Up in those dark blue clouds, Dragon swooped and dove, enjoying the freedom and energy of the storm, nourished by the magic. Visibility was diminished, but knew where he was going. He had never been lost, and never would be, even in the harshest of storms.
He had tried to climb above the clouds at first, until the air was so thin no rider would have survived. But he was a creature of the sky and the sea, and didn’t need air to sustain him or hold him aloft, it was just a nice convenience, that was all.
Up he had gone, up through the thin air, up until he could almost see the rivers above him, calling to him to swim in its sweet water. He had flown in that middle-place for a while, but the storm had been even thicker, almost cloying on his scales, and he didn't wish to join the rivers above, so he had returned to the land and the birds.
He liked birds. Sometimes they would fly for hours in his draught, following him like children, resting on his back and swooping around his face, as if daring him to eat them. He knew that above him in that endless sea, there would be no birds, no humans, no Dragon, and so he simply would not go, no matter how it called down to him.
He had a bird on his wing now, a great white thing. They felt familiar, as if he had flown with them before, but far from here and years before, even if he couldn't place where. Together they drank in the magic for a time, holding it inside them and letting it clean them of impurities, before letting it go again with fierce joy. Swooping and diving around each other for the sheer sake of it.
They flew like that for a time, but somewhere along the way she left, and Dragon carried on alone. The harness was long gone and his scales felt clean and strong, the magic washing through him unhindered and electric. Holding it in, as he normally did when he flew, would have been pointless. Like a jar of water beneath the ocean, with a fish trapped inside. Able to see out, but never free.
-
Around an hour from where he’d left Shortie and Shadows, the storm finally broke. The air, almost in a moment, changed from dry static into sheets of rain and thundering booms. The promise and tension in the air finally released, forming a solid wall of water.
It washed his scales down, filling his eyes and forcing him to close his nose. Around him the water absorbed the magic from the air, capturing it and dragging it towards the earth, where it would nourish and grow the forests and fields.
It was beauty and life, and for a time, Dragon simply enjoyed it.
-
The two humans, when he finally found them, were not having such a great time of it. They had tried to weave a shelter out of the brush, but it could only do so much with the magic permeating the air. Once the rain had started they had given up, sitting under the remains of their shelter, miserable and wet. If Dragon hadn’t noted down in his mental map where he had left them, he might never have found them at all.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
What had been a road the day before was already vibrant and green, the plants up to his knees as he landed, the crash of the wind and the creak of growth all around him. It was warmer on the ground, but not by much, and the two of them looked utterly miserable in the rotten remains of their clothing.
They beckoned him towards them and then shivered under his wings, pressing up against his body for warmth. They hadn’t questioned him at all, too cold for fear or words, merely snuggled down beneath his bulk, away from the cold and the rain.
-
It took three days for the storm to end. The humans had, after much effort, managed to get themselves a fire going. Only carefully dried brush and something from the remains of one of their packs succeeding, after many failed attempts. It was only a small fire, but watching their process was interesting, the way they generated sparks of heat and then kept them going with dead and dry materials. He sheltered it from the driving rain for them with his wings and his body, enjoying the warmth.
Watching them create the fire answered a lot of questions he had had about human society, but also produced many others.
He had at some point Changed himself a little, lowering his efficiency to generate more heat for the two snuggled against him, and he wondered why he had never done it before.
There hadn’t been the need, he supposed. In the course of most journeys, blankets and clothing worked well enough.
When the rain finally stopped, he had expected cheers, but the two of them seemed too tired and sick for celebration. Humans were not magical creatures, and he was coming to realise that too much of it damaged them, wore them down and did things to the insides of their bodies that they didn't understand. In retrospect, some things started to make more sense there, too.
He could fix it, of course, he was a Dragon, but the sickness would remain, and he wasn’t familiar enough with their anatomy to go messing about. Best to get them home quickly, where other humans could take care of them.
-
The journey back to City took far longer than he would have liked, almost another week in total. Flying too fast or too high upset them both, and increased the danger of them falling off. He had Changed himself a little, forming some spikes on his back they could hold onto, rather than dig their nails in, but it only helped so much, and it was a constant effort to keep the magic in place.
Despite that, they were much more accepting of the half a deer than Passenger had been, slicing at it cleverly with stone knives and then burning it over the fire. Once it was cooked, they offered him some of it back.
Dragon had never eaten cooked meat before, and he wasn’t sure about it at first. The flavour was very different, which he found interesting. It was a little like eating the fire-fuel, the heat reducing some of it back down to base elements, bitter and black, but quite tasty. He would be up for trying this again!
Shadows seemed to suffer more from the magic-sickness than Shortie, but they were much less in tune with their body, resisting the magic and trying to hold it away, rather than letting it work.
Weird, but that was how humans were, he supposed. Dragon had only met a few who seemed to truly know what they wanted, and it was always the younger ones, the ones thrumming with magic, who had not yet learnt to push it away. Shortie was closer, but there were things even they denied.
Reaching the city after that arduous week was a relief.
From the sky above it smelt sweet and pure, with only slight undertones of the acrid scent he was used to. The plants in the landing area went up past his shoulders, and he had to stamp them down a bit before his passengers could alight.
As they staggered off into the city, he shifted his body back to how he liked it, pressed his face into the sweet grass, and dreamt of simpler times.