Erneaterrncira Starborn

Cold. How unusual. I have never been cold in my entire life. I have never been many things when I walked this earth before. Dragons cannot get sick, weak, old or cold. Nor could we starve to death even if we choose to.

Yet here I was. Shivering under one measly blanket by a pile of smoldering coals. Hungry.

An unspeakable mistake on my part. When did I grow so complacent? Overconfident of the ancient flame burning in my blood, I did not feed our campfire and let it burn out. Such a mistake a hatchling would make. Thus, now I sat trembling in the freezing depths of my own ignorance. This was no body of a dragon. I had no scales to speak of. No tail to coil around myself. No wings to hide under.

What even was I?

Small. Weak. Tiny hands. Short twiggy limbs. Flat chest. Sunken cheeks. A grumbling belly. Snot dangling nose. Prickly stubble playing for hair. No bigger than half of a human was I.

A hatchling indeed.

A hatchling freezing off her bum. No more of this. Gathering whatever energy I found in my new form, I made it crawl towards the pile of firewood Dorothy left us. With a piece of kindling in each of my bony hands I somehow made it back to the smoldering embers and placed the wood atop the hottest spot I could find.

That earned me a whole lot of nothing.

The thought that in my prime I could start a forest fire with a misplaced ptooey made it more depressing than I wish to acknowledge. Again, how did the humans do it? Hmm, I believe they bunched up some wood onto a pile and woosh it went. Do I need more wood?

I made five more trips on my knees between the firepit and the woodpile, earning myself a stack of twelve kindling of varying sizes before my body began trembling with exhaustion. I bunched them all up over the ones already there and waited.

Nothing. Not even a puff of smoke. From what I remembered it should be spitting smoke right now.

Gather all the embers in one place, put the kindling over it and blow.

Huh? A faceless man in strange olive suit made me start a fire again and again until I could get the flames going within a minute. I had to blink the odd memory away. Where did it come from?

“Galen?”

His lifeless body rested in the same spot where Dorothy put him, tucked in another blanket. If I held my hand over his nose, I could feel his breath tickling my skin. The only indication I had that he was still with me.

Was what I saw something from his past?

“You stupid dummy.”

I cleared my tearing eyes with my palms and dismantled the wood pile I made before. That was going to get me nowhere. Following my newfound knowledge, I gathered all the embers in one spot then once again built a careful stack of kindling over it and blew. This time though, a crackling orange flame answered my efforts. A little underwhelming, might I say. And the kindling were disappearing a little too fast for my liking. The gluttonous fire demanded a proper log for its sustenance. I obliged. I am not fond of cold and ringing teeth.

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At the price of a scraped knee and two broken nails I fed the fire with three big logs. One half as big as my skinny torso. I had to roll them all the way from the pile but the warmth the flames spread I welcomed.

My grumbling stomach in turn welcomed an entire pouch of salted jerky and a fill of a waterskin I gulped to wash off the salt. Thus, warmed and sated, I returned to my blanket and sat listening to the crackling flame.

Mana. I need mana.

My body needs mana if I am to ever do anything more than crawl around and whine at this weakened shell. I small miracle I even lived with how little mana circled in my blood. Little if any. Try as I might I could not sense any magic power within me. What I had before, I burned away on my dolt.

Then, how could I move?

Even my dolt with his otherworldly heart could do nothing but drool on the floor if by any chance he managed to exhaust his insane mana pool. Yet, here I was, sitting without an ounce of mana within me and twiddling my thumbs. I could, within limits of my new scrawny flesh, do whatever I wanted and this new body of mine complied. Bizarre.

Perhaps not as bizarre as having a body once more? It is not often one comes back from the dead such as I did. Again. Why must this circle of sacrifice keep me locked within this hateful life? First my mother and now this loony dolt of mine.

Stupid dolt, look what you’ve done to me. Me, a mighty dragon, sniffing like a snot nosed child. So annoying.

I rubbed my eyes dry then plucked my right nostril and blew just like Neid taught me, ejecting a globe of green goop that sailed over the fire, catching flame and exploded several feet away from us upon touching the ground.

An odd yet familiar sight. It appears some things did not change. How peculiar. What is this body? Not human, not dragon either. An elf? No. A hybrid of all? I had no time to ponder more, as a murderous aura choked my breath in my throat. Such vitriol, I had not experienced anything similar ever since I left my master. Who…

Beside me, not far from where I sat, the eyes of death watched me. Colorless, cold, unblinking death. Even though he lied with his head facing me and his eyes open, these were no eyes of my dolt. Whatever creature gazed at me… I dare not venture what hid within that fractured mind or why it chose the path it did. Unable to move, I watch the eyes of death gaze into me and judge. Holding me hostage within its gaze.

And then I lived. Deemed not worth killing, the eyes closed, and the murderous presence vanished while the sleeping dolt remained. A sleeping dolt and one frightened hatchling that had to crawl to the pond outside to clean herself and wash her blanket.

Suffice to say, I did not return to that cave until sun climbed high into its seat in the sky. And even then, I stalled for time, convincing myself all was well and that shaking of my limbs was no more but a result of mana deficiency. Something I should address by now, although Doroty made it clear to me what she thought of it.

Do not attempt any mana manipulation until the dolt wakes. Or longer if you have the patience. Let your new heart acclimatize to this mana rich environment. This depleted island is as close to the world whence that heart came as it is possible. Train your fitness if you find the will to do so.

Had my old master not spoken of the same thing? To balance fitness and magic avoiding the trap of sacrificing one for the gains in another? To avoid shortcuts for they leave foundation lacking.

My mind wandered to the cave and the dolt sleeping within.

“The gift you have given me, I shall not squander. Friend.”

With my tiny fists clenched and my body bare in the sun, I forced myself off the ground.

Yet my legs failed me, my mana starved muscles screaming in pain at me. It brought a smile to my lips. Pain meant I was alive. A fall meant a chance to get up. Both gave me an opportunity to learn.

And learn I will. Learn to stand, walk, run and fly.