Page 2 of The Exiled Dragon

…

My eyes blinked, but it was no longer dark when they opened. The rain had stopped, and wet soil filled my nose. It wasn't quiet. However, loud whooshing sounds came from the bottom of my tree stump. A cold, damp mushroom brushed my toes. I squeaked involuntarily. Slapping my hand over my mouth, the mushroom moved again and sniffed harder. A paw came through the tree stump and started to dig.

The paw was massive, hairy, and with claws as long as my fingers. I didn't come this far to be dug out by an animal. Trying to use my good foot, I pushed the mushroom, now realizing it was a nose away from me.

It sneezed and pushed forward again, humming a tune to the rhythm of its paws. At least it wasn't biting me yet. "Please don't," I whispered. "Please don't eat me." Sounding pathetic, a grunt caught the animal's attention, and it scampered off not too far from the tree. Leaning forward, my head came closer to the hole, taking in the brightness of the outside.

My eyes widened at the sight that I saw. The animal sat patiently, wagging its tail, pushing around the leaves and debris, while staring up at someone who couldn’t be called anything short of a Viking warrior.

His chest was bare; tribal tattoos, scars, and scrapes littered his chiseled body. One large scar went straight through his eyebrow, over his eyes, and down to his neck. Tight braids held his long hair at the top while the sides of his head were shaved. His facial hair was a dark beard that touched his collar bone with bits of beads adorning it. Sweat dripped on his forehead while he adjusted the leather straps crisscrossed over his body.

Once he petted his animal, his eyes met mine; his animal, a cross between a wolf and tiger, panted his tongue in my direction. Despite fearing everyone and everything since my arrival at that blood bank prison, this man didn't scare me as the Vampires did. His eyes held warmth, but his body and face were stiff with impending questions.

What was he going to do to me?

Chapter Two

Creed

Thenight'spreviousstormbrought good omens. Fresh rain washed the trails, giving new smells of fresh game. Despite the dark cave where Razak and I dwell, I knew exactly when the light sources would hit the sky. The double light hits the cave at dawn, increasing the temperature a few degrees. My Dragon was to thank for his stubborn temperature fascination.

Clearing my throat, I grabbed the jug of fresh rainwater that had collected in the night. It was cool, refreshing, and welcomed. Once the snow hit the mountains in a few weeks, I would miss the fresh rainwater. Razak was still asleep on the floor, the bed of furs laid out for him was worn and tattered, yet he slept like a king, unlike the other hybrid beasts like him. I had found him when he was just a cub; his mother was killed in a hunting expedition held by one of the Dragon tribes on the Southside of the mountain. Many tribes were careless, not caring if a female animal was pregnant or nursing a young. If they continue to kill without thinking, they will find their tribes going hungry later in the winter.

Since I lived alone, having a companion would be helpful. I'd trained him on clicks and whistles, so I didn't have to strain my voice. If he was in trouble, all I had to do was say his name, and he would cower in the corner. My voice wasn't the most pleasant since my accident, and using it scared many. So silent is how I remained, even to the animals of the forest.

Rising from my nest of furs, slinging my pack over my shoulder, Razak woke with a start. His tongue hung out over his wolf-like maw. His dark hair covered his entire body, but even darker hair of stripes and harsh lines decorated his coat. Sleek movements like a cat, yet the possessiveness of a wolf. He was the perfect combination of loyal and independent. Sending him off into the forest to capture his own meals was helpful when trying to take care of myself. Yet rewarding when he came back and brought game to me as well.

Clicking twice and whistling once, I called for him. My bag held rope, knives, and a small shovel to dispose of any innards that I did not want. Giving back to nature what I had taken to spring new life makes this land turn. Respect it, and it will respect you.

Shutting the gate that protected us from unwanted intruders at the back of the cave, we continued walking a short distance until we reached the outside. No large animals dare come in, not unless it was a wandering supernatural caught in the rain. Even then, they wouldn't stay long. The lingering smells of scorched walls and smoke held true scenting to ward them off. Not just any Dragon-like creature here, but a wild one.

Razak was full of energy this morning, bringing a small smile to my face while he pranced about in the puddles around the twisted trees. The cold breath that left his mouth frightened the Forest Fairies that lurked for sprouting to take at the bottom of the mountain. The sprouts wouldn't survive the winter, and Forest Fairies were an imaginative species. No plant was left uncared for.

Razak scouted up ahead while I checked the traps. I was looking for bigger game, a bear perhaps, but not with Razak this morning. The spring in his step was too loud, and hunting would not be fortuitous this morning. Shaking my head, I pulled the dead rabbit into my bag. It was fresh, still warm to the touch. Drying it would be easy, and it would make a great jerky treat.

Razak's soft paws stopped scuffling about the forest floor. The leaves calmed, and the wind even changed direction. A new smell wafted to my nose. It reminded me of summer citrus, the bouquet that had long since been forgotten since my mother’s passing. It was laced with a hint of salt and blood.

Resetting the trap quickly, my feet moved to the smell of my pet; he was sniffing the tree, pawing at the undergrowth of the dead trunk with long spindled tendrils.

Whatever was inside was small. Small movements and light breathing, gasping for air. Razak continued to paw at the ground, trying to dig it free. He was trying to pry it free, not eat whatever was inside. When he would find prey, he would growl, bark, and use his brute strength to challenge his food. This was different, almost pawing and whimpering at the tiny creature inside.

Inside, a slight movement rustled with the mud and a faint whisper. Sniffing again, it was still the same citrus smell. It was not of a Fae, an Elf, or a Nymph, who could easily enter the trunk. In fact, it seemed much smaller. My curiosity was becoming the best of me. I almost didn't hear the small whisper.

"Please, don't eat me," it begged. The voice was that of angels. Miniature and meek, quiet as one of the Whisps that liked to toy with my braided hair. My heart almost stopped hearing its cry.

Whistling Razak back to my side, I praised him with a few clicks of my tongue and looked back over at the base of the trunk. Dirty fingers touched the outside of the rotting tree, and half of a dirty porcelain face peeked out.

The saltiness I smelled was that of her dried tears stuck to her face. The dirt had been washed away in small trails where her tears were left in her wake. An amethyst eye looked me up and down, undoubtedly disturbed by my appearance.

I wasn't the most eye-catching man. My face and body were riddled with scars from my childhood before I had accepted my Dragon. These all healed independently, even though my childhood friend tried to help reduce the scarring. Razak nudged my hand again with his snout, pushing me forward, but my eyes remained on the one amethyst eye staring back at me. If we were to get anywhere, I would have to make the first move. Showing this creature I meant no harm would be difficult.

Slowly, I took off my bag and leather straps bound to my chest. It had many knives, spear tips, and ropes to help pick up small or big game. The eye watched me intently as I threw it away from me. All that was left of me was the waterskin on my hip and my leather pants made from a wild bear.

Another hand gripped the trunk until finally, another eye appeared. One was beautiful, but now both looked back at me with an intensity that would sear into my soul until the day I died. It was a girl, a tiny girl, but I couldn't be sure what species she was. Not Siren, not Werewolf, nothing that I have ever seen or smelled. Her smell continued to be blown in my direction, and by the gods, I swear they were trying to draw her to me.

My thoughts went to my voice. If I spoke, it would do nothing but scare her. Even Razak couldn't take my brutal voice. If I could have gone back in time to fight for my voice, I would. To be sure, I would have to use my voice to meet the girl with amethyst eyes and bring her safety.

Razak became impatient, trotting up to the girl, and she ducked her head back in the hole. He was too quick and licked the side of her cheek. A squeak left her lips, but she realized he wouldn't hurt her. Her head poked out again, and she looked at me. Razak, my old friend, was going to help.

---