Page 1 of Lyric

1

Lyric

The crowd roared when I crossed the finish line. The drones could barely keep up.

The announcer yelled. “Lyric/Lyrican has another first place finish!

I took a victory lap around the arena. It helped calm my inner fires which fueled adrenaline. Lyrican groaned softly. My wings ached at the shoulder joints, but after hundreds of races, I was in good shape. I’d stay in dragon form, as I preferred, and later the trainers would pad my shoulders with hot compresses, then rub between the scales at my joints with pain cream.

The second-place winner, Bard, crossed the line after I had completed my lap. I’d been twenty seconds ahead of the second-place flier!”

I landed gracefully on the arena green and watched the fliers come in one by one. My vision was gold-tinted, the flames still surging. It was thirst, though, not flames, that made my mouth so hot.

As the crowd continued to applaud, many still calling out my name, I walked on all fours to the water trough, dipping my snout almost all the way in, sucking water fast. It cooled my belly. There had been a ringing in my head I didn’t notice until it vanished. The race had been long, the summer sun brutal.

I blinked out at the crowd, water dripping from my mouth. My vision cleared although gold still pulsed around the edges. I curled my tail upward, then snapped it down on the grass letting the crowd know I was the alpha winner, and that I heard their praise.

When the race ended, the ground crew readied the podium. Mine was the highest spot and I fluttered up to perch on it to another huge round of yells and applause. Cameras surrounded us. This race was televised, and I would be able to review it later.

The award presenter, in human form, used a ladder to reach me and clasp the gold medal around my huge neck. Drones dropped trails of white flower petals around us, sweetening the air. I bared my fangs in a big smile.

Afterward, I didn’t hang out in the arena. I went straight to the dragon-sized recovery room, a place as big as a warehouse, where I was met by trainers who knew what I needed. The air conditioning hit my body in a welcome envelope of coolness.

I perched, unfurled my wings, and let the trainers on their motorized ladders treat my usual aches from both sides.

I couldn’t talk to tell them what I wanted, but they knew the routine. Lyrican was silent but I could sense his unhappy mood based on the ringing in my ears and the tint in my vision had increased. The medic made an appearance, as always, asking me easy yes and no questions. No big deal.

“Is the joint pain decreasing with the compresses?”

I nodded my big head.

“Any trouble breathing?”

I shook my head no.

“The heat was brutal today. Any effects from that?”

I nodded.

He made a note on his tablet. “Vision?”

Another nod.

“Tunnel vision?”

No.

“All right. Anything else?”

I tilted my head.

“Sound?”

A nod.

“Coming and going?”

No.

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