Black Scales II

The closer Orla got, the stronger the stinging stink. Smoky of course, with a chemical edge. The way it scorched the tender insides of her nostrils and the back of her throat, it bothered her more than the sharp black rocks tearing at her feet.

The sun would be up soon, warming the stones. Of course, they say the creature is more likely to be active then, but it could be watching her even now, and waiting for its moment to flame.

The rocky spine jutting out into the water felt lonely and exposed. Nothing to hide behind. Hard to run.

If it comes, Orla told her pounding heart, I'll jump into the lake. The outer corners of her eyes noted how shallow it was here. There would be no leap into it, only an ungainly splashing run. Surely quite as sharp on her feet as dashing back the way she'd come, with the water biting at her, and weighing her down. Maybe the beast wouldn't even rouse itself so far as to actually come after her, needing only to turn its head and breathe.

Better, though, to imagine that unlikely escape, than the alternative. What would it be like to die by fire? No. Don't think of it.

Orla glanced down, looking for that tell-tale glint of dragon-scale that promised safety, or even pleased surprise, approval... and later, wealth. A nicer home, with shoes, and proper windows, and a mother to pour the bottles out and make stew from something other than dog. Maybe Elsie would come back and live with them, with her baby.

Daydreaming could be deadly, but at least it gave her courage. And why not, after all? It could be real. It could happen. The other children didn't venture this close. Except for my brother. She squashed that thought like a cockroach, and forced another step.

If there were any of the black ones to be found, here was surely the spot. Close to the Lair. Where the rocks were black and sharp, like the scales themselves. Lots of them looked lumpy, as if they'd been melted. Orla swallowed hard, and looked around again. Unwilling, for the moment to keep scanning the ground. Still nothing.

The mouth of the cave was here somewhere, according to the stories. Any one of these shadows could be concealing it. Any of those tendrils of mist could be smoke from a lazy nostril.

Orla put her forearm across her nose and mouth and blinked through the tears streaming from her stinging eyeballs.

Perilously close now, at any moment it's awful snout would appear through the mist and rock, and be the last sight she saw in this life. Or maybe... Maybe the beast wasn't here. It hadn't killed her yet, had it?

Then... where was it? It couldn't very well just fly about the place without everyone seeing it.

Orla felt a flash of something like hope. Either it was asleep, or gone somewhere else. Either way, she had a chance to find what she came for, and get far away. Before it was too late.

Squatting down, Orla sifted through the stones much as she had on the shore of the lake. She recoiled when she found the first charred bit of bone, having laid a hand on it quite by accident. With a mental shake she pressed on. The bones were small. Could be Peter. Could be me. Orla bit her trembling lip, and clung to her desperate resolve.

"You shouldn't be here," said a voice from the rocks ahead. "You should go, before I kill you. I'll do it, you know."

"Who are you?" Orla called out, without getting up. Some instinct nudged her to present a small target.

"I'm a dragon, obviously," came a haughty reply. "The dragon. And I'll... I'll... I'll toast you and eat you if you come any closer, so there!"

"You don't sound like a dragon," Orla said, caution warring with curiosity inside her.

"How would you know? I bet you never spoke to one before."

That's not a dragon. That's a child. Like me. Trying to scare me away so she can take the scales for herself. She doesn't sound scared at all, so she knows the dragon isn't here.

Caution shrivelled and died, and something else blossomed in its place. Perhaps the creature wasn't here now, but it could be at any moment, and that meant swift, decisive action was the best way forward. Orla moved closer to the cavemouth, still searching, but faster now, and not troubling to keep her movements small or quiet.

"Are you deaf?" the voice tried to bellow. "Do you see my smoke?"

"Yes," said Orla, looking at the wisp climbing into the early morning sky. It hadn't been mist, then. Her fear was washed away by a terrible urge to laugh. "But it doesn't change when you're speaking, and that doesn't seem right to me."

"Oh, crap," swore the not-dragon. "I didn't think of that."

Orla took another few paces and there she was, the child who would be a dragon.

+

Alright, I lied. I didn't like the ending, so I rewrote it but it ended up being too long. You'll have to come back tomorrow for the last bit. Probably the last. Could be one more after that, depends how well I like the end. Sorry!

Thank you for reading! 🙏