In the days since my late-night visit to Keuvra’s den, I’ve spent a lot of time ruminating on what happened. The things he said to me, the things he showed me, and the gifts he gave me.
I’ve also thought about the things he didn’t show me. And that’s a problem.
The afternoon sun glistens against my feathers, warming the moon and providing the updrafts necessary to reach my far-off destination. From my perch in the sky, I sense the alluring scent of prey and drop into an unfamiliar forest. Leaves scatter as I pass through the deciduous canopy and into a clearing just wide enough for a Dragon my size to land. If Kuro were on my wing, we would have been forced to search for something larger. But she isn’t. It’s dangerous to be here; I couldn’t possibly tell her about my plan. She would have never agreed to let me go alone. But as the recipient of Keuvra’s Divine Flight to unite the moon in peace, I must face this task alone.
I still my body when I touch the ground, refusing to shift even a feather. For a breathless moment, I sense my surroundings, searching for any sign of prey. Warm sunlight filters through the trees around me, outlining the forest in a calming yellow hue. The air is warm, and the trees are silent. Locating confidence, I fold my wings and lower my head, stalking through the underbrush as quietly as my legs will carry me.
A short time later, I find myself at the top of an incline, gazing across the forest. In the distance are two elderuses growing close to each other, their evergreen branches delicately entwined. It’s here at the base of the ancient trees that I discover my prey, a lone false-kin consuming the body of a recently slain Litsha. Their dirty-red scales shimmer scarlet in the mottles of sunlight, revealing their diminutive size, even for a false-kin. If I were to fight this Dragon, I could easily defeat them and come of age in the flock. But I haven’t come here today for a fight.
I’m here to talk.
Since receiving Keuvra’s gifts, I’ve had some time to try out my restored Lemur form and test the capabilities of my universal speech. After a day of trial and error, I can translate the language of Kin quickly enough inside my head to have a conversation with Kuro. I’ll finally be able to understand ascendants when I return to the Farlands! But during my time as a Lemur, I realized something I wouldn’t have considered Kin.
In all the tales of Azurrel and the ascension of the species, false-kin are never mentioned. As I saw with my own eyes, no false-kin were present at the meeting between the mortal deities and Azurrel. And yet, the last false-kin I came across spoke to me, a clear sign they’ve received the Gift of Communication. So, what’s happening here? If false-kin were enlightened by Azurrel, why weren’t they at the gathering on Truce? Keuvra gave me a Divine Flight to unite the moon in peace. If false-kin are intelligent, worthy of Azurrel’s gifts, shouldn’t they be among those I unite?
What better way to begin unification than by having a conversation with one?
I lower my head and stalk through the underbrush, following the false-kin’s scent downwind. Once I get close enough, I’ll use my universal speech to call out to them and act as friendly as possible. I’m reasonably confident they’ll be able to understand me! If not, then this is going to be a terse conversation.
Suddenly, the wind shifts, blowing my scent back toward the false-kin! I freeze, lowering myself flat against the ground. Several wingspans ahead of me, the false-kin shifts, tearing their muzzle from the Litsha and sniffing the air. Blood drips from the scales of their maw, and their lips raise to bare fangs. I’m sure I’m hidden behind an oshbush, but it’s no use. The false-kin reacts like lightning, leaping onto an elderus trunk and using it as a springboard to sail through the air.
ROAAAR!!
My own instincts engage, propelling me from the underbrush and into the open forest.
SKREEAK!!
I leap, dodging the lightning-fast wingspurs of the angry drakon. Damn it!! I can’t concentrate on sending him a message if we’re in the middle of a fight! But if I try to defend myself, then he definitely won’t stop attacking me until I’m dead. This is bad!! What should I do?!
As the false-kin charges with jaws wide, I pivot on my talons and take off running. The drakon’s jaws close with a vicious snap, taking inches from my tailfeathers but missing bone. I tuck my wings and dash straight across the forest, trying to distance ourselves as much as possible. If I can just get away from him, I’ll have enough room to concentrate and connect to his mind. This is my only chance of defusing the situation!
Heavy talonsteps thunder across the forest, competing against loud whimpering. I don’t want him to flee — if I sound like a frightened prey-animal then I’ll be irresistible to a hungry Dragon. I leap across the side of a downed cypress and flip mid-air, turning to face the racing false-kin. Blood drips from his scales as he races towards me, jaws wide! I force myself to stifle the adrenaline surging and concentrate on the false-kin. Focus, Asha!! At the last moment, I feel a connection made!
But it’s too late. The angry drakon slashes my neck, drawing hot blood against my feathers.
SKREEAK!!
I tumble backward, trying to avoid the next attack from his wingspurs. But with the connection established, now I can talk to him! He has to listen!
The drakon ignores me, tensing his muscles and issuing a fierce cry of defiance.
RARRGH!!
Will he respond to reason? Or will I be forced to fight back and prey on him? If this doesn’t work…!
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Sensing a low attack with his fangs, I lope through the air and land on the opposite side of an emberroot, causing leaves to explode in all directions. My wings tuck, and I roll across the ground to position my talons and receive the follow-up attack from the raging false-kin. But, the attack never comes. Gazing through a curtain of falling leaves, I frantically scan the forest for the distinct shimmer of light reflecting from scales. Still, there’s nothing there. I whip my head up to see the false-kin in the same position he was in moments ago, his eyes wide in shock.
This is my chance!
Heavy growls roll across the forest, our bodies frozen with fangs bared. Is he waiting for me to strike first? Or has he truly yielded? His fear-scent is thick (and tantalizingly sweet) — given my advantage in size, it’s in his best interest to avoid a fight. But does he truly believe I’m speaking to him inside his head?
…
Holding our talons at a feather’s edge is no way to begin a conversation. I silence my growl and force myself to hide my fangs.
The false-kin’s growl slowly lowers and becomes inaudible against the forest sounds. He stares at me, panting heavily, but keeps his talons planted and muzzle shut. Why isn’t he talking back? Doesn’t he understand what I’m transmitting? I suppose a creature that’s hunted you and your kin for your entire life suddenly stopping to begin a conversation must be a moon-shattering experience. I’m going to have to take the initiative in this conversation.
Still against the ground, I lower my wings and dip my head.
He responds in kind, repositioning his wingtalons and raising his neck to speak. “Rrrru’ag…”
His voice trails off as he gathers the courage to speak. Quickly, I translate him to say ‘You…’
The crimson dragon continues, “But I can’t be hearing your voice. Lithans are incapable of speech!”
Oh, wow. I knew it was coming, but I’m still astonished to hear a false-kin speak. I was right! They’re enlightened creatures like us! And what’s more, they seem to know I’m a Lithan. That proves it! They’ve communicated with Azurrel and the deities!
Instead of replying, the false-kin begins to slink away from me. Even though we’ve established communication, I’m still intimidating him. I force my feathers flat and mantle my wings.
And that’s all I plan to share with him. I won’t tell him about the flock, Keuvra, or my identity as a Chimera. None of those things are important right now, and I don’t want to overwhelm him with information.
Still, the false-kin holds his muzzle, fear-scent billowing from his scales. Isn’t there something I can do to assuage his fears? Perhaps he can sense past my friendly veneer and taste the hunger on my breath. Although I took a family of Jimbal before flying here, I rarely get to prey on false-kin.
“How are you speaking to me?!” he explodes, falling into an attack posture. “Tell me, now!”
My tail flicks, but I keep my talons planted.
His neck jolts in surprise. “The God of Creation? Does your kind have a pact with Azurrel as well?!”
A ‘pact’? What does that mean? Well, I suppose it’s similar. I roll my wings and transmit,
Technically, we’re more indebted to the deities who act on our behalf in front of Azurrel. Does that mean false-kin communicate with Azurrel directly because they don’t have a deity? Fascinating!
The false-kin before me pants heavily, and his gaze falls away from me. “This… it cannot be. How are you speaking to me without words? How could monsters like you have been granted the sacred Gift of Communication?”
“Hmph!!” the false-kin scoffs. “Just as we predicted!! Savage, unconscionable beasts, the lot of you!! Stealing our prey, driving it to the verge of extinction every snowbark! Stalking in packs, separating our precious dragonets by fang and claw! Do you have any sense of the torment you’ve inflicted upon our clan? Are you even capable of empathy!?”
…Wow, okay.
Not only are these Dragons intelligent, but they’re fitly spoken. Still, all I hear is the bleating of a pathetic prey-animal. As much as I wish I could transmit that, I need to keep things civil.
“Don’t call me that!” he snaps, unleashing a savage growl. “Dragons are intelligent, enlightened creatures! You and I, we’re nothing alike!”
A shallow remiss falls over me. I wanted an intelligent conversation with a false-kin, and I sure got one. I should have expected this response; Kin have preyed upon false-kin since ancient times. Their culture must be permeated by an ever-present fear of Lithans stalking them to come of age in the flock. As much as I would love to prove that we aren’t the senseless monsters they believe us to be, I won’t deny our need to survive.
False-Kin are prey… for now. Although our conversation was short, I’ve seen enough to confidently say that my Divine Flight to unite the moon extends to these lesser Dragons. They, too, should live in serenity beside Kin and Farlander. But I can’t change the world in a day. For now, this conversation is enough.
A rumble of disappointment rattles against my chest.
“That’s right,” the False-Kin scoffs, flicking their tongue. “I care not how enlightened you claim to be. I’ll do nothing to sate the curiosity of such a heartless monster.”
“The other…” A flash of wonder sparks in the False-Kin’s eyes but quickly subsides. He shakes his head and growls, “No, I don’t believe you. This was all a ruse! You’ll stalk me as soon as I take flight, chasing me to the ends of the continent until you kill me!” The False-Kin studies me through slitted eyes. Slowly, he shifts his talons, taking measured steps to back away from me. “If you so much as raise a pfod, then I’ll…!” The drakon stares at me disbelievingly. He snorts, then retreats until we’re at least five wingspans apart. His eyes flick to the canopy above, and he explodes with motion, leaping to the side of an elderus. He clambers the trunk like a fleeing spikehorn until he disappears through the lower canopy. The sound of leaves soon follows, and a red figure emerges into the sky, its wings flapping hard. ROOAR! ROARRRR!! I loosen a heavy sigh and allow my wings to droop. That’s an alarm call — he’s still terrified of me. I guess there’s no helping it. Did I make the right choice by talking to him? Much like my first encounter with Kuro and Enyll, I have a feeling that nothing will ever be the same between Kin and False-Kin. How will they react to the knowledge we’re enlightened creatures? Will they approach with more civility? Or will they have an even more lamentable opinion of us? … …I won’t change the world in a day. For now, this is enough. I tuck my wings and begin marching back to the clearing and back to the flock’s territory.