Contrition

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Or so it was thought. It was all too easy for the humans to believe in the creatures’ mystical and prompt occurrence. The truth, however, was far more plausible. Dragons had been in the world, originated in that very valley to be precise, long before any human stumbled out of its anthropoidal subsistence to pull a sword out of a rock and claim king. All it took were a few rogue, lizard-breathed halfwits to reveal the long-standing sequestered knowledge of the dragons’ existence. And for what? To prove the superiority of their race? To see the look of horror in the inferiors’ eyes as they burned villages, citadels, their children’s souls? Any simpleton could see these truths without the carnage and vanity. But alas, not even dragons are created equally. This, she knew without question. For it wasn’t long before a war between the two alpha predators erupted. Sure, it went well for the dragons in the beginning, but raining hellfire on unsuspecting villages can only accomplish so much. Humans adapt. They rally. They get angry. They learn an enemy's weakness and exploit it. They reproduce at an unparalleled rate, and it didn’t take much longer than a decade for the tides to turn - to watch the cockroaches infest the dragons’ caves, woods, even the mountains.

That’s why her secret was so precious. Innocent to the treachery of the world. Something to keep hidden. Nine months of brooding had passed and it was time. She could feel the electricity in her bones. Becoming a mother was a serious responsibility to be sure, to protect one’s child from the diminished hope of the world, yet encourage them to live, to hunt, to step out of the dark and not be frightened, and hopefully, to do the same for their own progeny one day. Thankfully, a day that was far off.

The egg began to wobble, a rattling sound on the floor of the cave. It was blue, the same color as her scales, but within that color, as firelight flickered over it, there was a cascading waterfall of magenta and teal illuminating the cave walls with effervescence.

Having never done this before, as all dragons only get one shot at being a mother, she presumed it would be easier to welcome the child in a smaller form, with hands that could hold and soothe. So, she arched her long neck, more elegant than a swan’s, stretched her wings, as powerful as the tradewinds themselves, and emitted a bright light from her chest. Then, her large mass shrunk and contorted into the skin of a woman.

She was short and plain, as she wished to be in this form, her eyes were a dull blue and her hair a mousy brown. No dragon was ever a fan of this human form, it was confining and feeble, and often in pain from the slightest feats of exertion. But, it was an easy enough parlor trick to live amongst humans and travel through their lands to find new feeding grounds without being noticed. Her own body was fierce and intuitive, but she admitted that the human-monkey paws could detect more movement, more magic and static, than her thick padded paws and piercing talons. With these hands, she could feel the child inside the egg, as it heaved and rolled, eager to face the world with that unparalleled sense of positivity only felt by one who has yet to be disappointed by it. Through this, she herself was being born again to experience the joy of naivete and impractical ambition.

The egg continued to shake and rattle for some time, until a small chip in the shell made a grand pop that echoed on the cave walls. A crack stretched the length of the shell. Then, to her surprise, the egg did not continue to chip away, but instead exploded, thousands of shell bits scattering around her, one even managing to lodge itself in her soft human cheek. She removed the shard and a trickle of blood ran down her face, but any semblance of mortal pain was instantly ignored as she looked down in her arms. A sopping baby dragon, looking quite bewildered, stared up at her with large almond-shaped eyes. She blinked many times, trying to adjust her pupils to the light of the fire beside her. Mother placed her daughter down on the floor, and her heart leaped as the child took in her surroundings, a plain cave made of limestone, clean and free of bats and any other messy creatures, with a firepit in the middle.

This is home, my child, home.

Placing any new mother bias aside, she had to admit, this little dragon was beautiful. She was a vivid teal and her scales were iridescent, a paragon of health usually only achieved when a dragon is feasting on human-fed, fatty livestock. The child’s wings were already defined with musculature. Her neck was refined like a swan yet crested like a stallion. Eyes amber, muzzle small, nostrils round. An image of perfection and a prize to be sure. She would be hunted by humans for her scales and talons. Male dragons would be enchanted and try to steal her away from her mother.

As her mother sat and fretted over what could be, the child chuffed and then began to wail. A piercing cry made with good lungs and a voice box fit for a grown dragon, her mother was perplexed.

What is it, child? What is wrong?

Rivers poured from her eyes and the cave dropped crumbled rocks as the din prolonged.

Perhaps this human form is scaring her.

With that same flash of light, Mother transformed her body again, this time her silhouette returning to its appropriate massiveness. She lowered her muzzle near the child and breathed a warm, comforting puff over her scales. The noise stopped in an instant as the child turned her head to see the source of the air. Above her, a hundred times her size, was her mother lovingly looking down at her. Teeth bright white and sharp, eyes dark and endless.

It’s working

The child opened her mouth again, and a sound so shrill, so glass-shattering emerged from her mouth that her mother worried the nearest humans, hundreds of miles away, might overhear.

Perhaps I made an error in the hatching process. This child has enough fire in her belly to melt the world. Why is she so displeased?

For days the child cried while her mother tried everything in her power to soothe the savage beast. She found her the best food, the best water, checked her for toothaches, belly aches, ingrown claws, anything out of the ordinary but found nothing. She even tried crying with her, hoping the child might pity her and recognize how hard she was trying. Finally, after seven days of tortuous wailing, the child discontinued her tantrum and looked around to find her exhausted mother in the corner of the cave and sauntered over, settling into the warm crook between her belly and her hind leg.

For three days the child slept.

She woke up to her mother’s great face nestled very close to her little body, a maternal eye trained on the child’s belly as it would rise and fall to her breath. The child licked her mother’s nose.

Sigh. I love you, my child. I am grateful you are relieved of your troubles. Now, we may begin.