Befriending an Inferno

LaceyDreadth wrote:Catain touched two fingers to the nose of her large horse, pushing firmly. In response, Mistbreath whinnied softly and the girl allowed herself a smile. [Why "allowed"? Is there a punishment for smiling otherwise?] The horse wouldn’t move until she gave the order, which would be bad if she managed to die. ["Managed to die" makes me think that she wants to die] He seemed to know this and stared at her seeming to tell her that he didn’t want to stand there until he died. [So many mentions of death in one paragraph...]

“I’ll try not to die, 'kay?” The horse didn’t answer and Catain sighed. She took a cage from the back of the saddle, taking off the heavy cloth. Two fierce eyes bore into her and the girl grinned, pulling on a heavy glove. Russet, a large eagle trained from his hatchling years, bobbed his head and seemed to demand to be let out. Catain decided to comply. [She decided to comply? Meaning that she took the cage out for no reason at all, and simply decided to comply after the eagle looked at her?] After unlatching the cage, she stuck her hand in. The large grey, black and red colored bird stepped onto the glove.

“Wing. Follow. Watch. Go.” The words brought the bird to life, [While previously the bird was dead. Bird necromancy at its finest, folks] taking to the air. Those words trained to that one bird. [Uh... no. You can't train eagles. If you want to learn more about that, I suggest you look up "falconry". Basically a large predatory bird like an eagle stays with you because you're convenient for its hunting. You simply cannot train an eagle, or, for that matter, most other large birds of prey. The only exception is a hawk species called Harris' Hawk] Wing telling him to fly, follow to stay near to Catain, watch to ask that he warn her of any threats to either of their lives. Go pushed him into action. Russet would do nothing until she said ‘go,’ no matter the number of orders. [So he'd somehow remember every single command given to him before that point?]

The girl watched him fly off for a moment before she made sure she had everything she needed on her. Noting each tool she nodded, everything was there. Pushing her large, dark red braid behind her, she lifted the cowl of her cloak over her head and plunged into the Blood Forest.

The mist swirled around her [What mist?] and she matched the rhythm of the forest as she walked slowly. Her cloak, in a mottled pattern of grey and green, seemed to let her blend into the background. Much like all of the village members villagers, she was adept in the forest. Unlike her peers, she felt no need to conquer it; she was content to slip unnoticed by anyone and be alone with the huge trees that gave the forest its name.

Blood trees, known as redwoods to outsiders, were the hunting ground for their [Their meaning the blood trees'?] most feared enemies. Naturally, Catain had to kill one so she could be considered an adult and choose her own occupation. For the millionth time, she wondered who made that law as it made absolutely no sense to her and no one could explain it fully to her. [Some explanation as to why women are out hunting would be beneficial here, as this does not happen in most tribal cultures, much less civilized ones]

There was a sound in front of her and she froze. [What kind of sound?] Every part of her told her to bolt but she stayed still, her eyes peeled for any sort of movement.

Don’t look in any one place. Scan.

It seemed like she stood there for years, hardly daring to breath. Finally, she moved and started towards the clearing she’d found years ago.

Though she could move without being seen, she was hardly the best. What she excelled at was tracking and staying still. [A professional at staying still? I think I found my career choice] It was because of this that she was sent out here, to this specific clearing.[Why was a location specified for her at all? I was of the impression that she just had to kill one of these... whatever they are]

For weeks now, he’d come through her. [O_O Through her? Like... right through?] Ambling slowly and surely on the forest floor. [Who is ambling slowly and surely on the forest floor? This sentence has no subject] Only the movement [What movement? I thought there was a sound?] even showed he was there in the first place, else she would have missed him. Every time he came through, often stopping in the clearing to rest in the brief sunlight that hardly ever managed to penetrate the trees, he seemed to not notice her. [I thought he was going through "her"? How could he not notice her while going through her? ...wait, was that a typo for "here"? Was this piece revised or edited at all after you had written it?]

Her mistake was telling someone. Jral, the clan chief, had insisted she trap this dragon and kill it as her first. [Why?] Her parents agreed readily, grins on their faces as they remembered their kills.

But I don’t want to kill a dragon. It seems so useless. They haven’t come out of the forest in at least a year, so they don’t pose a threat. Going into their territory to kill them just seems stupid.

They’d learned a lot from the dragons, really. The beasts could be about the size of two horses or five time, ["Five time"?] but could go about the forest without being noticed better than any villager. Each dragon was camouflaged to fit in with its home, the Blood Trees. The villagers had gotten the idea for their cloaks from their enemies. Their bellies were brown and green, looking like the leaves high above the forest floor.

The beasts also had an immense patience that could not be rivaled by the humans. Catain had witnessed this, watching from a tree hideout she’d built as it moved slowly, belly on the ground, looking for anything that could be seen as food. [... I'm sorry, I'm having a real trouble picturing a creature the size of two horses prowling through a forest full of very snappy branches completely undetected. No such thing exists in nature, and a simple "take my word for it, it can totally do it" doesn't work here]

Not daring to move, Catain watched, trying to keep her body from trembling so much that she would be visible. After too many hours of sitting in the tree, [Huh? Many hours? Weren't we riding into the forest just a minute ago?] she began to relax and had to force herself to keep herself aware or else lose sight of the beast. Six more hours later, [No need for food or washroom breaks] the dragon finally caught a pandeer, a strange [Strange to whom? To the girl? Wouldn't she have grown up with these creatures?] combination of a leopard and a deer, bringing it down with one blow from its forepaw, claws still sheathed within its forepaw. The head nearly fell off at the blow, [If the flesh is not cut, the head would just bob around a bit. There is no physical way for the head to "nearly fall off" after being struck by a blunt blow] the neck instantly broken.

Hidden beneath flaps of crocodile-like skin that was pulled back to allow the wings to be extended. The dragon did this, the kill locked in its massive jaws. It jumped onto a tree, climbed up about a hundred feet and then pushed itself off and lifted above the trees until it passed out of sight. [Now I'd like an explanation why these beasts hunt inside a forest. It would be many, many times easier for them to just swoop down on their prey from the air. The pandeer probably have to drink every now and then, and a river doesn't have any trees around it that would impede such a manoeuvre]

When she’d finally gotten home, she’d discovered the villagers getting ready to go after her. The relief she’d suddenly felt made her collapse in the arms of her mother, tears streaming down her face. [Why did she feel relief? She let her prey escape. Why would she be relieved from coming back from a regular hunt?] With her friends and family surrounding her, she told everyone about the dragon.

Every part of her regretted that now.

She’d seen the dragon first, so she got first dibs on the dragon. Only her death would allow anyone else to be able to honorably kill the beast. [So the law about hunting down dragons doesn't make sense for her, but this law does?] And, of course, allowing it to live wasn’t an option. They could never live, the threat too great. [....okay, well, here's her explanation for why they had to go hunt them then. Did she conveniently forget about this point up earlier in the story?]

Glad for the protection Russet provided, [What protection can an eagle provide? It's good for attacking, not defending] Catain started making a trap, using strong branches on the forest floor and the rope she’d brought. [?! what? Weren't we in the village a split second ago?] Once sprung, the trap would close around the dragon, Blood tree branches closing in a net with fire and claw resistant rope. [Okay, here we have a two-horse-sized beast that breaks spinal cords of massive mammals with ease and without even using its claws, and this girl hopes to trap it in a cute little net? The "rope" had better be twisted steel wire]

The trap was complicated, but the design had been created by her brother, who’d taught her before showing it to the Phoenix Council--the village leaders. How he’d figured it out, she would never know but it was a stroke of the genius he was now known for. There were few who’d mastered it, and she was one of them due to her experience. [And what experience is that?] It had been yet another excuse to send a girl by herself to capture a dragon. [Yes, really, you still haven't explained why girls are out hunting dragons] None of the Phoenix Council had mastered the trap. Arguing and pointing swords at dragons was their specialty. [Why would they point swords at dragons? They're the village elders. Wouldn't the village collapse without them? Why would they go out to face dragons just so they can point swords at them?]

Moving slowly, she found some leaves and started scattering them over the rope. She was careful not to heap them all in one place, as she knew dragons were so much more intelligent than any other beast, even her beloved Russet and Mistbreath.

Don’t trip the trap, don’t step on the stupid rope. She repeated the words to herself, picturing the trap in her mind. [You say she's a skilled trap maker. Would a skilled trap maker really need to do this? Repeat the words in her mind?] The ropes were slowly becoming virtually invisible, bugs crawling over them as if they were nothing. Even a rabbit could crawl over it without setting it off. It something bigger to spring it. [There's quite a big difference between the weight of a human and a dragon. If the trap's designed for a dragon, I'm not sure why she's worrying in the first place]

“Okay, now to wait.” Catain said quietly, [to whom?] starting slowly towards the hideout she loved so much. Her steps were careful, trying not to disturb the leaves or the trap. With a dragon known to wander in this area, she wouldn’t take any risks no matter how confident in her trap making she was.

Russet screamed, his cry sending chills through the girl. Her hand flew to her bow, though her mind screamed of its inadequacy for bringing down the particular danger that haunted the minds of her village. [What danger is that?] An instinct to run almost took over but her training forced it away as she tried to stand still. Where, where is the danger?

Her mind was screaming, ears picking up everything and creating it into the danger. [Huh? Creating it into the danger? what does that mean?] There was a sound behind her [What sound?] and she bit her lip so hard that it started to bleed. Waiting a few moments, she started to relax when the sound came closer. [That's a hell of a training, to remain still when something is actively coming towards you] Breathing, heavy breathing. [Does she hear the thing's breathing? Or is it her own breathing? Catian tried placing the thing with every sense she could muster. ["Muster" doesn't really work here. It implies that she usually only has one or two senses available to her, and she needs to muster the other ones in order for them to work]

Move fast, shoot well. Eyes...aim for the eyes. Taking a breath, she waited for the sound again before whipping around. Her luck prevailed, seeing a pandeer bounding away from the sudden moment. [Moment? Movement?] She didn’t lower her already readied bow, knowing it could turn around and maul her if it felt too cornered. [What does lowering one's bow and being cornered have to do with each other?] Reacting to the instinct of a lifelong archer, the brown haired girl adjusted her stance. [What does her hair colour have to do with her stance?]

There was a creak and a snap and Catain had a millisecond to curse herself before pain surrounded her in a flurry of movement. The trap, designed to trap the hard-skinned dragons without harming them at all, tore into her fragile skin. No longer thinking, Catain screamed as she was surrounded by rope and wood.

The world hadn’t slowed down for her to watch it, moving too fast for her to really realize what had happened until afterwards. A sharp stick had punctured her thigh, a branch slamming into her forehead, drawing blood. The ropes had pulled her right arm behind her, a fraction away from either dislocating the arm or snapping it off. She was on the ground, the taste of dirt and moss surrounding her senses. Her pinky finger was twisted below her.

The dragon bone hilt of her knife chose to prod her cracked ribs, mocking her. Tears flowed freely from her green eyes, unyielding. Pain screamed from her wounds but it was the fear that some danger, beyond that of a pandeer was on its way. Russet wouldn’t warn her of such a normal forest being. No, a predator was heading her way. [I have enjoyed the last three paragraphs quite a bit]

She would die, and it was her own fault. Bleeding to death or being eaten while laying helpless like a bird with a broken wing was not an honorable death by any count. Even without regarding the village’s strange sense of honor, Catain was not going to enjoy death.

Though it hurt tremendously, she couldn’t help but shake. Bone chilling shakes that forced sobs from her aching body. She wailed, a broken being. Fear and pain had never been present in such a way. Her heart was everywhere; in her head, stomach, feet, where her skin and muscles where ripped open, beating wildly; arrhythmically.

“Mom! Jkal! Daddy! Harmot! Russet! Mist! SOMEBODY!” She called for people and animals far away. Russet heard her cry and seemed to appear out of the trees. He noticed her predicament with some alarm, looking around for what caused his master to become prey.

“Russet! Get somebody, anybody. Chew through the ropes. Do something!” Each command was frazzled, caught between ragged coughs and frantic sobs. None were those he’d been trained to understand and he only let out a small cry of annoyance and fear. [Okay, wow, this story managed to suddenly get 50 times better in the last few paragraphs]

The next cry he let out was one that she knew well; danger.

“Go! Fly! Wing! Go!” The bird didn’t hesitate, taking off into the trees as something large lumbered behind her. [Why didn't it go the first time she said "go"? Wasn't that the last word she was supposed to say?]

She listened as it came closer and she nearly passed out from the fear. The sobs and tears were unceasing, the pain bursting as she tried to move around and see what was stalking her.

Seconds later, she smelled char.

“No, no, no, no, no, no...” The stream continued until it came into view. It’s eyes, black, looked at her with curiosity. It sniffed her, moving closer. She let out a whimper and it turned it’s head sideways.

“Please...” Catain would never be able to say why she switched to pleading, the fear of the moment taking over her. Begging for her life.

She saw the dragon knew who she was; one of the villagers. The girl must have smelled of her fellow villagers. He must have known that her kind killed his. When he started to reach out a claw, she closed her eyes. It was considered the norm for her people to die with their eyes open, as if they were staring death in the face. Catain held no such values. Even if she did, there was no way she’d be able to do so in her current state of babbling.

When she realized she could steal feel the breath of the beast, she decided it was playing with her. Until she felt the rope holding her arm loosen. Her sobbing slowed with her confusion. The next thing she knew, she was hit by a blinding pain.

--

In what seemed like the next moment, she was opening her eyes, not remembering she’d closed them. The dragon lay nose to nose with her, a branch in it’s jaws. One end was coated with blood. Catain realized it had been hers. The dragon had ripped it out of her leg. [DAMNIT! I read that as "The dragon had ripped out her leg" at first, and was already cheering "Go dragon!" But then... D:]

I must have passed out. She thought, glad coherent thought had come back to her. [That's her first thought after seeing a dragon pull out a branch from her? Seriously?] Catain stirred, the dragon growled, moving back. He would have the advantage at a distance, fire stretching to consume her.

Groaning, she pulled herself to her knees, realizing the trap had been broken. Though able to withstand claws for sometime, the dragon’s teeth could rip through their rope with no problem. For a reason she couldn’t comprehend, the dragon had gotten her free from her own trap. [Explain to me why a predator like a dragon didn't eat her right away. Bleeding meat to predators is like honey to a bee, or a drunk girl to a frat boy. They can sense it miles away] She now grabbed the hilt of her knife, clumsily taking it from its sheath.

She was barely on her feet, shaking more than a leaf in a tornado, knife extended. The dragon let out a low growl but seemed unafraid of her minimal threat. In a moment, the tears started again. Gravity took the knife and her ability to stand. On all fours, she looked at the ground.

“Thank you,” she whispered, expecting to die any moment. It could be playing with her, like a cat with its mouse.

There was a thud as the branch fell from the dragon’s mouth. It lay down again, gazing at her with an almost amused look. [Okay, okay, here's what must happen: she thanks the dragon, makes friends with it, kisses it on the horns or something, and then just as she starts leaving, the dragon goes all, "Just kiddin'", and organizes an impromptu barbecue. If you do this, this will become my favourite story on the site]

Catain decided she’d try her luck and tried to still her ever trembling form. Nothing helped as the situation was still too close to her. [The dragon's nickname is now "the situation"] She started crawling to where she’d come from, hoping she hadn’t lost her sense of direction. There was a sound behind her and she knew the dragon was following her. [Yes...Come on, plot! Work out like I want you to!]

“If you’re going to eat me, please do it now,” she muttered. [Nooo! what are you talking about, silly girl? The dragon hasn't had its fun yet!] At least my sense of humor is returning, she thought dryly. The dragon said nothing, [assuming that the dragon can speak. Perhaps "made no noise" could be better?] ambling behind her like a cat who’d found its new favorite toy. [Now pounce, boy! ]

At one point, a half an hour into her trip during one of her five exhausted breaks, she’d found a large stick. [Half an hour just passed by. So the dragon was following her this entire time?] Using it as her support, she tried to stand. Though it took nearly long minutes, [Nearly long minutes? Never heard that one before] she was finally upright. Waves of dizziness nearly sent her falling to the ground but she held on with white knuckles. Everything seemed fine until the moment she tried to take a step with her injured leg. With a cry, she fell. The dragon skipped back a few steps in alarm. He moved forward, his head, about two times the size of normal horse head, a few feet from hers. It was obvious he wasn’t threatened by her. [He clearly is -- why else would he jump back in alarm?]

Catain eyed the dragon, sure of some sort of treachery. When it did nothing, she turned to her cloak. Suddenly, she wanted her knife again. There was no way she had enough strength to rip off a strip to tie across her thigh wound. Catain realized then that though the dragon wouldn’t outright kill her, she was going to die tonight. [And the dragon would dine tonight] She had no way to get home and she couldn’t save herself without passing out.

Biting back tears, [BITING BACK TEARS?! What kind of a mouth does this girl have?] she curled up on the ground, head resting on her arm.

Time spun out of control, slowing and speeding up at random intervals. She dozed off several times, brought back by sudden pains with a jerky twitch. It might have been hours, minutes, or days when she realized it, but at some point the dragon had curled up around her. [Why, why, why is a predator doing this... why...]

Never had she felt so small as when she was so near the beast. It wasn’t full grown, or so she guessed, but it towered above her. Being near it was warm [Dragons are usually reptiles. Reptiles are usually cold-blooded. Your dragon either has fur somewhere, or is a wizard] and she felt comfortable. Her blood-lost [?] mind couldn’t comprehend it as it suddenly stretched a wing over her body.

Catain fell into a fitful sleep, broken by shots of pain.

--

She awoke screaming, the dragon nosing her wounded leg. Her hand groped the wound, feeling only a sticky mess of blood. [Nope! At this point, there wouldn't be any pretty blood anymore. Now she should have some delicious green ooze and black pus over her wound. Considering that she's in a forest, and that a dirty stick has been inside of that leg, she shouldn't be able to move from all the pain] The dragon snorted at her, and reached over with a claw. He held her down, opening his lips a few inches. Wide eyed and panting, Catain watched with horror as he spit on her wound.

It burned like nothing she’d felt before [Given that it's a dragon we're talking about, is this a literal "burned" or a figurative "burned"?] but there was no release as there was before; she couldn’t pass out. Her scream was terrible and Russet seemed to join it, flying in from nowhere. In the next moment, he was flying off. The dragon made an odd sound, a cross between a mother’s croon and a cat’s purr.

Later, her leg was no longer hurting. Whether numbed or healed, Catain couldn’t tell. She didn’t care. The pain had ended; that was all that mattered. Sitting up, she glared [Why would she glare at it? When I was administered morphine for a shattered forearm, my smile must've stretched my face a bit - that's how awesome it feels when the pain finally goes away] at the dragon, who seemed very amused.

Bracing herself for the worst, she looked at her leg. Her pants leg was soaked in blood, both wet and dry. The smell was horrible, nearly bringing a wave of nausea. [Okay, so there's a smell. Where's the pus then? I WANT PUS!!!] As a hunter, she’d seen and smelled blood before [Wait, so it's the blood that she's smelling? Um... blood doesn't exactly have a smell... It's when it's starting to rot that it turns a bit less pleasant to be around] but never her own and never in such amounts. Catain didn’t want to think of the predators smelling it on the wind and heading towards her. [Like, say, a hungry dragon] Having a dragon that had taken a strange interest in torturing [Okay, I've given up my dream of the dragon barbecuing her at the last moment, but why does SHE still believe it? The dragon helped her leg twice. Why does she think it's torturing her?] would help keep her alive for a few moments longer, of course, but there could be better options.

A howl sounded out, nearer than Catain would have felt comfortable with. Her already pale face whitened more. Hopefully, it was a pack of wolves. A pack bear, with the size of a bear and a wolf’s lean body, would be the worst thing that could come; they were one of the few beasts to take on a dragon with the rest of their pack.

The dragon growled, standing to its full height. It reached its head up, a roar shaking its throat. Catain winced, not used to being so close when the beasts roared. Both beings waited, [She's already assuming that there's just two of them, even though you just mentioned there might be a pack] hearing nothing. Stirring before the dragon, she nervously put a hand on the ripped pants, trying to feel the wound.

All she felt was the cold wet of blood. [Blood that is still wet would not be cold] Setting her jaw, she started to separate the cloth from skin. There was no pain. Finally relaxed with the knowledge that whatever howled would stay away, the dragon watched her. He seemed impatient, not understanding her caution.

“You’re not the one who got a branch in the leg,” she muttered, gently pulling it back. Suddenly remembering she had water, she was immediately parched: or rather, she had just allowed herself to realize how thirsty she’d been this entire time. [Just now?] After taking a swig, she let the precious liquid run over her leg to wash away the blood.

Her eyes turned into saucers, and she frantically searched for the gaping hole in her leg. There was a white and pink splotch of new skin but she saw nothing. [...what. Okay, now I'm convinced that a wizard is sitting inside of that dragon] Trembling, she looked at the dragon in both surprise and awe.

He seemed to smile, almost saying see, I know what I’m doing. Grabbing the walking stick she’d abandoned who-knows how long ago and pulled herself up. It took almost no time. Swallowing her fear, she took at step and found there was no pain whatsoever.

“You’re incredible, you know that, dragon?” Catain didn’t let go of the stick, knowing the loss of blood couldn’t have been reversed. That’s why they’re not extinct. Everytime we injure them they either heal themselves or have another dragon heal them. If they decide to actually attack, we’re done for. [Yeah, given how friendly this dragon is and how incredible its healing abilities are, I'm starting to wonder what morons are running the village to be letting this kind of opportunity waste away]

The dragon seemed to think so too and he started to nudge her with his nose. She was surprised at his gentleness as she started to walk. Catain was hardly surprised when the dragon started following her, sniffing the air periodically.

--

“You know, I should give you a name.” It was the first word she’d said in around two hours. They hadn’t traveled nearly as far as she would have wished, her blood loss making her rest often and well. [How come the magic spit didn't regenerate blood? It had no problem regenerating tissue, and tissue is way more difficult to regenerate by a long shot] The one time she’d pushed herself, denying herself rest, she’d passed out. From the moment she woke up, she’d decided to stop doing stupid things like that again. [We've been adventuring for quite a while now. Is it still daytime?]

The dragon was sitting casually, scanning the area for any danger. He gave her a strange look, then resumed protecting her. [I wonder if the dragon also protects cows just before eating them]

“The only names I can think of have everything to do with fire...sorry. I know it’s a bit awful. You probably have way better qualities than just being able to breathe fire. The fact you’re helping me when I set out to kill you proves that. Anyway, how does Inferno sound for now?” [How about "Angel" instead? It heals her, it protects her, and it hasn't breathed fire even once while they were out adventuring]

Catain took his silence as encouragement. “Now that we’ve got that settled, should we continue, Inferno?”

Inferno gathered himself, standing and waiting for the girl to lead the way. Leaning heavily on the stick, she continued. [Why is she still leaning? I thought her wound was all healed up] It annoyed her how loudly she had to step; used to nearly silent footfalls, the steps she now took seemed like an announcement of her presence. Seeming to sense her discomfort, the dragon moved closer, growing tense.

The realization came like a falling tree; he trusted her instincts. Just as she was putting faith in his, Inferno was interpreting her own actions and using them to help her.

If these dragons actually decided to attack, there’s no way we could defend ourselves. They’re way more intelligent than we thought. Inferno isn’t just an animal, he’s more of a person than half of the people I know.

Her thoughts caused her to stumble. The fall was too rapid to drop the stick before she hit the ground and she put out one arm and closed her eyes. The next thing she knew was that she was being held up by her cloak. Though surprised, she readjusted the walking stick and leaned on it. The pressure slowly went away and she turned to see Inferno glaring at her.

“Sorry,” she muttered, continuing. Inferno let out a snort, his head shaking. Catain grinned, then wiped it off her face and tried to look properly chastised. Obviously not buying it, the dragon gave her a look.

“I though only mothers and best friends could give me that look.”

Catain smiled again and started again. The dragon lumbered behind her, occasionally growling when a pack of pandeer would come too close, inspecting the odd spectacle. Russet flitted above them, keeping away from the dragon but close to his master. She wished he was closer. The dragon was now more reassuring than terrifying but Inferno was very unfamiliar.

Then she smelled smoke. Stopping, she smiled graciously at Inferno.

“Well...I guess you should hurry away.”

Inferno, of course, said nothing back. Catain started forward again, surprised to hear the dragon continue after her. Just then, she heard something that both killed her and warmed her.

“Catain!”

The voice of Harmot, one of her best friends, rang out. Inferno growled.

Men and women, armed to the teeth, appeared from the direction of the village. Many held bows and crossbows, many swords. All of them seemed torn between watching Catain and keeping an eye on Inferno. They started to spread out, so one blast wouldn’t blow them all to pieces. Inferno growled, backing up a step.

“Hey, guys,” her voice contained her weariness and relief. The village members took it as fear.

“Don’t worry, Catain,” Harmot cried, eyes darting around as he tried to figure out a way to save her from her protector.

“I’m not.”

“She’s out of her mind with fear,” her older brother said, waving his own sword expertly. Several other muttered their agreement. Behind them, her mother was sobbing like she was already dead.

“Really! I’m perfectly okay! Inferno--”

“Fire!”

There was a yell as arrows flew through the air towards the dragon’s eyes. Inferno let out a great roar, flinging himself between the villagers and Catain. Screamed orders were lost in his growls. Harmot tried to get to his friend but was stopped by snapping jaws.

“NO!” The scream was lost in the din, the fear on her face interpreted as desperation to be home. “STOP!”

Catain was torn. Her loved ones were fighting her savior. [That's another good dragon name] She wanted to save them both but there was no way the villagers would take her word as pale and weak as she was. Mistrust of dragons was in the blood of these people. Yet she’d grown to like this dragon and knew that he would die if this kept up. No dragon was going to defeat all of these dragon slayers.

Looking at her friends, family, and neighbors, she wanted to tell them to leave but something in their eye scared her. There was a savagery she’d never seen in Inerfno, even when he didn’t know she was there. His kills were just for food; theirs was for a feigned protection.

Catain felt sick.

Some of the humans tried to sneak around but Inferno was smart enough to sense it. He curled up around Catain with a growl. She looked into his large eye, and saw his stubbornness.

“Why the hell did you go and help me?” Tears started to blur her vision and she didn’t bother wiping them away. Inferno blinked, looking only at her.

“You knew I was there, didn’t you? You never hurt me. How many times did you see me before you revealed yourself to me? Didn’t you know I was going to try to kill you?”

Inferno suddenly let out a pained sound, one that will never have a name, and she smelled the hot stink of blood. [Blood really doesn't stink]

“STOP IT! YOU’RE HURTING HIM!” They weren’t paying any attention to her, and she could hear them starting to cut into his armor.

Dropping her walking stick, she leaned into his side, ignoring the hardness of his skin. It was the first time she’d touched a dragon and she never wanted to forget it. He never stopped looking at her as his breathing slowed and finally stopped. She heard voices on the edge of her hearing and there was a great heave as the massive tail was moved out of the way. "It's all my fault."

Harmot grabbed her, holding her close.

For a moment, she hung there limply, then shoved him away. Silently, she picked up her walking stick and headed towards the first person she saw with a long bow and quiver. Catain only had to give him a look before it was given to her outstretched hand.

“Don’t follow me.” She said, walking off into the forest. Harmot started after her but she whirled on them. “Until you really realize what you’ve just done, I won’t return. That dragon was my friend and--” her voice broke as she thought of how much fun she’d had with Harmot over the years “you murdered my friend. Inferno saved my life. I’ll never forget that.”

It took only five minutes before they could no longer see her. From her position, she watched them look at each other and start to drag off Inferno’s body. She looked at Russet, who was perched on a sapling beside her.

“Find dragon. Go.” [I like how the eagle knows what a "dragon" is]