To Be a Dragonry Pt 4

Fael was lucky to find a piece of the pine forest that was full of many kinds of mushrooms. They tasted dry, bitter, and even foul, but in his mind Fael had come across a hidden treasure. The dragonry had eaten at least half of the stock when the warm-water sensation pooled in his mind for the second time that day, startling him.

Arona’s back, young dragonry! Zono’s voice reverberated in Fael’s mind. Find your way back to camp.

I’m eating, protested the beast, swallowing his mouthful with a nonchalant sway of his tail. Hours ago Zono had told him to move his tail and wings frequently so that his brain would recognize them as a part of his body. The sooner his mind recognized that he no longer had the body of a maelin, the better he’d fare on this journey.

Zono’s shock manifested as a burst of white light, lingering in their shared minds. Eating what? I haven’t taught you the basics of hunting! Unless you already know how, of course.

Mushrooms.

Mush—why? Do you resent your change so much that you’re eating mushrooms as a way out? Zono’s anger appeared in the form of sparks, each alternating red and orange in color as they flitted around in his mind. They became more prominent as the light of his shock faded to oblivion.

I’m a maelin, Zono—er, I still have maelin blood. Maelins can eat any plant, fungus, or bug we want.

The man’s mind went blank, a void of nothingness. Are maelins some sort of nature spirit? You know what—just come back. We can talk over dinner. He receded from the purple dragonry’s mind.

Fael sighed and craned his neck over to his left and used his tongue to pull a brown mushroom into his mouth before he stood and lumbered from the area. Not long later he reached the tree Green Eyes had made camp in. The tanned-skin man had already gutted and skinned a deer. He was tending to a pan that was suspended on a flat, medium-sized rock; the rock was half-over a fire Zono had lit with the torn and wadded paper. Beside the fire was another rock, most likely meant to hold the cooked meat. Resting on the deerskin were the liver, heart, fat, and choice cuts. The meat had been neatly sliced into little cutlets and Fael could even smell seasoning.

To Green Eyes’s right was Arona, messily devouring her prey. Entrails spilled from her deer’s belly and hung from her own mouth. Fael stared at her upper lip—it was flipped back over her muzzle, revealing pink skin and a nose-less jaw.

Zono glanced upwards, smiling. “Ah! My nature spirit has returned!”

How does Arona breathe if she doesn’t have a nose? Fael chose to settle outside of the roots of the tree, not wanting his bulk to disturb the pair.

“Barrahs have breathing tubes behind their forelimbs,” responded the man, grabbing some tallow and dropping it onto the pan. “But enough of that! Tell me about you.”

Fael arched his back in a stretch. He even flared his wings, feeling the elbows pop and sensing the muscles that connected them to his back strain with the effort. What about me?

“Why don’t you start with your society? Who leads you?”

Fael got comfortable where he lay, tucking his tail close. Well, I live in a village that’s split into three parts. The Queen, who leads the village, lives in the largest section.

“Matriarchal—I like that. In my travels I’ve only encountered a few female-led civilizations. What do you eat?” he asked, slapping some liver slices into the pan. They began to sizzle and pop.

I told you, mushrooms, plants, and bugs. We also eat our cattle, the boars, sheep, and deer. It’s tradition to kill them first and let their bodies rot, but we also cook our meat fresh, especially when there are visitor in the village. We even raise vultures and let them led us to rotting carcasses. Fael’s mouth watered as the scent of cooking meat filled his nose and lungs. We also bake pies, tarts, and stews.

Zono fixated his green eyes at him. They were bright in color and had an unnatural shine to them, as if they were exuding light. “What do you give your young?”

Fael rested his head on the roots, scratching his jaw on the rough wood. Maelins lay eggs in the bodies of boars that have been infected with a parasitic fungus. By the time the eggs hatch and begin to eat their way out, the boar would’ve rotted and the fungus would’ve rooted it to place. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Fael couldn’t stop a snort of laughter.

An expression of horror had overwhelmed Zono, and even Arona had paused in her meal and managed a somewhat disgusted look despite her upper lip still curled over her muzzle.

Uttered Zono, “Maelins are backwards nature spirits, huh?” He muttered a string of words under his breath. “Here I am, thinking you’re born of flowers and honey, but no!” Zono threw up his hands. “Corpses and parasitic fungi! Maelins are parasitic in nature, aren’t you?”

Fael chuckled, the rumbling sound within his chest hitching with each exhale. We are, but only with the small boars and the deer. The vultures are sacred and we only kill the sheep when they are sick. We do have a separate herd of deer for work and travel.

The man didn’t respond; he instead speared the cooked meat and placed them on the other flat rock to cool. He used his hand to grasp four more slices and threw them into the pan. Then, to Fael’s surprise, Zono lifted his hand to his mouth and licked the blood from his fingers.

What are you, a vampire? cried the dragonry, pricking his ears and staring. He lifted his head from the root and leaned forward. What was Zono? He had the ears of an elf but his snarky demeanor was far from the polite but elitist behavior of the elves. The glow of his eyes separated him completely from the few other races Fael had seen in his life.

“You’re surprised to see me licking blood, parasite?”

I’ve never seen you do anything so…feral.

Now it was Zono’s turn to chuckle. “I am not a vampire, but I’ve seen a few.”

The dragonry flicked the last few feet of his tail. Then what are you? A type of elf?

“We like to disguise ourselves as elves, I’ll admit.” Zono moved the liver slices around in the pan. “The elves came from us. They lost the glow of their eyes and other important abilities, but they never forgot their history.”

If the elves are your descendants, why do you dress like them? Now that he thought about it, Zono wore clothing that was similar to what the traditional attire of the elves that lived northwest of Fael’s village. The elves, who named themselves the Elves of Atavastia, often wore leather boots and blue pants that they import from a city down south. Over their shoulders they wore t-shirts and thin vests, either made from the wool of the sheep Fael’s village raised or from the cattle the elves took care of. They even rode barrahs that looked like Arona, only smaller.

The man smirked, flipping the meat in the pan. “So I can relate to my relatives. Just because I’m old it doesn’t mean I’ll act old. I rather enjoy the antics of the youth. By the way, how old are you?”

I’m fifteen.

Zono stared, incredulous. “What? Really?”

Yes. Do—uh, did I look older?

“With those large eyes of yours and that childish face,” replied the elfish man, “I guessed you were an aged-up child-thing. A red-eyed child-thing. I had my reservations about changing you.”

Fael pursed his lips, ears swiveling back. I’m still angry about that, Zono.

“You can be angry all you like, parasite.”