“Caelan? Are you available to speak for a moment?”
The marten’s ears twitched back over his shoulder. He grunted, pressed his freshly shaved paws back into the mud mixture to knead it, and then glanced over toward his mother. “Yes, of course. I have been feeling that – I could do more if I – help to rebuild the village, as opposed to… continuing with the bricks…”
The woven rush floormats tapped and crackled gently beneath his mother’s step as she approached. He felt her warm, comforting presence waft across him from behind, then felt an ear twitch again when she settled down to sit beside him. “It’s…” She took in a breath. “Not that. Not exactly.”
Again Caelan kneaded at the mud, the sharp, almost ammonia stench of the curdling, curing mix tingling at his nose. He looked over at her again. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” His mother’s nose twitched as well. Upon making his way back to the burnt ruins of the village, the first thing Caelan had learned was that it was due to her oversight and management that everyone had managed to make it out safe and sound. In the wake of this, Elder Fog had elected to abdicate his position early, and had already begun the proceedings to name her as his successor; as such she no longer shaved the fur from her arms, with the skin having only recently begun to prickle back over with the beginnings of new growth in the few days since. “Given your behavior during the fire. What happened then, and after…”
His heart sank. Caelan turned back to the mud held in the bucket between his legs, twisted his paw, pounded his knuckles into the surface – blinked as a splash of cool wetness slapped up across the side of his muzzle. I ran away, you mean, he thought; I panicked and disappeared. I don’t even remember what happened. I-
“-performed very admirably,” she was saying, her voice sizzling at the interior of his ear. Once more he tilted his head. “Not only did you keep both yourself and Ajax safe, but the other dragons managed to follow his scent to safety as well. We finally just rounded up Salo and Mux, which means-”
Hearing his name, the squat dragon shuffled his broad, flat snout up underneath his caretaker’s arm and wedged himself in towards the bucket. Caelan chuckled – he had forgotten that Ajax had followed him into the hut here – and leaned his weight back against the great beast’s body.
“-that they’re all accounted for.” His mother waited until he looked at her again, then smiled softly. “I’ve spoken with Elder – ah, excuse me – with Fog. We both agree that with your cool caution in a time of such strife, and having exhibited the ability to care for not only yourself but also your beast…” She bowed her head. “We agree that because of these traits, we are willing to allow you to travel with the caravans carrying the bricks east. Not only this, but you will be made to head the caravans and guide their way, once you know it.”
And the pounding of his heart turned to a soft, sweet fluttering. Paws buried to the elbows in mud simmering with its own latent heat, he stared at his mother, then over at Ajax, then back to his mother again – and he turned and threw his sticky, sloppy arms around the huge reptile, Ajax’s chest and throat rumbling with the mirrored excitement, his thick tongue flicking out and tickling at Caelan’s face-
-and his cheek, and then his jaw, and his neck again. The marten giggled sleepily and brushed that tongue away, the sensation of cool, wet grass soaking into his fur; he swallowed, smacked his lips, and pulled himself closer to Ajax where he lay, turning his muzzle to nestle his nose more comfortably into the dragon’s shoulder… and then blinked. And did so again. And as he sat up, the thin blanket fell gently away from where he had pulled it across the two of them.
And Caelan looked out across an unfamiliar clearing within an unfamiliar landscape, trees which looked the same as all the others in the swamp reaching up to the sky from where they had sunk halfway into the muck, the remains of last night’s fire sitting safe in the little pit he had dug. The latent moisture of the earth had soaked through to fill the small moat around the fire itself, helping to dampen the coals from underneath; the marten shifted, pulled himself up further, stifled a yawn, and then sighed. Beside him Ajax stirred, but did not awaken.
That’s fine. He rose to his footpaws, stretched his shaved arms up over his head – it had been a week or so since his last trimming; as he did so he could feel the tingly little prickles of his pelt beginning to grow back in – then yawned again, and reached to the side to scratch at a spot just above his tail. That’s okay. I just… I think I need a minute to… come back. I’m… we’re…
He looked around the clearing, the images of his dream fading into wispy smoke, the memories of reality shocking in to fill the gaps. Bit by bit he recalled, everything slotting into place, and then when he blinked again he could not remember what it was about which he had dreamed.
Okay. He cleared the gunk from his throat, swallowed, then looked back at the remains of the fire. I know what to do. We know where to go. From here, it should be just… further east, and… and then…
And his vision began to blot and fog over at the corners of his eyes. Caelan blinked, then did so again, and swallowed once more. His throat tightened; his lips tugged at the corners; his whiskers twitched, trying to flatten against his head, and his tail swung and lashed and pinned around his leg. He took a breath, then another, and then the next came in a great, rushing sob, and he took a step and fell to his knees – and one paw pressed down into the moist earth as tears dripped freely from his face, chest heaving with uncertain sobs, heart thumping in his throat. Each quick, ragged breath refreshed the taste of the swamp in his lungs, the same as everywhere else yet still completely and totally unfamiliar.
I’m lost. He wrenched his jaws together, felt his teeth chatter, and sobbed again, sticky strands of saliva swinging from his maw. I’m lost. I don’t know how to get home. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know where anyone is, and- And he rolled over onto his rump, bits of grass and mud coming up with his paw, and tried to wipe the tears from where they soaked into his fur.
“I miss you,” he breathed, the words hissing out in between choked sobs. I miss Bracken, and the other dragons, and Soma. I miss my mother. “I miss you, I-”
Then a firm yet soft weight thumped against his shoulder from behind. Caelan’s heart skipped a beat, and the sobs caught in his throat; he blinked through the tears, wiped at his eyes again, reached up with that mud-stained paw… and felt Ajax turn his muzzle to nuzzle more firmly into the marten’s cheek, lifting his nose up along the line of his jaw. The dragon took in a breath and then let it back out again, cool air rumbling softly, tickling his whiskers; he licked his chops, thick tongue curling up along the underside of Caelan’s chin, and then nudged his nose in closer.
Still trembling a little bit, Caelan blinked again, sighed a shaky breath out from parted lips, then moved his arm to wrap it around the beast’s chest. Slowly he turned himself, drew his legs up in between himself and Ajax’s body, then leaned in to rest his head across him – and just held him there for a moment, cheek resting against cool velvety scales, fingers spread along the subtle ridges of his back. One of Ajax’s stout forelegs half-stepped forward, briefly pushing the marten back; Caelan adjusted again, then grunted as Ajax did so again-
-and then the dragon stood over him, allowing him little room in the narrow space between his low chest and the ground underneath. Down here Caelan could feel the pulsing of his heart and the rhythm of his lungs, his wide tongue coming out again and again; the reptile tilted his head, looked down at his handler underneath him, tilted his head the other way, blinked, blinked again. And then he leaned in and flicked his tongue out again, and Caelan could not help but giggle softly.
“Hey.” He sniffled and wiped at his face again. “Hey. Okay. Okay. I get it. Thank you. At least I still have you. I just… need to…”
Bit by bit he extracted himself from beneath the beast’s weight, Ajax tromping forward another few steps to try to keep him there. Caelan brought his paws up along the dragon’s snout and lifted him up to face him, then leaned in to touch their noses together; Ajax rumbled in sweet delight, then once more curled his tongue out across the marten’s chin.
“Thank you.” Caelan nuzzled down along Ajax’s neck, drawing in that soft scent of mud and grease and metal, and let his arms drape down across the beast’s shoulders. His fingers nudged at the liquid coils of the silver chain. “Really. But I think we should – continue on our way…”
There was little for Caelan to do in terms of packing up their camp, and before long he and his mount were back on their way through the woods, sticking to solid ground where they could and then slopping through the low marshes where they could not. He breathed in the ever-present aroma of the swamp around them, keeping his ears perked to the whispering of the wind, the song of the birds in the trees, the hoots and calls and coughs of the other creatures slinking around in the muck.
He closed his eyes and pressed himself down against Ajax’s back and neck, arms wrapped gently around the beast’s front. He felt the pulling, tensing, trembling of thick cords and pads of muscle sliding beneath leathery skin, the latent power and determination of the beast himself, the directed focus warring against his inborn curiosity to explore the world around him… and Caelan turned his head and nestled himself in against Ajax’s neck again, just riding the motion, feeling the rhythm, breathing in his scent.
At least I have you.
Foul-smelling water dripped from his ankles, and as he shifted his posture it felt almost as though Ajax were a slimy stone coated in soft moss. Caelan’s lips twitched with that image, imagining the dragon as he liked to spend his time back in the village with the majority of his body submerged in the swamp muck, enjoying the passive sickly heat of the marsh with only his eyes and nose protruding above the surface; when he rose for his feeding or daily training all of the discolored muck would slough off of him, often with strings of moss or algae hanging from his various ridges and nubs, and then Caelan would have to spend several minutes extra picking everything off so he could remain in top performance shape, and also so that he would not stink quite so bad once the sun made its way through the trees overhead, and-
And Caelan yanked at Ajax’s shoulders to draw the dragon to a stop. Thick toeclaws scraped through soft earth, tearing up bits of sod as he went; his thick, long tail swung around to dissipate his momentum, then swept slowly back towards his other side. As he stood still Caelan could feel the slow rocking of heavy breaths from underneath him; he patted at Ajax’s side, murmured some words of encouragement, then swung his leg off and slid to the ground. The marten looked one way, and then the other, and then back again.
A road… Trees cleared in both directions, the earth pounded into packed mud where grass failed to grow. That must mean there’s a settlement somewhere. Am I still heading the right way…? So if we head this direction…
But the further he walked, the more his confidence faltered. Striding with Ajax at his side, wanting to give the dragon a break from the onslaught of travel, Caelan glanced over his shoulder, then looked forward, then back over his shoulder again and again. He slowed to a stop, sighed, reversed his direction and motioned the beast to follow… then after a few minutes sighed again and turned the other way once more.
“Gods – dammit,” he hissed, and pounded a fist into his thigh. “If Mother just would have let me go with the caravans, then I could have at least had some… rudimentary knowledge of our surroundings, but…” He looked up to the sky again, the clouds passing by unbothered. “Never left. Never permitted to leave.”
How far does it go? he found himself thinking, stewing in his own annoyance. Then another, more shocking thought, sending a cold chill pulsing through his heart: …I already missed it, didn’t I? If it was just myself and Ajax the night of the fire, then… there’s no way we could have gone far. It was only for one night. So we should have already passed by home, right?
Gradually his pace slowed to a stop. Ajax continued on for a few steps further, then paused and swung his thick neck around to look at his handler. Caelan held his sharp gaze, then looked up towards the sky once more; each breath he drew shivered a little bit more with the return of his frustration welling up from inside, and when he opened his eyes the clouds had spread and fuzzed out. Then more with the next blink, and he wrenched his eyes shut to try to will away the tears, and wiped at his face again.
But this time when he opened his eyes, he had to wipe at them again, and squint towards the horizon. That looks… like… He rubbed them again, then gasped with relief and excitement. Travelers! Riders… four of them it looked like, each astride the strange, huge beasts that could only be horses. He had seen one once as a pup, and would have forgotten the event had it not been so horrible: the ground in this region was of course far too soft for them to reliably serve, and this particular instance had been along the road to the mud pits where another traveler had strayed too far and then promptly rode his mount into the muck so that its legs stuck and broke.
So they’re outsiders… but still Caelan waved his arms, moving to meet them along the trail. Just passing through. From the north, most likely? I think Mother said the swamps only deepen to the south…
“Hail,” he called, then tried again. “Hail. Hello! Might I – ask you…”
Something tingled in the back of his head. Ajax sidled a little bit closer, attention riveting to the muted thump of shod hooves on packed mud. Caelan watched the riders as they each slowed to a stop on approach, horses tossing their heads, bridles clattering, tails swishing. An otter – again Caelan’s ears twitched; a local? On a horse? – in the back, then a slim, slender, smallish wolf-like one, some kind of cat with short, thick ears and big eyes, and then a wolf which more closely fit the proportions to which he was accustomed. A jagged, torn ear flicked his way, and the larger wolf in front tilted his head and fixed bright amber eyes on their unexpected roadblock.
Caelan cleared his throat. Why am I nervous? “I – ah-” He motioned back over his shoulder. “I’m lost. Can you help me?”
Those amber eyes took a slow perusal of his figure, then slid over towards Ajax beside him. He thought he picked up a brief flash of surprise there, but then it was gone; the large wolf wet his lips, one sharp fang and one broken one briefly poking out between his lips, then guided his horse around to speak with the others. Caelan perked an ear but could not make out their words; he reached out and rested his arm around Ajax’s neck, seeking comfort and solace in the cool leathery hide, and then perked again when they turned back to him.
“I’m – from the brickmakers’ village,” he went on. The larger wolf’s intact ear flicked back to face him. “It should be around here somewhere, but… I’m… not exactly sure where. There – was a fire, you see, and…”
The wolf in front turned to appraise him again over his shoulder. He worked his tongue across his teeth within his muzzle, looked at his companions, and then moved to dismount his horse. A swift, experienced paw caught the reins on the way down and tugged the much larger beast gently forward; the wolf himself wore simple clothing padded along the joints with treated leather, a belt with sword hanging from one hip, sash and quiver along his back, long untended bowstave slung over his other shoulder.
Not a merchant. Without thinking, Caelan took a half-step back. He glanced across each of the others, all similarly equipped. A hunter, maybe? But… on horseback?
The wolf parted his lips and tilted his head again, showing those uneven yet still deadly sharp fangs. Then he clacked his jaws shut without saying a word, tossed his head the other way, and viewed Caelan through one eye. “You said a fire?”
His voice was like the scraping of two smooth, soft stones across one another, like river shale shaking loose from its bank. Ajax slid up towards Caelan’s other side. “Y-yes. Two… two days ago, now.”
“Ah. That must have been the smoke we saw.” The wolf peered up at the sky somewhere over Caelan’s shoulder; I knew it. I knew we were going the wrong way. “What do you think, boys?”
The otter and cat nodded in turn; the smaller wolf seemed to not notice. The larger wolf, the apparent leader of the group, hooked his thumbs into the straps of his sword belt. “Is it a big village?”
“Um…” How big is big? It’s the only one I’ve ever known. “To me, it is.” The edge of the leader’s mouth quirked, as though he were about to laugh, but then the twitch disappeared. “I’ve been gone too long. I need to get back and help clean up. Can you help me?”
“Yeah. I think so, yeah. We can help you.” The wolf gave his mount’s reins a tug. “This way?”
“It’s – to the – well, I’m lost. I’m not sure. Where did you see the smoke?”
“Mm. C’mon, now. We’ll continue on this way.”
Caelan breathed a low sigh of relief mixed with that constant, trembling nervousness. With one paw he motioned for Ajax to follow, and to stick close – though given the dragon’s body language, it seemed it would have been hard to get him to do otherwise. The wolf kept pace with Caelan in front, leading his horse on behind them, while the marten’s ears pinned backwards to the rhythmic sound of hooves on mud. The silence seemed to stretch on.
“You said you’re brickmakers?”
So wrapped up had he become in his own thoughts that the wolf’s voice startled him. “Oh. Um. Yes. I’m sure you’ve – noticed-” Caelan rubbed his paw across his wrist. “It’s so the mud doesn’t stick in our fur. Well, not as much. My name’s Caelan, by the way. What’s yours?”
“Bricks seem like a popular commodity down here. You must be wealthy then, I imagine.”
“Hardly. We have to cart them to the east, out of the swamps, to allow them to cure and set properly where it’s not quite so humid. It’s a long process, and of course the only compensation we get for undertaking the task is the bricks themselves; then from there we have to make arrangements to actually trade them away, with the strain of transportation being a major issue in the negotiations…” Caelan looked down at his footpaws, watching the way his claws and pads pressed into the firm earth. “I’ve been trying to get my mother and the village elder – his name is Fog, but a lot of us call him Old Fogbank – to let me go with the caravans one of these times. I was thinking that had I done that, then I might actually know how to make my away around, and then I wouldn’t be in a situation like this, and…”
And when he turned again his heart skipped another few beats. The pointed end of that sword brushed right across his nose, gently slicing the sensitive skin; Caelan stumbled backwards, breath in his throat, fur prickling, as the wolf stared down the length of his blade.
“I’ll only say this once,” the lupine growled, his companions coming up beside him. “You will lead us to your village. You will not try to escape. You will tell them we are here to help, and then you will leave. Do you understand me?”
Beside him he heard a low, thunderous rumble, and realized after a moment that that was Ajax. The dragon’s crest had started to lift up along his head, lips curling back, tongue flicking out again and again.
“What – are-” Caelan stared, baffled. Rage and frustration swirled inside of him; he felt the tears beginning to press at his eyes again. “Are you stupid? I told you I’m lost! I don’t know where m-”
Then, suddenly, a great flash of of light spread behind his eyes and pinched just as quickly into a looming darkness. The taste of rust flooded his mouth; Caelan felt himself flung to the side, the world swinging, his legs going out from under him, and heard the clack of his jaws through the inside of his head when he hit the ground. The side of his jawthrobbed, throbbed with a stinging ache; he tried to open his eyes, winced at the flood of dizziness, tried again, and then just barely managed to roll over onto his back. He tried to speak but could not hear beyond the ringing in his ears; he saw the wolf lowering his arm from the swing, pommelstone of his sword dripping bright crimson, and then as he turned and-
We heat sprayed across his face, making him blink and recoil. A muffled scream, from either one of the bandits or their horses; scuffling, rustling, shouting, all coming from miles away, like he had wet mud packed into his ears. Caelan’s world spun back around so that he stared at the path underneath him, packed earth soaking up the thick red dribbling from split skin along his jaw. He swallowed, tasted the blood, coughed, spat, spat again, winced at the sensation of a loose tooth… managed to lift his head up again.
Ajax swung his head up from where the great dragon had pinned one of the bandits, a span of ragged meat shredding between his sharp fangs as he did so. His skin and scales tinted orange beneath the smears of blood, with thicker crimson rivers flowing from the edges of his mouth, across his gums, in between the roots of those fangs; the silver chain around his wide neck glistened in the light from overhead, flashing right red where the spatters had caught it.
He swung around, powerful legs driving him, and leapt towards the wolf’s midsection – and Caelan heard the dense, meaty crack of either splintering wood, or snapping bone. Another muffled shout, frenzied arms swinging up, fists pounding at the reptile’s shoulders, muscles struggling to move the enraged mass, and then Ajax swung his head down again. His entire body pulsed, shook, lurched as he dug in, jaws gnashing, tail lancing to one side for support; and then he wrenched himself free, trying once and then succeeding, a crimson spray pulsing, pulsing, weakening… dribbling out.
A little steadier now, Caelan lifted himself up into a sitting position, then struggled to hold down the cresting wave of nausea. Again and again that pressure rose inside of him; he avoided looking at the body nearby, wiped some of the blood from his face, looked down at his paws and saw the way it just smeared across his skin instead. His ears perked towards another shout, and on instinct the marten lifted his head to see the cat scrambling backwards towards the edge of the path, his own sword held out.
“Monster!” he heard, the word still muffled. “Get away from me! I’ll-”
And a flash of mossy green eyes, deadly sharp fangs, jaws stretching wide. Ropes of discolored saliva swung from Ajax’s opened maw, thick tongue lashing out, the crest about his head frilling outwards; his roar sounded like a peal of wet thunder, and as Caelan watched, the cat turned to try to escape, and caught those jaws along his side instead.
Another wet crunch, a tortured scream, the faint thump of the sword dropping from his paws. The cat reached out for the trees, for the grass, for anything to try to pull himself free, as Ajax easily lifted him up off the ground by his midsection; rivers of red dripped down from the sides of the dragon’s maw, nostrils flaring, eyes bright… jaws working, grinding, mashing. Again and again the cat groaned, though his noises of pain slowly receded and his scrambling grew more lethargic, until finally he just sagged limp from the beast’s jaws – though his eyes, frantic, flashed over towards where Caelan sat. The otter was nowhere to be seen.
Slowly, world still swirling, he dragged himself up to his footpaws – then wobbled, fell, and stood back up again, rubbing at his jaw. His footpaw bumped against one of the bodies, and reflexes dragged his gaze down just enough to see that this one had been one of the horses. Caelan looked over to the leader as well, saw the way his blood soaked into the earth, and continued forward; in the shallow ditch at the side of the path one of the other horses had tumbled over, one leg crooked underneath it, another jutting up into the air. It jerked its head from side to side, the muscles of its face spasming, lips curled back in a dreadful rictus-
Venom. Caelan choked down another mouthful of slime, gaze swinging over towards where the cat now lay limp on the ground, body torn open, chest fluttering in urgent, helpless breaths. The muscles of his body quivered out of sync with one another, one leg kicking, an arm thrashing, mouth tugging to one side, eyelid twitching, ear flattening. Behind him Ajax lifted his head, jaws dripping with gore; he flicked his tongue across his chops, drops of blood spraying, rags of flesh jiggling.
Caelan felt numb. Then, despite himself, a small smile; but not as numb as you, I bet. He crouched down in front of the cat, world swaying, heart pounding. “I’ll be going, now,” someone that was not him said in his voice, through his body; he watched himself from ten feet away. The marten reached for the discarded sword. “You won’t be needing this anymore, I trust? And may I help myself to some of your other things?”
The cat tried to speak, but through lips and a throat that would not respond, all that came out was a spluttering, voiced cough. Shaky eyes dashed back and forth and his body gave a loose, uncoordinated spasm, but then that was all.
The marten turned again and padded through the wreckage, looking at everything yet seeing none of it. His throat felt dry, despite the ongoing metallic trickle from one side; each time he blinked he felt as though he were halfway submerged in flowing swamp water, being dragged one way only to then feel the current turn and take him the other.
The leader’s horse – Caelan pointedly avoiding looking over at him, though at the edge of his vision he could still make out the torn, tattered splash of red and yellow that had to have once been his throat – bore the most of the bandits’ things. With great distaste the marten knelt down beside the still beast, tugged and yanked and worked at the straps, and eventually managed to hoist the saddlebags free, their weight dragging across the ground against his weakened, trembling arms.
“Ajax,” he said over his shoulder, and heard an answering rumble. “Come here, please.”
Slow, steady footsteps across the packed earth, all the while Caelan realized he could not keep his gaze fixed in any one place at a time. His breathing felt shallow, his heartbeat fast; he swallowed and then did so again, focusing on the taste of the blood and the dull ache in his jaw where that tooth had come loose. After a moment he lifted his head from where he knelt and turned to face the dragon-
-and then jerked backwards, saddlebags flinging to the side, at the wave of shock that pounded into him. I just… I… you… Caelan swallowed and then did so again, reaching back to try to pull himself away from the approaching reptile. Still Ajax pursued, head up, tongue flicking, stained chops dripping; he tilted his head this way and that as he inspected his handler, his crest by now having flattened back against his head.
Monster, Caelan thought, and finally looked around the path at the brutality. Those muffled screams, the wet thumps and smacks and cracks, Ajax’s own hungry growling… he was insectivorous; he ate bugs. Why would – how – why-
Thick, long tail flicked up into the air and then smacked back down against the earth, the impact rippling faintly through the ground. Caelan gasped and fell back, scraping his pawpad as he did so. “Stay away,” he murmured, frantic gaze flicking back towards the approaching predator; he threw an arm up in front of his face between himself and the reptile. “You’re not – I don’t-”
Then he jumped and yelped as that still blood-smeared nose nudged against his shaven fur. Smears of bright red, slowly drying, wiped off onto his skin; Ajax lifted up, then wedged himself closer, nuzzling in beneath the marten’s raised arm. Broad nostrils twitched, flexed flared, and then that long tongue flicked out as well and caught the side of Caelan’s face.
He’s lost it, he thought, everything of what he had just witnessed flashing through his mind again. He felt sick. There was something in the fire. Or maybe he caught something. But he’s gone mad. I’m going to die here. I-
With a toss of his head Ajax threw Caelan’s arm aside, once more staring him down face to face with the marten laying back across the ground. Mossy green eyes inspected him; the dragon turned his head one way and then the other, appraising him from each view available, sizing him up. Again and again that tongue flickered out, broad forelegs coming down on either side of him to pin him to the ground and hold him in place; Ajax leaned down towards him, the muscles of his neck pulling, lips curling back, tongue flicking out. Caelan winced, took in what he expected to be one of his final breaths, wrenched his eyes shut…
...and felt that broad nose and velvet tongue nudge against his jaw, stirring the pain back up. Then again, and again, and Ajax licked at him, lapping the warmth from his cheek. He took another half-step forward, partially pushing Caelan back down to the ground; the low rumble in his throat continued, dragging soft and gentle, vibrating the air around him.
“I…” Caelan pressed his paws against the beast’s underside. “You…” And then that tongue danced across his lips as well, following the trickle of blood oozing from the corner, and then inside as well. He coughed and spluttered, turning his head this way and that, head filling suddenly with thoughts of what might happen if he were to ingest the dragon’s venom. Even as he tried to squirm away, Ajax still pursued; even when he pounded his balled fists against the beast’s chest and shoulders and sides, the only success he wrought was in drawing that rumble out further.
“Would you – stop-”
Messy, sticky, slimy lips mashing in against his own, the taste of blood mixing with a deeper, bolder, bitter remnant which seemed to spread a cold numbness across his lips and tongue wherever it touched. Caelan coughed again, gasped as the dragon’s probing tongue poked at his sore tooth, then winced and grimaced and shuddered as Ajax continued there; now the marten just held his mouth open, drool that was not all his own dripping from his lips, and waited for the beast to finish.
When he finally did Ajax drew back, swirled his tongue about his now much cleaner chops, and tilted his head again, warm green eyes still watching his handler. Sticky saliva dripped from his lips, now only faintly tinted pink; he swallowed noisily, flicked his tongue again, and then sat down along his haunches, his broad upper body remaining upright on short forelegs.
Caelan’s mouth tingled with the thin remnants of that venom, spreading across as he swirled his tongue and swallowed, briefly seizing through every nerve and muscle, then smoothly fading into a cool sizzle. What was… He swallowed again, that cool sensation sliding down his throat, fizzing outwards from there, melting away again. You…
And then slowly, shakily, he reached his arms forward, draped them around the beast’s shoulders, and drew himself in. Ajax remained stout and steady, but turned his head to bump it against Caelan’s from behind; the marten took in a breath, shivered, sighed, took in another… squeezed himself close, let the slow sobs rack his body from inside. Horror, disgust, panic, shock, and distaste all welled up from inside and poured out, rushing in waves that set his skin to a chill and lifted his fur into stiff spikes; he buried himself as deeply as he could in the dragon’s shoulder, pressing into soft leather skin and firm musculature until his jaw started to ache again, breathing the mixed scents of blood and reptile.
“I… thought I lost you…” he murmured in between chokes and sobs. The cool metal of the silver chain rested across his cheek. “I’ve never seen you like… I thought that something – had-”
Another rumble and chirp, and then slowly, carefully, Ajax lifted up and out of the embrace. Caelan’s paws slid down across the beast’s shoulders and dropped to his lap; he reached up and wiped at his eyes. The dragon watched him a moment longer, then went over and lifted his broad nose beneath one of the straps of the saddlebags.
With effort Caelan swallowed down some of his shock. “Yes,” he muttered, and then pulled himself. “I – yes. You’re right. We should… continue moving. We’re on a road; that means, one way or another, we should come to some kind of settlement before too long. We can… just…”
Then he made the mistake of looking back across the mess again. His stomach lurched. What will other travelers think? Likely the same thing these bandits did: a monster was here. Something great and terrible…
But as if sensing his thoughts, Ajax padded over and lifted his head beneath Caelan’s dangling paw. Once more, a good portion of that fear and horror zapped right out of him. The marten forced himself to smile.
“At least I have you,” he said, and rubbed the dragon’s head. “Let me see if I can get these on you. Could you – fetch some of their other things, too? We might be on the road a while, and I… don’t really want to look any more than I have to…”
~ ~ ~
“Tell me, Caelan.”
He tugged at Ajax’s reins again – both of them were still unused to the feeling of the riding tack; try as Caelan might to convince his mother to ride the dragon bareback as he had done his entire life thus far, she remained stiff on the matter – and slowed the beast’s pace to better fit that of Bracken’s mount, the poor otter able to handle his with nowhere near the confidence and grace just yet.
The marten, meanwhile, kept his eyes fixed along the reason, ears perked backwards to the sound of the pallet of bricks dragging across the grass. He was the first in a line of several, moving slowly yet surely towards the eastern village in the prairies. “Hmm?”
“What did the elder wish of you? Earlier today, before we left.”
He pressed his lips together and breathed in the scent of nature. The grasslands carried a different aroma than the swamp: higher, brighter, sweeter, with none of the stinging acridity or salty bitterness to which he had grown so accustomed. But, yet, the air felt drier on the shaven skin of his arms.
“She asked me what she always does,” he answered. Underneath him Ajax chirred; he reached down and rested his muzzle for a moment along the reptile’s head.
“And what would that be?”
Caelan smirked. “She asked what it was I felt today.”
“What you felt?”
Then he straightened back up. “Yes.”
“Hmm.” Bracken tightened his reins and drew Salo up underneath him. He reached down to stroke the dragon’s throat – then whipped his paw away at a warning snap. “What does – ah – that mean? Or, I suppose… what did you say?”
“I told her…”
Fog had been laid to rest in the deepest part of the swamp, out to the south where the trees became too thick to navigate. He truly may have had another few decades in him, until the smoke from the fire stripped those years away before their time. This had been Caelan’s third time visiting the burial grounds, where the mangrove roots wove so tightly together that the water looked as opaque as it did anywhere else in the marshes, despite in actuality being crystal clear as the sky overhead; when the sun rose to its full height and shone down in between the canopies, flashes of the others laid to rest there could be seen rippling through the still water, their bodies completely untouched by time and decomposition.
“...I felt afraid today.”
Bracken scoffed. “Well, that’s perfectly understandable. I still get chills a little bit when we make another shipment. What did she say to that?”
Caelan’s ear twitched. Underneath him Ajax tilted his head and angled one mossy green eye up towards him; his long, thick tongue rippled out from between supple saurian lips. For a moment, pale greasy yellow dribbled from one fang, to then flick away along that tongue.
“She said it is understandable,” Caelan recalled, “but told me… when righteously wielded, there is freedom to be found in power.”
