KILGHARAH THE BOLD AND ADVENTUROUS

It takes three days for me to heal; a fucking miracle by human standards for sure, and much faster than I’d dared to hope considering how fucked up I’d been, so as itchy as my scales become while my wounds scab over and seal themselves shut, I can’t really bring myself to complain.

The last three days have also been spent getting to know my new squirrel buddies a little better.

Emphasis on the little.

In fact, it’s pretty safe to say that calling them my buddies might be a bit of a stretch, seeing as it’s pretty fucking obvious that they don’t like me. Or trust me, for that matter. Which is really fucking weird, because I never did jack shit to ‘em.

Meh, maybe they’re just one of those “we don’t take kindly to your type around here” kinda folks.

Thankfully though, the squirrels’ lack of affection for me doesn’t make them treat me badly, or even coldly, but it does mean that they keep their distance from me.

It had kind of weirded me out, at first, since I’d assumed after they fed me that we’d start, I don’t know, mending bridges, or something.

But that hadn’t happened.

Instead, as soon as I finished eating the second fruit, they’d run back up to their tree and steadfastly avoided me.

Eventually, when I’d finally mustered up the willpower to push through the pain and find myself a tree perch too, I’d figured it was best to head to a different tree. Since, you know, I didn’t want to get beaten with a fucking branch again.

I’d stayed up on my tree almost exclusively for the next three days; healing, sleeping, and eating many times my body weight of the unfamiliar fruit that grew on my tree.

Ah, eating.

That’s undoubtedly been my favourite activity to engage in recently. And I’m eternally grateful to the squirrels for having been the ones who helped me realize that I wasn’t actually carnivorous.

It's kinda crazy to think about, to be honest; that I’d been surrounded by food, easily accessible food for that matter, and yet I’d gone to sleep hungry because that jerkass Longtail had refused to help me.

I wonder how long it would have taken me to realize it if the squirrels hadn’t gotten their little change of heart.

How long would I have gone hungry while surrounded by food? A day? A week? Till I died?

Fuck, that’s some scary shit to think about, and I’m glad that I don’t have to worry about it ever again.

While my convalescence only takes three days, I stay on my tree for about a week.

I leave, of course, but only temporarily, mostly just to try the fruits of whatever nearby tree that catches my fancy.

I love it, living this way. Eating and sleeping away my days. It’s lazy, peaceful, maybe even decadent, but fuck if I don’t feel like I’ve earned it after the week I’ve had.

This is what an afterlife should be, in my not so humble opinion. Lazing about, eating, and sleeping. Not that Bear Grylls “You vs Wild” bullshit.

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Unfortunately, after that first week of lazing around, something changes; I get bored.

To be honest though, if I’d thought about it before now, I would probably have realized that it was inevitable.

After all, I’m not some mindless, instinct-driven animal, I’m a human being... well, a person anyway.

Moreover, I’m a person from a technologically advanced age where entertainment was always a swipe of a finger away. The truth is I’m addicted to that stuff; you could say that it’s in my blood.

The only reason I haven’t craved a fix before now is because I’ve been more than sufficiently distracted.

First with dragon mom, then her death, then the psycho river monster who ate me... yeah, my life before now had been sufficiently full of entertainment.

With all of that now a week behind me though, the craving is back, and, before I realise it, I begin to find little ways to entertain myself. Little ways like singing, stargazing, and, my personal favourite, exploring.

Everyday, I fly a little farther from my tree, heading a little deeper into the forest, tree by tree. I try out new fruits, encounter new animals, I even try hunting. Once.

It goes... about as well as I really should have expected it to. That is to say, of course, that it ends up a complete fucking disaster.

By the end of it, I’m so frustrated that, (almost) completely involuntarily, I spit a ball of golden fire at the animal, some small, foxlike creature.

Naturally of course, the wily bastard dodges, and my fire hits a tree instead and sets it alight.

Oh, fuck.

The golden flames spread fast, faster than I would have thought possible, and in mere seconds, they climb up the trunk and begin to spread onto the lower branches.

The forest is going to burn if I don’t put this out.

As soon as I think that, I feel it.

Or, more accurately, I realise that I’ve been feeling it this entire time.

I can feel the flames. Feel as they grow in strength. And just like that, I know what to do.

The fire goes out with a simple thought. It leaves nothing behind; no smoke or smoulder, just a tree with a scorched trunk and lower branches that will very likely not survive.

‘Holy shit,’ I whisper. ‘I can control fire.’

Huh.

Wait, is this how dragon mama managed to not burn down the forest despite breathing fire all the time?

Good to know.

It must also have been how she put out the forest fire she started when she was killed.

I stay watching the blackened tree for some time, feeling a little in awe of myself, then eventually, I fly off.

The adventure continues.

—❈—

The first night I spend away from my tree comes two weeks after my “Dance with the River Nana.”

... It's a working title.

Anyway, before tonight, I always go back to my tree to sleep at night, but this time, I just don’t.

In the morning, it doesn’t take much introspection to realise that I’m going to leave my tree.

Hell, I already have.

I want to see more of this world, and without the fear of starvation hanging over my head, and with the knowledge that I have a very effective weapon in my firebreath, there simply isn’t anything keeping me from doing it.

I consider going back to my tree all the same, to say goodbye to the squirrels at the very least. But then I cast the thought aside; they probably won’t even notice I’m gone, and, if they do, they most likely won’t care.

That morning, I fly off. And, for the first time ever, I fly for many hours before stopping.

—❈—

I stare at the deep, dark hole framed by the roots of the tree.

‘Hmm,’ I murmur.

On the one hand, this is obviously a trap. On the other though, I do hear a voice asking for help.

‘Hmm,’ I murmur again.

It’s been... maybe a month? Since I officially began my adventure, if you could call it that, and so far, things have been going well.

I’ve seen things, done things, eaten lots of things, it’s been fun.

No, really, it has. I mean, animals, trees; what’s not to love?

So, anyway, today I heard someone calling for help, and when I tracked down the voice, I realized that it was coming from the aforementioned very deep and very dark hole in the root of a big tree.

I’ve called down the hole, both with my mind voice and my actual voice, but whoever’s down there either can’t hear me, or can’t answer because there is actually no one down there and this is simply a trap.

I sigh, coming to a decision.

Fuck it, I’m not gonna risk my life over this.

Sorry to whoever’s down there, but—wait a minute. Is that light I see in there?

Curious and perplexed, I lean my head a little into the hole to get a better—

*schluk*

As I fall into the infinite darkness, pulled down by an invisible force, my only thought is: ‘Fuck me.’