man of you yet, boy. What’s your name?”

“D-darius.” He stared at the man with worship in his eyes and I realized this man was probably the first to ever be kind to Fafnir.

I knew how attached you could get to a person who proves your fears wrong.

“It’s good to meet you. My name is Regin, and this is my village. You are welcome here. Now, go wash up with the women, and we’ll begin tracking the dragon tomorrow.”

The scene changed again, and I was feeling ill with the constant shifts in visions, but I exchanged smiles with Nisha as we watched a group of baby ducks follow their mother into the lake. The village was now lush and green, and heat rose in curls from the ground. Children screamed, and a hammer clanged noisily behind us as we walked behind two men toward the woods.

I stopped asking questions about what I was looking at and why it was important. I trusted Nisha to show me what I needed to see.

“Witches? Here? So close to the village?” Fafnir’s voice asked, with the odd prepubescent squeak. He turned his head up to gaze at his companion and I recognized him, too. Regin. The leader of the village.

“Anonymous reports came in of a suspicious person visiting a village a day from here. I believe they could be a witch. You aren’t ready for battle, but I trust you to watch and report back.”

Wait. Is Regin a hunter? Promising revenge on the dragon could have been empty reassurances to a young boy who lost his family. But if they were hunters, if they knew about supernaturals and dragons … And to have reports of witches?

Is this why he wanted to rejoin the hunters? Because they were his first family? It was understandable, but he was both a witch and a drakorian. How could he be one of them?

“Only watch?” Fafnir wined. “I’m ready. I want to fight. I can be useful.”

“Of course you can, my boy.” Regin patted his back again and handed him the sack. “But Brunhild will have my head if I send you to fight alone. Go to the village, watch for a few days and report back. If you do well, and discover the witch, you can go with the hunting party.”

“How will I know if it’s a witch?” he asked.

Regin didn’t miss a beat. “Remember your lessons. Strange happenings, small animals, females leading and prescribing medications. Watch for effects on the village.”

“And if I don’t have evidence?”

Regin shrugged. “The leader is concerned. Even without evidence, if you agree with him that something untoward is happening there, we will strike. Those creatures can’t be allowed to live.”

Fafnir was quiet for a moment, and they continued to walk through the woods. When he spoke, it was a quiet whisper in the wind. “What if I were a witch?”

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