The Ones Who Hunt

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

At least, there hadn’t been for as long as any written record on parchment could tell. There were plenty of pictures though, ancient paintings on old cave walls that showed huge wings, long spiked tails and torrents of fire. No one knew why the dragons left. Some thought perhaps the valleys of their gentle mountains just got too small for them. Perhaps the food became too scarce or the winters too harsh.

And yet inexplicably, last summer as the crepe myrtles came into flower, they had returned.

They came in ones and twos at first, flying reptiles no bigger than the sheep dogs that barked at them. Alice had watched them for hours, sneaking away once her chores were finished to climb up the grassy hillocks and watch them play. Her excited hazel eyes followed their every movement. These little dragons rolled and tumbled, pouncing on one another like the red foxes Alice had often seen playing among the pine forests.

She knew she would get into a lot of trouble if her ma and pa found her up here. Whilst the children of the villages found the dragons amazing and exciting, the elders were more cautious. They didn’t trust these newcomers. Their fears seemed only to increase as the larger dragons arrived.

Beasts as big as a house descended from the sky in a swirl of colourful wings. They ambled about in the valleys, overlooking the smaller hatchlings and peering with interest at the humans and their carts as they nervously rode by. The villagers feared the worst. Surely these huge animals would need a lot of feeding. Their prized sheep and goats would surely be targeted.

But as it turned out, the reptiles didn’t much care for sheep or goats. Alice watched with great interest as they used their massive claws to dig up mushrooms, peel soft bark from trees and hook down branches with the freshest flowers and fruit. The dragons dove in and out of the streams, gobbling down the little silvery fish, frogs, and crayfish. They seemed content in their lives unbothered by their new fearful human companions.

‘They’re so pretty,’ Alice sighed, her little fingers twisting the long strands of grass.

‘You’d better not let pa hear you say that,’ Meredith, her older sister, grumbled as she made a third attempt to stitch the tear in her skirt. She had two fingers in bandages already. Sewing just wasn’t one of her strengths.

‘I don’t understand why all the adults are so afraid of the dragons. They haven’t done anything.’

‘Because they have teeth as long as your arms and some of them can breathe fire,’ replied her sister flatly.

‘Just because they can, doesn’t mean they will. Bartie’s ma has a magic rune that can turn your hair but she never uses it.’

‘No rune stone can stop dragon fire. Pa says human magic doesn't have much of an effect on dragons. They are the strongest creatures around, born from the old world,’ said Meredith knowledgably.

This was fascinating enough for Alice to tear her eyes away from the two baby dragons playing in the valley to look straight up at her older sister. Meredith yelped as she stuck her sewing needle into the tip of her finger.

‘How do you know that?’ Alice asked excitedly.

Meredith rolled her hazel eyes as she sucked on the tip of her sore finger. ‘Because the old cave paintings are covered in dragons.’ Beneath the village was a wide cavern full of paintings. Many of the paintings showed deer with massive antlers, huge white eagles and striped bears the size of cottages. One part of the cavern was much older than the others and its painting were far stranger.

‘Alice Larissa River, don’t you dare even think about it,’ her sister growled.

Alice blinked innocently up at her. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

…

It was very dark at the cave mouth.

She was supposed to be helping her cousin round up the goats in the bottom field. The sun was starting to set and she had precious little time to have a look at the old dragon paintings. Alice had tried to be good, really she had. She spent the last few days occupying herself, chasing the chickens with her sister, cleaning out the barn with her pa and baking bread with her ma.

She tried to keep her mind off the dragons and where they might have come from, but every time she caught even the glimpse of one in the sky, she couldn't look away. Her dreams had been filled with the sound of enormous wings and exciting faraway places. Surely, they must have seen the most amazing things! Finally, she couldn't contain her curiosity any longer.

She took out a small, polished stone, an igniting rune delicately carved into its surface. She took the torch off the wall and held it over the stone. There was a little whoosh of magic and the torch was lit. She held it up triumphantly and peered into the depths of the cavern beyond.

The cave was incredibly eerie. It felt colder than the world outside, contained and somehow compressed. It was the sort of place that held sound prisoner. Alice rocked on her toes. Suddenly this didn’t feel like such a good idea, but how else could she learn about dragons? Certainly no one in the village would tell her. Maybe these dragons were completely different to the ones that had lived here lifetimes ago? She held her breath and stepped forward.

She didn’t have to walk far before her torch became the only light available. She knew the path wound down, spiralling between huge granite pillars until the space opened up. Nothing moved in this old world, not the scuttle of mice or the ruffle of bat wings. Nothing. The path in front of her ended and an icy wind crept from the huge chamber beyond to welcome her. The more she stared, the bigger the cave looked. The space was somehow claustrophobic in its largeness.

She steeled herself and walked on. The paintings were even more magnificent than she had thought. She wasn't tall enough to hold the torch very high. The torch could only light up patches at a time. These were dragons, there was no mistaking their beautiful wings, frilled heads, long claws and pointed tails. There were big dragons, little dragons, and some still carrying eggs in their huge foreclaws as they flew.

She thought, as she took it all in, that these dragons looked uncomfortable. The little ones weren’t playing in the paintings, they were all flying. Was it just the artist's imagination that captured the snarl on the beasts' muzzles? Maybe the humans and the old dragons couldn't get along? That would also explain why the villagers were so uneasy. She wasn't sure why but despite the paintings’ beauty, they gave her the creeps. Chills whispered up and down her spine and she suddenly very much wanted to be somewhere else.

Alice turned and raced back the way she had come, the wall of paintings swallowed up in the darkness behind her.

…

'Where on earth have you been?' Alice's ma demanded, as she inspected her daughter's sweaty face and dirty boots.

'Sorry ma, one of the goats broke away all the way down to the creek,' Alice lied. Her mother peered suspiciously at her as she washed her hands and face in the bowl. The smell of a hearty lamb and barley casserole had Alice's belly rolling with hunger.

'I’d better not find you talking to those flying reptiles. They are dangerous, Alice, no matter how pretty they look,' warned her mother and Alice was struck with a sneaking suspicion that Meredith had mentioned her new obsession to their parents.

'But ma, aren't you even a little curious where they have come from?' Alice dared to ask. There was the sound of the heavy footfalls that could only be her father’s. His wide frame edged through the doorway, wood for the fire piled up in his arms.

'Those beasts are not domesticated, Alice. They are wild and they are dangerous. Hopefully they will move on when the snows come. Until then, stay right away from them,' he warned as he piled the small logs next to the hearth.

'But-'

'Alice,' he rumbled in his "don't argue with me" tone. Alice sulked and went into the kitchen to fetch plates for the table. Conversation over dinner was drawn right away from the topic of dragons. Meredith talked excitedly about her friend Katie's pregnancy. They would all be meeting in the village square to help with the weaving of a blanket for the new mother, a tradition that went back as far as anyone could remember. Honestly, Alice couldn't think of anything more boring than sitting on the ground and weaving for hours on end with a group of elderly women.

She tried to peer out of the windows to see if any of the dragons were flying about, but her ma had already drawn the old curtains across. The little cottage was small but very homely. Whilst no one in the village could be called wealthy, they did have a small, well-kept church and a three-roomed school where the children learnt to read, write and make all the basic magic rune stones one could need for family life.

Life here was steady, calm… boring.

Before the dragons, the most exciting thing to happen was collecting honey from Mr. Bracket's honey farm. The village was so isolated that the only news they ever received was from the wagon of the traveling scout who came every month or so to deliver letters and the extra goods that the villagers couldn't make in town such as coffee and patterned fabrics and parchment. Alice didn't like the idea of living her whole life here, day after day. Making the same bread, talking about the same things, seeing the same people. There had to be more to the world.

The dragons weren't just new and exciting, they represented something far bigger and wilder, a life outside these gently rolling valleys. As Alice dipped her bread in her casserole, she made up her mind to find out for herself. She would go down tomorrow and speak to the dragons herself.

It took nearly the entire morning to get away. Her ma, perhaps sensing her wayward intent, kept her busy all day. She cleaned out the chicken pen, milked the goats and helped pa trim their cloven hooves. They had a good-sized herd of goats and Alice’s ma often made goat cheese from the left-over milk. Alice helped carry the extra bread, eggs, and goat cheese into the town square to sell at the morning’s market.

Alice watched the other children playing as she took a few bronze coins from the schoolteacher, Emily Sutton, in exchange for a load of bread. Alice didn’t have many friends. The village went through a harsh winter during the years Alice was born and only one other mother had a baby the same year. The other children thought Alice played a bit too roughly or was too young to join in their games. As Alice grew up, she spent more and more time on her own, which was just the way she liked it.

Finally, as they packed up their little stall after noon, Alice’s mother turned to her. ‘Go check on the goats, darling and be sure their water troughs are full.’ As Alice hurried away her mother called, ‘And not one step out of the pasture!’

She refilled the water troughs, her arms aching from the heavy buckets. As soon as they were full, she clambered over the fence and raced down the grassy hill. Her heart leapt with excitement at the sight of two huge dragons watching over a hatchling. The hatchling was coloured with a smattering of cream and lilac, its limbs still a bit uncoordinated as it chased butterflies through the clover. The two larger dragons turned their elegant muzzles toward Alice and she came to a stop. Cheeks flushed, heart fluttering with nervousness, she tipped up her chin.

‘Good afternoon,’ she said, nervously.

‘Hello little human.’ The voice of the dragon was deep and slow, rolling as though it had all the time under the stars to talk.

‘I was wondering if it would be alright to ask you some questions? You’re ever so beautiful and I wanted to know where you came from,’ Alice gushed.

‘We have come a long way. Ask your questions, little human,’ the second dragon said placidly.

Alice couldn’t help but grin widely. The two adult dragons had brilliant silver scales. As she peered at them more closely, they seemed to be old injuries that had healed; cuts and gashes from battles long ago. Truly these creatures were incredible. ‘So you’ve seen lots of places then? Have you ever seen a volcano?’

‘Oh yes. Many places. A lake of salt that reflects the stars even during the day. Blue lava, hot enough to melt metal and mountains that are hollow and filled with musical bones.’

Alice shook her head in amazement. ‘So, have you decided to make our valley your home?’ she asked hopefully. To her great disappointment, both dragons shook their heads. The little hatchling, delighted to have someone new to play with, pounced on Alice’s boots. Alice giggled, reached down to pet the scales. They felt smooth and warm. The hatchling brought her a stick, waving it about until Alice took it. She laughed as the wee beastie shook its head, trying to tug the stick back like an old terrier playing tug-of-war.

‘Soon, we must go again,’ rumbled the old dragon.

Alice let the little hatchling take the stick from her hand. ‘Surely you can stay a bit longer?’ she pleaded.

The huge male shook his head, the weak afternoon sunlight glinting off his horns. ‘We must move on. Dragons are always on the move.’

‘But why? Don’t you like it here?’ For a moment, she thought those huge crystal eyes showed sadness.

‘Oh yes. But it is not for us to stay. And, I’m afraid, it is not for you to stay either.’

Alice frowned in confusion. The hatchling whined, upset at being ignored. She pet its lovely purple scales until the little beastie purred. Its hind leg thumped the ground in pleasure. ‘What do you mean? This valley is my home.’

The dragon nodded. ‘Yes. We would not have come if we knew people lived here.’

‘Because the villagers are afraid?’ guessed Alice, her gaze briefly wandering back toward home and the far-off curls of smoke from the little chimneys.

‘No. We cannot stay and now you cannot stay.’

Alice puffed out a breath, her hands landing on her hips. ‘I don’t understand! The villagers will get used to you and there is plenty of food!’

‘It is not your people that are the reason for our need to leave. Where we go, they follow,’ said the other dragon.

‘Who follow?’

‘They are the reason we left, the reason we must always leave. We rest, but they find us. We fly, but they track us.’ Alice felt suddenly cold. The little hatchling had stopped it’s play. It waddled between the huge fore-claws of it’s mother, twittering with agitation and sudden fear. The hairs all along Alice’s arms stood on end.

‘What tracks you?’ she asked in a whisper.

The dragon looked at her, it’s many scars and missing scales seeming so much deeper and more uneven than before.

‘They are ancient, before man, even before us. They are the ones that hunt. And they are coming again.’

—

END