The Trappings of Attachment

NECUMBA HAD JUST FOUND A DEER. Her favourite. Her great feet hopped in delight, the sound of talons clipping stone echoing over the ravine.

She was having quite the morning, she had convened the whole night through at the assembly of dragons. Though there were fewer and fewer of them in attendance each year, that many dragons in one place was always a grand affair. For such solitary creatures, that much company was almost as exhausting as the flight over had been. She had allowed her wings to rest on the last stretch of her journey, a lazy stroll through familiar lands to cleanse the mind before her hibernation. She had thought she might be hibernating hungry before mother luck had placed this injured little foal in her path.

The poor thing had been stunned by Necumba’s arrival; it’s not like she had been subtle in her approach. Her tiredness had made her careless, clambering through the brush. The deer was frozen to the spot on the other side of a large puddle at the deepest part of the ravine. It was quivering, its spindly knees locked out, the small movement reflected in the stillness of the water.

Necumba took a moment, crouched, taking in the sweet sight of palpable fear, the rapid rise and fall of it’s breast, ladened by panicked breath. She took a deep inhale through her snout, it even stank of fear. But that smell was mingled with the scent of blood, sweat, fur, and warm flesh.

Her senses overwhelmed, allowing instincts to take over. She advanced in one quick pounce, the deer had no time to respond. Its death was quick and clean, Necumba always had found something distasteful about prey when it thrashed around in her jaws. Put her stomach right off.

After her meal had been picked clean, instincts relinquished and exhaustion set deep in her bones. She was almost tempted to hibernate right there in the open air, the cool sun of the autumn dawn gently warming her scales. But she forced herself onto all four legs, one by one, as she reminded herself that the recent vigour of the human warriors had left the open ground a battlefield. Not the most relaxing of stays.

Before setting off for her favourite mountain cave, hope in her heart it was not already occupied, she took a second to stretch in the light before confining herself to the darkness for winter. She closed her eyes as deep pleasure rippled from snout to tail. It was a good stretch.

But as she opened her eyes again, the inner lid pealing back with a soft squelch, she froze. Mid stretch. Her snout was near the floor and her tail high in the air, both wings extended full and she stilled completely. She’d spotted the strangest thing little thing, watching her, just out of the corner of her prereferral vision.

Her great head, maw still bloody from the kill, tilled ever so slowly, to bring a small little human fledgling, at the edge of the ravine into sharper view.

The dishevelled, podgy thing was smaller than most human fledglings she had seen before. It stood starring at her, almost as stunned as the deer had been. Was this ravine some sort of cornucopia of easy meals? She must remember its location.

But she rethought that optimism quickly, perhaps the little human’s pack followed close behind? Her senses keened for any sign of them. Debating her next move, still frozen in place and staring in bemusement she must have looked very strange indeed. She became conscious to this as the fledgling’s stunned expression broke, and it giggled at her.

Well, clearly it was too young to have learned any sense of situational fear, humans really did have the most stupid of fledglings.

“Big stretch” it called out to her in a voice high pitched and under-pronounced.

Necumba could only blink in response, tail and hind still skyward. She could not form human sounds from her throat but she could understand them well after centuries walking this land. She puzzled why the little thing was stating something so observation. It served very little communicative purpose.

She let her wings gently furl inwards as the little thing waddled confidently over to her, grinning ear to ear.

It came nose to snout with her before reaching out and patting the dragon on the cheek.

“Blue!” it exclaimed in its silly little voice, patting her scales. She wasn’t really blue, more of an iridescent violet, but she supposed this human might be too underdeveloped to see her colours properly.

Its tiny, pudgy, little hand came away from Necumba’s cheek a different colour entirely. It was stained crimson with the deer’s blood. The fledgling stumbled back a little, staring at its own fingers in awe.

And then it did something totally illogical. To Necumba's utter horror, the fledgling went to put those bloody fingers in its mouth.

Seeing it almost in slow motion, Necumba sprung into action. Reaching out with her front left foot, she grabbed the fledgling by the wrist. She yanked the stupid thing forward and swished its crimson hand in the puddle beneath their feet.

It wasn’t until all the blood had loosened from its pink stubby fingers that the dragon released its wrist. The fledgling stumbled back again as it was released, strangely, its stunned face had started to scrunch and wrinkle. Necumba looked on warily, unsure of what was happening until it threw back its small head of blonde curls and wailed to the high heavens.

Necumba wasn’t sure what to do, she panicked. Dragons didn’t have their own young, dragon eggs were born of the deep rock of the earth and pushed through its layers like a sprouting plant. A dragon's only mother was mother earth, and she was anything but material. Necumba had nothing to go on here, she hopped a little from foot to foot in front of the, now-screaming, fledgling in her shared distress.

The noise it was making sliced right through her, it made her both desperate to help and to get away all at once. Either way, her motive was clear, this noise has to cease. Her head whipped from side to side as she tried to find something to give it, and offering to show her contrition usually worked with full-grown humans. Those that did not attack on sight of course.

The fledgling’s screams turned to blubbering as it watched her struggle, then blubbering turned to giggling once again.

Necumba was thoroughly confused now, this fledgling’s emotions were quite unstable and proving to be incredibly stressful. This was not the stress she needed going into hibernation, she was going to have haunted dreams if she was not careful.

She’d now stilled to watch the object of her pain laugh at her once more, but as soon as she did still, laughter was immediately gone, face resumed scrunching.

No, no, no, anything but that sound again. To prevent further perforation of her sensitive ears she resumed her hopping and head swishing. The small human stopped scrunching, it stared wide-eyed and, eventually, thankfully, giggled for a third time.

Necumba was gratified by this and continued to wiggle and toss her body about for the small human’s benefit, bringing her wings into play. The air current her flapping wings developed landed the fledgling on its hind. Necumba made a mental note human fledglings didn’t seem to be very stable on their feet. But now sat, its chunky legs kicking against the dirt beneath it, the fledgling's soft, infectious, high-pitched laughter echoed through the ravine.

Necumba couldn’t help but smile, the corner of her lips curling. Success swelled her chest at the much-improved sound. The fledgling seemed contented now. Though Necumba would likely muse over this interaction for many years to come, she was ready for it to be finished.

She washed her maw in the puddle and gave the small human a lick over the head, making its blonde fuzzy fur stand on end before she turned and took to the skies.

Kicking off from the ground, the familiar feeling of soaring into the air soothed her. She was exhausted, but now that she was cave-bound she found a little extra energy from the wind under her wings.

She barely made three flaps of her great wings before she heard the wailing start up again. She had thought it now contented. She’d never known humans to be so temperamental. Surely it was not still mad about the puddle incident?

She circled about the ravine, watching it from high above. The little thing had it’s head turned upwards, directly towards her, as it screamed into the air. What did it want?

For the second time that sunrise, Necumba debated her next move, not something she had to do often.

Maybe the fledgling was in some sort of need? Trying to tell her something? Its method of communication was not what she had become accustomed to from other humans and she wasn’t sure what any of it meant. She worried its cries could be calling out dragon warriors to its location, alerting them of the beast it had found. But no, she reconsidered, the cries felt more like cries of distress. She needed to be careful even if it wasn’t calling to the warriors, other humans might be drawn by the noise. Necumba knew humans were very protective of fledglings that hadn’t reached full height.

Despite this, and her gut rolling in protest, she descended gently and landed in front of the fledgling again, it's head fur still on end.

She really should be going to find a cave before all the good ones were gone, she didn’t want to hibernate late. It could throw off her whole spring if she didn’t get her full four months in. But maybe she could spare a few minutes to help this distressed fledgling.

It stopped crying as she landed but its face was still quite scrunched and its bottom lip was quivering. She tried hopping from foot to foot again, with no effect. She added a head swish, her long neck swinging from side to side. She added some flapping wings, even a tail swish but nothing was working this time. Feeling pretty stupid, and a little unbalanced, she stopped.

The fledgling was still scrunchy faced but watching her, so she tilted her head to the side, trying to communicate to the fledgling that she was listening. If indeed it had something to tell her. But it just looked at her with its wet, reddened eyes. There was a tug of pity in her gut that mixed with that sense of danger that grew every minute she stayed. But the little human looked so vulnerable, and very alone.

She felt compelled to help even if she didn’t know quite how. There was a human colony not far from here, she could take the fledgling there. Not ideal for timing but it will have to do. But first, she needed to find a way to stop the blubbering for good.

She wondered if the little thing was hungry. She looked around the ravine, not much to eat here unless it liked deer bones. She knew the humans were carnivores but didn’t think they had the right jaws for bones. No, she’d have to find something on the way.

She used her snout to nudge the little fledgling along to narrow path the ravine wove out to the surface. As she nudged, it continued its blubbering, its two hind legs stomping along.

As they reached the surface they emerged into a small clearing, this must have been how the little thing had found its way into the ravine. Necumba took a break from steering the fledgling to pause at the top. She breathed deep the fresh forest air, partly for pleasure but also because her keen dragon senses could smell all that lay beyond the dense line of trees.

She surveyed the forest, it dripped with morning dew and the sun had not yet risen high enough to dispel the low clouds of mist that had settled through the night. They looked out of place, like the night had yet to realise it was bleeding into the day. The mist and soft light of that cool autumn sun made the forest glisten and haze in coordination. As Necumba observed, the dynamic beauty of the forest comforted her deep in her soul.

Despite the rich tapestry of information her senses absorbed from the land, she still didn’t know the right way to get to the human colony from here. But the little human had already started waddling off in a chosen direction, its back curved over and arms swinging defeatist at its sides as it continued its pained noise.

She chased after it, anxious not to let it get too far on its own lest she lost it. Lest it bumped into something else in these mossy woods that took less pity on it than she did.

She tried to nudge it back to the cleaning but it threw out a dismissive arm at this, catching her across the snout. Anger roared instinctively from the contact, her belly heated with the fire that brewed there. But she corrected herself, it was just a fledgling after all. Maybe it hadn’t been taught good manners yet. As she wiggled her snout to readjust, she wondered at the instruction of its parents.

She wondered more at its parents. She wasn’t sure if this fledgling presented as an average fledgling by human standards. It seemed naïve and incapable, but was this down to parental fault? She was aware humans had their young very undeveloped compared to most animals, the fact that this fledging was walking, even though poorly, meant it must have seen a couple of summers already. Yet its speech seemed highly unsophisticated. She wasn’t sure if that was usual for its age. She wondered how long humans took to reach full maturity, something she had never bothered to ponder before. Dragons matured in their first year of hatching, they would be too vulnerable if maturity was delayed much longer. Many did not even survive that first year.

Considering the prolonged vulnerability of the humans, she was starting to understand why humans might have all their spears and bows. Maybe they couldn’t protect themselves well enough without them.

Dragons were lucky to be born with all they ever needed. With fire in their bellies and talons on their toes they never needed to bother themselves to craft anything. They looked after their nature-given weapons too, filing their teeth with animal bones and taking care to clean out under the talons to avoid rot.

The fledgling by comparison was woefully under-adapted for this world. Its bare skin looked like it was cold to the air, with barely a scrap of fur to cover it. It possessed no scales, no talons, no working front legs. Its teeth were filed down to the blunt grindstones you usually find in prey. It was like humans had landed here from another planet entirely, they were so fleshy, gangly, and just... odd looking. Their long limbs and the way they walked was so alien to the rest of the forest’s residents. They had no like. Maybe that’s why they were so angry all the time, maybe they were just scared. If Necumba had been born into this world so unprotected, she’d be scared. Maybe angry too.

Lost in thought, she hadn’t noticed the fledging pulling up some mushrooms from the forest floor. Their long white stems with were topped with a pale slimy yellow cap and a light grey underbelly. The site of them shot immediate alarm through her. The death cap mushroom. She swatted them out of the little human’s podgy hands. How many times must she stop it from putting death in its own mouth?

It didn’t cry this time. Though its face still scrunched, it was a slightly different scrunch than the one it had shown her before. She puzzled at the subtle difference. The first face scrunch had looked like it was holding itself back from a release of emotion. This scrunch showed all emotion, strong and still on the face. It looked almost.. annoyed with her.

Well, there was plenty of that to go around, saving the fledgling from itself was a task that tried the last dregs of her patience. And they had only been in each other’s company a few moments. Under the irritation mixed another emotion that she was surprised by, and tried her best to ignore. She felt a strange anxiousness to ensure the fledgling’s good opinion of her in the face of this unwarranted disapproval. She pushed that feeling down as she nudged the little one toward some good mushrooms, field mushrooms, all white cap and stem with a deep brown underbelly.

The more moments she spent in the fledgling’s company the more she realised it had much yet to learn.

Necumba sat on the damp grass, watching over the little thing as it ate the good mushrooms. She noticed that it took no time between bites to check its surroundings, to look behind itself. How curious for a creature to be so vulnerable and so unaware of its own vulnerability. It was really very lucky she was here to see it home. She wondered how its parents had let it wander off in the first place. She was already sure she didn’t like them much for doing so.

When it was finished eating, it lost all interest in mushrooms and proceeded to waddle up to different trees and throw its arms around them.

“Tree!” it said, at each one, looking back at her. She couldn’t help but smile as she nodded to it, encouraging it in its obvious assertions. Maybe it was trying to show her that it knew what things were called? Like it had with the colour of her scales, even though it had been disastrously wrong in that regard.

She bent her neck forward to where it was still hugging the tree and gestured to some dew-covered asters that were clustered near the trunk. She nodded to them while maintaining eye contact with the fledgling.

It didn’t understand at first, so she gestured to the tree the fledgling's arms were still flung around with her brows raised. She’d seen humans punctuate a question with this gesture and hoped the little one had picked up on the subtly of human facial gestures too.

“Tree!” it repeated, understanding. So she gestured back to the magenta asters.

“Flower!” well, Necumba supposed that was close enough, it was a flower after all. The little thing needed to work on its vocabulary.

She gestured to the field mushrooms, a pine cone (which the fledgling didn’t know the name for), a leaf, a hoof print (to which it cried, Horsey!).

She felt a swell of pride at the fledgling's answers. She felt patient and forgiving when it faltered. What a funny feeling, being so genuinely impressed at such a mediocre performance. Perhaps it was the fledgling's own self-pride that was so infectious. The way it beamed at her, wide-eyed, waiting for her approval. Perhaps it was how the little thing grew more animated in excitement with each nod Necumba bestowed.

The sun was rising higher now, and the mist starting to clear. An undercurrent of tension continued to course through her at the passing time, she would definitely not find her favourite cave free now. But again she pushed her churning feelings to one side, she’d have to make do this year, this little thing needed her more.

***

They reached a human village around midday. She’d known they’d been close for the last hour or so, the quiet in the surrounding forest unnerving her, as if nature daren’t stray too close.

The sun was now beating down through the trees on the strange pair of walking companions. The weather was unusually warm for the time of year, it had burnt off all the cooling mist of the morning. As the sun rose, so had Necumba’s sense of urgency. Even a day lost could wreak havoc on the hibernating circadian rhythm.

The more she ignored the ace in her bones, the more the pit in her stomach churned. As if her body was trying anew to appeal to her senses. But what could she do? The pit in her stomach would be far worse if she had abandoned the human fledgling. She nodded to herself a little, convincing herself was choosing the lesser pit.

The fledgling noticed their approach to a village before even her keen dragon sight spotted it through the brushwood. It must have recognised the surroundings, at home in the thinning, quiet forest. It increased its pace, seeming even surer of the way than it had been before. As it broke the tree line, Necumba held back, fearful of being spotted. The fledgling paused for a moment and then waddled into the village. It didn’t look back. Not once.

Necumba was startled at the abrupt end to their little morning adventure together. It was not that she had expected any formal parting or gratitude, not even if it had been a full-grown human. But as it wandered off back to its home, the situation felt inconclusive.

She should have known better, the humans didn’t respect the gifts of nature like the rest of the forest did. She just had to look at their village, the beautiful trees they had felled and stripped to make homes. Did they not understand the trees already provided shelter? They did not need to be warped into giving it. Had they no respect for the ancient creatures of the forest? Clearly not the way they hunted her kind with ice and flint.

As she watched it waddle across the clearing, Necumba thought of her little fledgling as a full-grown. Its fuzzy blonde head fur would be longer, it’s wide eyes narrowed with experience. She saw it with a spear in strong and toned arms that used to be little rolls of fat. As she let her imagination run she saw anger in its face, the anger it had shown when she smacked those death caps out of its hand. But now the anger on its matured face was practiced, passionate, unyielding. It was a natural maturity. How easy it was to picture the look she’d seen on the face of many a warrior on her little fledglings face. It was the natural development of the creature, it had shown its true nature to her the whole morning. She just hadn’t been looking, hadn’t wanted to.

She chastised herself at her own fantasy of their attachment. She had never expected this pain that was growing inside her at the little thing's departure. The pain of the future that loomed over their association. Dragons were not maternal, so what was this tugging in her gut growing from the minute it left her side? What was this desperate need to stay close to it?

They’d come this far. She wanted to make sure the disruption to her sleep wasn’t futile. That’s all.

She watched as her little fledgling ran straight into another human, a full-grown one, grasping its legs from behind as it had with those trees. The full-grown human wavered in balance, partially from surprise. The little one rebounded from the impact and nearly falling to its hind.

She smiled at the familiar clumsiness she’d become accustomed to that morning. The full-grown human turned in shock and its alarm only grew as it saw the fledgling beaming up at it. Its full-grown arms began flapping, punctuating the shouts it sent out to any other humans near enough to hear it. Necumba watched on curiously as they proceed to run off in all directions. There was a second full-grown next to the one shouting, a female if its fur length was anything to go by, who reached down and picked up the little one. The female human cradled the little fledgling into the dent between her hind legs and body. Both full gowns were looking around wildly now and shouting. They were paying little attention to the fledgling whose smile had left its rosy cheeks as it surveyed the commotion.

Had they no idea what the little thing had been through this morning? Could they not see their shouting was upsetting it?

But then she saw what the shouting was all for.

Two humans, full-grown, strong and lean dragon warriors, burst forth from the chaos. Their faces were stricken with emotion and shock under their war paint.

Hand in hand they ran to the fledgling, ripping it out of the arms of the female who held it. Together, clutching the fledgling they fell to the ground, gripping it tighter with their combined arms. All three proceeded to wail together.

So, these must be the parents then. Despite the display of emotion, Necumba was moved only to anger. The fledgling was clearly being crushed in their emotional display, an emotion they had only bought on themselves when they allowed their fledgling to wander the forest alone. It wasn’t the fledgling's fault, and yet they proceeded to neglect its comfort as they processed their own guilt.

Before she could restrain herself, a small growl escaped her belly and rumbled through her clenched teeth. A nearby full-grown human tensed at the sound and looked around warily. Necumba was forced to slink back into the brush as it came over to investigate. But she didn’t too move far, she wanted desperately to look on, to know more of how these parents tended to the fledgling.

She wasn’t sure what she hoped to see, anything of protection, of the fledgling's needs being met that would soothe her fear for it. Something that would will her body to leave the little thing in its haven so that she could return to hers.

But, in her distraction, she had not moved far enough. Nor had she paid close enough attention to her surroundings. Instead, she looked on, absorbed by her concern. She’d let these new confusing feelings, and the nausea they catalysed, dull her senses.

Lost, she didn’t hear the full-grown humans softly call for reinforcements, she didn’t see them creep into the brush. Her sensory mind had given way to feeling. She had little knowledge of her being surrounded until the first spear was thrust into her wing.

Necumba roared from the very pit of her inner turmoil, challenging it into her shock and pain. Dragon wings were the most sensitive part of their body, the thin membrane able to feel every current of the changing wind. The pain, it’s safe to say, was excruciating. But not in the way that debilitates, in the way that ignites.

Her other wing extended and drew high above her before it could be lanced too. Her body contorted to pull herself out of range. But as she turned her full attention to the fight, she noticed they were on her from all angles and she was still in range. She tried to fly but the spear in her wing had buried deep into the ground and pulled her back to the earth with a thud. The effort had ripped a small tear in the membrane, she roared again, her pain ringing out over the forest and village alike.

At least the return to the ground had taken out a few of the dragon warriors, crushed like fruit under the weight of her great body. The rest had stumbled or fallen back from the impact.

She’d have to free her wing to escape. Her tail swished at the remaining warriors, keeping them back as she used a foot to pull the spear from her wing. She took half a second to breathe through the pain before she soared into the air. Once she’d gained a sufficient height she rounded back and burned the remaining warriors to a crisp.

A quick victory but she was furious she'd let herself be caught out. She sailed above the village, seeing the full extent of the compound. But she took little of it in, her eyes were glued on the clearing just beyond the spot where her blood stained the ground.

The fledgling, cradled in its parent's arms had watched the whole fight. It was now watching her soar away, emotions strong on its face.

It broke from its parent's arms and ran in the direction she was flying, not very fast on its clumsy little hind legs, Necumba’s heart broke watching it try.

And then it fell, face first into the dirt. The concern for her own safety was gone in an instant as she stilled mid-air to watch the little thing pick itself back up. She noticed its parents rooted to the place where their fledgling had run from them. They were staring up at her, opened-mouthed. How useless they looked in their dumbfound.

The fledgling had picked itself up now, knees dusty from the fall. It stared up at Necumba, hovering in place above, close enough that the flap of her wings rustled its little blonde curls.

“Bluuue!” it called out to her, strained. It reached a little hand out in her direction. She wasn’t sure if it was sad she was hurt or that she was leaving, perhaps both, but the message was clear. The little thing had cared for her as she did for it. She had not been mistaken. The connection she had felt on their odd little adventure had been mutual.

She watched its soft red face as it trailed with tears. But they were different tears than it had shed before, there was no scrunched face now.

This couldn’t be how things ended she thought to herself. It wanted her to come back, maybe it even needed her. Maybe she could save it from its fate to become a dragon warrior, save it from the fate its parents would steer it to. She couldn’t take the little thing away, she knew that. It deserved to be with its people. But they were going to teach it to hate her and it was breaking her heart. It was more painful than a hundred spears to the wings.

She smiled, giving a small nod to the little thing before she lumbered away, one wing carrying more of her weight than the other. As she dragged her pained body through the skies she vowed she would return.

She would come back to see her little fledgling, every year after her hibernation was complete. Every year until the day it drove her away with spears itself. Until the day it wields flint in her direction, she would visit, bring it little wonders of the forest, and teach it how to talk to dragons. Teach it of another world, a world it could belong to if it wanted to. Teach it there was another path, let it choose at least.

She knew her endeavours might be in vain, she might be signing herself up for a slow, painful death of the heart. The fledgling might grow into a great dragon warrior like its parents. The fledgling might even bring her more than just death of the heart, one day the warrior she would love so dearly might bring her a death cap mushroom. And she knew already if it came to that, she would take it from the warrior, she would eat it whole.

She knew now the fate of her long life was in the hands of a little fledgling warrior with curly blonde fur.

How curious, she logically knew she still could just walk away. She could see clearly the other path her life could take, an easier path that avoided all that pain. But most curious of all was how resigned she already was to this path in front of her. She was choosing the path of pain willingly. Theirs was a fated attachment and she knew already how futile fighting it or running away would be. Instead, she would just carry a small hope in her chest each year. A small hope that her influence, her love, would be enough not to destroy. And that it would love her too.

In her long life, Necumba had loved and lost many times. But this love felt different. She realised some loves are wholly unyielding and stripped from conditions. In turn, they strip you of choice, strip you of needs met to ensure theirs are instead. When you find that for the first time, you are released from the pressure of being the most important thing in your world.

As she flew she dreamed. Of the adult warrior with its soft blonde fur, soothing on her scales as it leaned against her, enjoying together the light of the early spring.