I'm a link!

I'm a dinosaur.

Truthfully, I'm a dragon, not a dinosaur, but I might as well be a dinosaur. I'm obsolete, but worse than that, I think I'm a failure, and failure doesn't wash off easily at all. My dreams just feel a bit heavy for me, and I don't think I can carry them, let alone fulfill them. I think the worst part is that…it's a dream that should be realized. I've tried, and I haven't done a good job, but there's nobody else to take my place; I shouldn't be paralyzed with fear, but I am. There are things in life that are worth fighting for, that need to be fought for, and I want to, but I can't seem to make myself. There isn't anybody else though…

I've always felt a bit cliché, being the last of my kind and all. I don't classify as extinct, quite yet, but it's a chill to think my death will mark that. It's another reason to hide myself and be a coward. But that would make my ancestors and masters ashamed of me; it makes me ashamed of me. We had a reason to be created, and created we were. My kind were created by an ancient kind – Gods really. If an alien species with pretty wings, and science touches down on another planet, they're sort of gods. My Masters. It's a pity they didn't stay, and I wonder why they didn't – maybe they had things to do, and we weren't useful enough. My kind seemed to respect the Masters, for good reason, they were artistic creators, but I don't know if I can respect something that abandons a species that isn't truly natural, to die alone.

And die we did. I think that's where the myths of true dragons came from, my kind were designed to sustain the planet. Keep it clean, keep the ecology in line, that sort of thing, you could really call us Environmental Guardians. They did their job, but although we're good fighters, we're not really designed to survive, we're a created species after all. Our numbers dwindle anyway, because our egg cycles are designed to produce warriors, not a species, and humans killed off large numbers of us. Granted, a lot of us ate their cattle, or killed some of them off whenever they over-grazed, or ripped up one too many trees. We didn't really want to kill them anyway; we did try kidnapping young girls from their villages as hostages, but all that did was cause a metallic knight to get riled up.

With such a low population, we had to retreat away from our duties, if only to survive. It was expected that several egg cycle would be needed to repair the population; but there was only one. Standard fifty eggs; mixed lineages, and predicted to be a good hatching. There were to be several more cycles, but I don't know what happened. Everybody disappeared. There are not even remains in the cities, so it wasn't a grid collapse of tunnels, they simply disappeared.

Maybe the Masters came back and took them away, or maybe my people couldn't tolerate not doing their duty and were killed on the surface. I can't find any reasons, nor evidence, I won't pretend to know. My people have meticulous records, and they just stop. Even though there's no one left, there's still a job to do, maybe that's why they disappeared so simply, because we would continue the legacy, but we didn't…

The following could be considered disturbing content, read at your own discretion. If you do not wish to read it, please kindly click here

The egg of a draigon is attached to the planet by a column of what might as well be stone, except that it is organic. It's an umbilical cord, and is a cunning way to garner energy for the developing young, it allows the parents to continue their work, without having to watch eggs, because Gala does that for them. It takes years for a draigon to develop, because of the complexity of the anatomy, and because one cannot simply leech all the life out of the core of the planet at will; you'll cause a collapse of the planet's magnetic field like that, or rupture the crust. It's just not possible, and it takes a long time. Draigon eggs are deep under-ground, to be closer to the energy source, and they are largely protected from mankind's prying tools.

But science, brings with it new borders. Be they in space, in deep sea, or even underground. It makes sense for Mankind to try to tap into the very power used for the eggs, for it is a useful one. Efforts to reach this source led to deep-level underground trains, and sewage. You wouldn't believe the effects of sewage, and radioactive fluid, or just typical electrical leaks.

Hatchings are touching events, for any species, it's instinctive to relish new life. At least, of your own kind; I cannot say I see anything more than pests when spider eggs hatch. Of course, there were none of our kind to witness this hatching, and just as well, it was almost a massacre, before it had even begun. The deformities, the mutations; even the most enduring of species are at some point vulnerable, and our kind were vulnerable then.

We're as hardy as they come, and don't stillbirth easily, there was only four who died before hatching, and they were the lucky ones. Although denied a right to live, they also avoided the days of agony, as most of the others followed their path. At once, pained chirps, as ungainly hatchings struggled out of sticky, and unnaturally coloured eggs, oozing some horrid discharge, vomit-tinged, and whimpers as several emptied their stomachs, their nostrils crusted over with pustules. Some born shy a limb, or two, and one unable to walk due to lack of anything more than a stump for a tail.

Some were born with their lungs missing parts, or even an entire lung; you could hear them choking on the thin air. A small hatchling with their spine so far through their skin, began convulsing spasmodically in a fit; as soon as the ground hit the spine, they were paralyzed into a motionlessly agonizing death. A horrendous yelp; one born with so little bone structure, her skeleton shattered like paper as she sucked in air, each rib snapping. Myself, little one, curled up in the clammy pieces of an almost bleached egg, whimpering against the louder scream of pain. A child with syringomyelia, beginning to scratch and writhe, howling high-pitched; syringomyelia, where the skull was too small for the brain. Pale, and fragile, I curled up further, burrowing my head into my chest, my porcelain-fine tail curled around me, whining quietly. Trying to ignore the scream, the yowls, the moans, and waiting for the horrors to subside. Little ones with their skulls so distorted, their eyes came loose from their sockets when they squinted in the darkness. The lucky ones were those who died from blocked up heart-valves, and damaged lungs, for they died swifter. Others waited days, fading in and out of pain, dying nameless.

I lay there. For days, even after the silence had started. I was the only one not so crippled as to die, and perhaps I am lucky to have my life, and to not have had to be crawling in pain just by mere existence, but I was traumatized. So I curled up there, quietly, pretending I was another still-mover. I could feel my entire body's weakness around me, my eyes would sting, and I was afraid they were likely to…well…nevermind. I could also feel the shell of my skeleton, and it's thinness. I wasn't going to ever be strong in my life.

Which was a pity, because my history, my people, my duty, my very dreams needed me to be strong, and physically I couldn't be strong. I was a cripple. But I was alive – my ears were sharp, my nose was sharp, and I was flexible. I didn't know how long I had lain there, but I had to get up, I had to move. I crawled up, dimly aware I could stand, and distantly surprised that I could walk. I could make out shapes on the floor, and I could smell something I couldn't bear to consider; my gut told me to run. I didn't know what running was, but my instincts told me fast, quick and speed. I tripped, fell and scrambled, clumsy and every bone whispering quietly with pain as my numb muscles squeezed, pulled and pushed at them.

Tumbling into a heap, as far as my strength allowed me from my kin, I was reduced to a pile of panting skin and crusted fur. When I had run, rivets had come along the hardened egg fluids, and they had split; they fell from my fur easily. As if I were an otter shedding water. I breathed out, slowly, unevenly, flat across an uneven ground, and sniffed. At once, my lower quarters seemed to set on fire – hunger. I raised my head, neck extending, as I followed the spicey, watery scent. It was moss, damp, and not at all like surface moss, but crusty, and difficult to swallow, but I stripped it from the rocks using my teeth, feeling the slices awkwardly sit between my teeth, digging into my gums. Faintly tasting the blood, I whined quietly to myself, and licked out the pricky plant matter, and then licked my foot-paws, where my delicate feet, having not fully-developed the scales to protect them, were raw with pain. A warm tongue was like a soothing poultice, and I remember it easing me to sleep.

Life is very difficult, I think.

I'm a miracle.



I learnt to talk from ancient recordings about how many condors there were, or the status of the Grey Wolf; I could read before I could talk, well I had to, I had to figure out what symbols meant 'Play' on those recordings. I was born in a city called Erukou, which means the City of Wishes, and that is an apt name indeed, because I have so many wishes. I would wander the stone metropolis, and feel the weight of those hopes, the hopes of my people, and my own, weighing down on me. The past is a very loud thing, and when you're alone, it's just about the only thing. Draigons are heroes; they're dragons, and they fight for what is good, pure, for the sake of the Earth, that was the history I had to pick up. It's a miracle I managed to learn language in the first place, let alone my culture, except, that Draigons record everything. Even I have a thrifty desire to put everything that happens to me down. The preservation of ideas, thoughts, and information is very important, if it were not for writing, I wouldn't even have my name, writing is important to me.

I'm albino; my chromosomes are deteriorated and therefore, I am slowing growing more and more blind. My vision is being consumed day by day, and one day, I will be unable to see anything. I'm afraid of that, not because I rely on my eyesight, it is so poor and my hearing is too good for me to bother, but because my eyesight is the only thing that lets me see my ancestors – their recordings and writing. When I'm blind, I'll no longer be able to write, or read, and I am very much afraid of that. It is going to be an empty world when I can no longer write or read, but I think I'll write things in my head, and until then I'll memorize everything I can, so I can read it to myself when that happens. I don't remember too much right now, but I will keep workings. I don't think I could survive without words.

I'm also structurally weak, I'm a cripple basically. My bones are very thin and very delicate, off-hand you would think I'd be better at flying, but the bones in my wings are so delicate, you probably don't realize how harsh air is, even underground. I did try to fly, and I ended up with snapped bones; I'm not sure if they've set right, but they don't hurt anymore, no more than usual. I find living here in Erukou difficult, because it's closer to the core than I would like and gravity is quite strong here. Walking is difficult here, and I avoid running, because if I go too fast, the stress twists my ankles. I like to run though, in outer-laying tunnels or towns, I run as fast as I can. If gravity isn't too stressful on my bones, I can run fast, and it doesn't hurt much.

For my heritage, for the sake of my people, who are no more, I have trained, but I can't perform to any standards they would want, and I can't help but feel disappointed. If I try, or if I don't, I still don't do well, but I try, sometimes. I don't train much, because I'm not good at it, even if I'm meant to be, I prefer to spend my time reading or writing, maybe go for a run. I've found pleasure, hasn't everybody? Life is difficult, and I prefer my hobbies to my duties. Before writing, I think I would have preferred to die, waking up with my tongue swollen in my throat, and my entire body smouldering inside with failings, my own muscles were my enemy. Constricting me from the inside out…death would have been pleasant. But none of my kin survived, none of my kin exist; I don't know if I could be that selfish, and besides, I have found pleasure. Besides, I'm a coward.

I try not to think of the future, but it's difficult, because the past is as loud as it is. I try not to think of it, because I'm getting older, and soon it will be expected of me to be out there, being a guardian. There's nobody here to expect it of me, per say, but I expect it of myself. I shouldn't want so much of myself, but I want no more than others have given. I wish I wasn't so weak. I wish I wasn't going to lose my eyesight. I wish I had someone to show my writing to. I wish I could understand exactly why my ancestors would die for a Grey Wolf, or a Condor, because they seemed so strong and brave, able to put themselves in danger and survive for some altruistic reason, I can't seem to comprehend.

I want more than understanding; I want to be that way.

I wish things could change…

And two years later, they did.

Mankind is easily driven by their desires, all kinds are, because we measure our existence in the fulfillment of those desires. When looking for a renewable energy source, the heart of your own planet sounds like a good bet, and years earlier they had tried, poisoning the clutch I had belonged to, accidentally and harmlessly stripping each and every chromosome from my genes and rendering the molecular content of my bones very nearly worthless. I had heard trains rumbling over Erukou for years, and had briefly seen what they were; immense metallic monsters that hurt my ears with bright lights that made my vision morph. Needless to say I hadn't liked them. Still, the core had not been tapped, and I wonder if the tunnels of my kind were responsible for that, afterall, we reinforce our tunnels and the ceilings of our cities with natural veins and ores. But science uncovers everything eventually, doesn't it?

I'm sorry, did I say science? I don't entirely think science is that ruthless, I don't think anything is really to blame, except, perhaps greed. No, not even that. You had never meant to destroy something you had no idea even existed, or that if you had succeeded in your aims, the planet would have withered away. Ignorance is the only thing at fault here, and we are all ignorant, so I cannot hold it against you. I just want it to stop.

I heard it long before anything else, a straining, like a pulse in the rocks. I thought it to be my own heart, except for the crackling stretching pitch bottling in my ears. My ears popped loudly, and I gazed, squinting in the darkness. I had been in the direction of one of the record stores, after an obscure text I had read once. I don't even rememb- yes. I remember, it was on the Red Panda. I never did find it. I must have been staring a puncture into the ceiling, and I heard a trickling sound, sand? No, loose rock, there were clatters and steps in the sounds that sand doesn't make.

Once I had been in a tunnel, when its grid-work had collapsed, well almost been in it. The rocks had sheered down, and the cloud of dust choked up my nostrils, but I had high-tailed it out of there, several long hair caught, but my tail-winglets were intact, if bruised. I had watched the rock face, and counted the hairs on my bodies, thanked my dreams I had heard the trickling loose rock, and straining crackle of the rocks weakening. If I hadn't heard that sound and made the assumption the ceiling was coming in, I would have been crushed.

It was the same sound.

Erukou is no meager city, and against all the wishes of my body, I crouched into a run, every limb in protest as I slammed it against the ground, ears trying to lie flat on my skull and shuffle round in all directions to identify where the cracks were. How could the ceiling of Erukou possibly be falling in? It was deeply reinforced, and not that old, Erukou would stand until the planet itself was consumed by Lilitu. An edge of shrapnel shattered near me with an oddly chiming sound, causing me to jump mid-run. My body was flung over my feet, jarringly knocked over and sprawling. Clearly, Erukou was not going to stand until then, I struggled up. Nothing broken, nothing broken. But I was sore. Not just from my spill, but from the effort of running so close to the gravitational well. I may as well have been running up a wall.

Why was Erukou falling? It came piercing through the ceiling with a wild mechanical cry, digging into the bones of ancient architecture, now splintered and broken, unset. A twisting spine of metal, whirring and ticking over, the cracks of the ceiling looked like a spider-web, reaching out from this thing. It burrowed into the floor, and spewed up the tiles and cobble-rocks, like badly digested Shenu (sub-terreanal rat) bones. The floor was pressed up in splinters, and I was thrown up into the air, for the briefest second my wings flicked out, from instinct burrowed somewhere in my blood, and then the longest agony.

I was rolled, half by own limbs, and half by the roiling floor. How could solid rock, behave so suddenly like molten rock, was it so divided? Molten rock. It wasn't liquid yet, but underneath this floor was magma, and below that…the impossible heart of Galitu. Of the planet. The corkscrew, mangled monstrous metal reminded me of support pillars, it smelt of oil, and slick movement. A Draigon egg is connected distantly to the heart of Galitu and is in that manner raised. That…wasn't the intention was it? The subway was exposed above, the trains silent in homage to this wreck, but voices…

It was impossible to drag myself to my feet, and it was also impossible to begin limping, strangling my bones with my muscles, and dragging those feet to the floor. It was beyond impossible to begin a lope, with spring-loaded jumps. Keep your feet to your center line, and leap, use the flexibility in your spine to move, run upwards, the air is another floor, and therein I leapt. Impossibly along the belly of the vibrating skin of this turning menace, and up its spine, claws catching and pulling away. It was impossible, to succeed would be a miracle.

My ears, as always heard it, a tongue. Human. There had been records. They spoke it in a strange accent, or maybe my kind had spoken it in one. Galitu's heart was the aim, core? Cor. Latin. Heart. The floor of air and moving metal was slippery under my feet, but there, the cracks splayed, my front paws yanked there, a gap between monster and broken sky. A frantic snarl in my throat. My back feet were smashed against the ceiling, but my front paws were beyond the surface, and in amongst the ground of the subway. My spine writhed. The spine of metal whirring close enough to singe me with its warmth, and I crawled up.

The light was blinding, disfiguringly bright. I squeezed my eyes shut. But I could hear and smell, always I could hear and smell. There was the click as the scale-pads on my feet tapped onto this…cold floor. I ran my nose across it, sweeping my front-legs down and ignoring the throbbing in my back-legs. My tail wavered. It had the same texture as the spiraling column of metal, but smelt more distinctively of my earliest memories. I considered that scent lower than vomit, and wrinkled my nostrils, raising my head back fluidly. My eye were still tightly closed, but I could hear the nervous breaths and edging of beings.

What is it?

I pricked my ears forward. This tongue was slightly different to the ones on the records, it sounded like a mixture of several, garbled, and a little confused. I tried to place the meaning, and came up with a satisfactory answer. They wanted to know what I was. I could hear their hearts pounding, and the sweat slicking down them. I opened one eye uncertainly, my tail weaving left and right, as I shifted my weight, but my legs felt like ice. I couldn't feel the aching anymore, I felt cold. It was very cold here.

The scream of metal and rock sounded behind me, like a bugle, and I tilted my head to one side, my eye flickering around rapidly like a moth, in search of a console. Gallitu. They couldn't take this world. They had already destroyed my home with their terrible synthetic monster, and I knew that scent as plainly as I knew my own saliva; they had destroyed…us. Humans over-grazed and over-herded and cut down trees, they didn't savage the very skin of the Earth! My fur was up, my hackles crackling and my under-fur bunching defensively, my hair was raised all along my length, I could feel the prickling of it. I turned my head back round to gaze at one of them, bipedal? Maybe. They had all backed away from me a little warily.

Monsters I spat at them. Some rage worming up from the center of my writing, with words I didn't know I had, or could ever use.

They may not have understood my tongue, but they saw the single eye I had opened was constricted with fury, and I was bristling all over. Even my mane tingled with the electricity of my anger. They understood my tone. They edged around, nervously, but I coiled myself. There was so little gravity here, I might as well have been flying, and my teeth crunched down on something warm. Something now wet and tangy. I kicked away from it, but my back-legs weren't up for it, and I was sent twisting in a mix of claws. That was my first good look at a human, both of my eyes scarcely open.

It had been skewered on my claws, and its arm was ripped open, it had raised it for defense I think. It didn't matter, my back-legs had caught it up in a windmill, antler thrash. It was dead. I could smell that much. The rich flavour in the air was all I needed. They had flat faces, fine fur, and looked to be bi-pedal. Brown eyes. I wondered if they all had brown eyes. There was a click of something settling on flesh behind me. I pricked my ears, heard the grind of…pellet? Human beings use projectiles for weapons. Usually with sharpened rocks or metal at the tip. I flinched away. The.."arrow" I suppose, had burrowed into the dead human's brain. There had been no records of the loud explosion that followed shooting an arrow, and my ears had popped. Agony coursed along each side of my head, settling as I yawned my teeth.

I heard another prepatory click, but was ready this time. I dodged, the space between me and the arrow too great to consider. My eyes were tightly wound again, but I could feel the lights trying to dig through my eyelids, and drill into my sensitive retina. Drill?

I shrieked, the sound edged with a snarl. The humans seemed to buckle at the noise, as if afraid. A human being has a fear of any loud sound a Draigon makes, this phenomenon is called a Roar. Roar? I looked around, forcing my eyes open to the excruciating light. Console. Console. Find the stop button.

I knew no human runes.

I would simply destroy the console. Would that shut it dow-

I had missed a click. There it was. I flattened my body to the floor, trying to feel like a skin with nothing in her. The beat and dance of my veins was singing so loudly, I was beginning to lose the edge of my hearing, this wouldn't do. My nose was becoming over-whelmed with the biting odours of blood and memories. I was over-whelmed. This couldn't be the end. Humans live in villages on the surface and farm the land, graze the cattle, grow old. What advantages did I have over them? Humans evolved from trees, and have dexterous hands, developed from picking fruit and swinging through trees. Humans run at fourteen miles per hour.

I pulled my skittered mind together, and ran. My spine curves and stretches, convex and concave. My body weighs eighty kilograms. My eighty kilograms can run at 50 mph in a gravity well, but not for very long. My eighty kilograms ran at 65 mph, two metres, straight into a metal box and I sent my eighty kilograms of curving spine and the metal-beast's eighty tones of whirring spine down into the ruins of Erukou. It was impossible for me to do any of this; it required a miracle.

I am a spine.

I think. The only thing I could feel was the long rod of white-metal mechanism of a spring that was my backbone. It was wound tightly round flesh that was numb; how could I feel bone? The sensation must have come from the surrounding flesh. I waited quietly, not moving, for fear of twisting or breaking or constricting something. How badly was I injured? Slowly, came back more details, a layer of muscle and a layer of tissue, and the creeping notion of the nerve networks. I was excruciatingly aware of each hair on my body coming on-line. I felt like a watch that had been thrown from the floor and gently switches itself on, with several cogs wheeled out any which wa- oh. Tangy, tangy pain. My pulse began roaring in seconds, and I could feel non-existent fiery plumes extending from my shoulder-blades.

I had once again tried to extend my wings, but luckily had clipped them into the sides of my body to avoid serious damage, and any permanent breaks. The wings would need setting, and my membrane had the attitude of a wet-cat. I shut my eyes gingerly, tasting my body and breathing deeply, as if to feel each pore of my body again. To truly interpret the damage. How long had I been here? The blur in my skull said not long enough. I hadn't fallen on my head or neck, but prone on my side, and though I had not been anymore than bruised earlier, that was far from the case here. Was I lucky to have my life? Possibly…

I set about getting up, not daring to tug anymore than needed on each tendon and ligament. I had cracked ribs, and my left ulna felt cracked, my radius had been sheltered by the angle of the humerus bone. My torso stung and throbbed demandingly, and each shoulder-blade was still in a nova-haze of pain, that made burs and nicks in my vision, stop-gaps in my hearing, I couldn't smell anything. Sneezing, as if my nostrils finally caught onto the amount of sheer dust in them, I bent my head close to my chest until my air-ways were completely clear, before spitting out muddy saliva, and compressing my pain into a single yelp, my diaphragm forcing my ribs to expand with the expulsion of the spit.

My back-legs and tail had been spared the smash, and I had taken the fall on my front on the left side. Increasingly lucky in that regard. I felt almost cold with the pain though…Still. My back-legs were alright. Still, I could walk…Isn't that everything that was needed? I settled myself fearfully, and crawled fearfully through the shadows, staring at the city around me. Erukou. It was gone…

I was buried alive. Trapped luckily in a bubble of safety, but Erukou?

The entire city I knew had been buried under ceiling rock, rubble and…I sniffed carefully, snuffling thoughtfully. Metal-teeth. It was some immense drill, far larger than me, and even slain, it sent quivers through me. I was in so much pain, but I had to investigate. I turned to look for an exit route, I was certainly in no shape for climbing, limping as I was. Each step I took caused me to fall heavily on my left-side, joints bending to try to absorb the blare of nerves. I cradled my body into a nearby space, squirming into the gap. I tucked my back-legs behind me and crawled into the space, shifting until I could move easily and slid off into the darkness, consoled by my own indifference for it.

It felt like an age, writhing through the thin gaps, and breathing the musty air I was designed to breathe efficiently; even so, I coughed. Even with my nostrils tightly clenched. I flattened my ears along my skull;

Trickle. Trickle.

I waited for the chips of rock to settle, before gently moving forward again. One wrong movement and I could bring down lumps of stone to crack open my head and leave my brains spat under them. I gulped, my throat constricting, no, no, I didn't want that. I kept moving, careful. I would say more careful than before, but it wasn't. I had been very careful before, and still was.

There was no end to these networks of cracks, and tight squeezing spaces. I would die here, trapped under rock after rock after rock. Alone. Maybe I'd be with my people again, that would be nice… The last of the Draigoni, was going to perish here, trying to escape a tomb. That was such a sad end to my people, but my muscles had stopped moving, my heart didn't want to keep beating. Would I suffocate first? Would I starve? I could not even curl up to fully appreciate the agony of my despair!

I lay there, prone, rocks digging in – everywhere. The discomfort soon faded out, as my nerves forgot to report in anymore. Without change, why would they notice anything. Every scrape of rock and trickle of dirt was soon silence to me, every snuffle, every chirp, every…

Every chirp…

I lifted my eyelids up, the effort strangled at my spirit, when my eyes shot open, my fight-flight reflect causing me to panic, and my breathing to spasm. A pair of amber eyes stared starkly at my own, right in front of me, less than a few inches from my own. They belonged to a subterranal rat, a Shenu – Dead Eater. Scavengers. Dark-grey fur, curled horns, stubby tail, and a line of membrane from elbow to mid-thigh. Not even the size of my head.



The Shenu was reared on its back-legs, back curled over, its straggly mane a touch dusty from squirming through the rocks, and its front paws were on my nose. I suddenly realized I could feel it. When, it bit me. I almost jerked in pain, but could feel the sides of my crevice tucked around me, and wriggled my wings, tossing my jaw to try to catch the little rat in my teeth.

The tiny thing squawked and ran off. How had it got in? Ah. Hope.

I shifted after the Shenu, following it's echoing squeaks, forgetting the pain in my limbs, and focusing on digging myself out from the rubble. I came clawing out of the impossible mound of stone, gasping for air, as if I had been swimming, my wings flailing limply behind me, and my entire body shaking.

Chirrup?

I looked up, still hyperventilating, and panting, all but biting the air for oxygen, to see the Shenu sitting contently on a nearby rock, fearfully watching me. I dipped my head in thanks, and fell back once more onto the ground, body welling with exhaustion. I…had purpose. I remembered the rush to protect. I had purpose. If mankind had punctured so far underground, than surely above-ground was just as…my effort with the drill had caused the wound into the planet above Erukou to be negated, but above-ground…

Grass. I had seen grass in the visuals. Trees. Life…

Home.

I had purpose…protect…guardian…

I am a ghost.

A ghost hunting you down – a white spectre – a phantom. Don't try to deny this. I'm also an angel.

Half a year later

Alistair Lachlan, neither a notable person, nor an unnoticed person. He was a member of the military, single, pleasant enough, big dreams, dark brown hair, dark pitch eyes, wanted to be a wolf when he was growing up, and believed in aliens. Believed in true love. Believed that people were good. Believed in anything worth believing in, essentially. It's hard to approximate who Alistair might have been, because he apparently already was it. He had a promising career in nothing special (as he put it) and planned to get married one day.

At least, it would have been this way.

Lately, a mysterious opponent had become the primary problem with any major operation. Be it scientific, military, or commercial. The actual opponent was, to be certain, a dragon. Not many dragons, just one, white with black markings, eyes that were the exact shade of blush, seemingly impossible wings, and covered in thick fur. Not your typical dragon, but nonetheless, this creature was definitely a dragon. You could sit around a military table, and lament the impossibility of the situation. Even protest that a single creature could not be so troublesome. Except it appeared to be capable of appearing anywhere on the globe, in the most unusual spots, and could run faster than most weaponry. Between the bureaucratic red-tape, and the actual skill of the enemy, so far six months of steady attacks had been present.

Alistair was unfortunately enough to be guarding the next suspected target, an oil-rig. Like Alistair himself, this oil-rig was neither notable, nor unnoticed, nor was the enemy fully taken seriously as such. But…a dragon provided such a fantastic scientific opportunity! How could one let that slip through their fingers? So, the rig was guarded, any potential location was guarded against the possibility of the Dragon's attack. As you've probably gathered, Alistair, happened to be at the rig, when an attack actually happened…

Siren

Blaze of sound, and a feral roar threaded through the knots of my body, reverberating about my ribcage, and even now, they still shivered at my sight. A primordial reaction to a raging, snarling beast that stood at least at their height. Satisfaction, and distraction, and I stretched my neck back, arcing my spine, shaking the water-droplets from my body. Metal on flesh. Guns. I pressed myself into movement, came crouching forward faster than they could blink, wrenched the weapon from his hands, pulling fingers with me. Flattening my ears, spinning away to trap my teeth over another's throat, as the first one screamed, painful to my ears. The sunlight on the water was harsh, reflecting at me. No matter how intimidating my pink eyes could be, I shut them, sending the rockslide of my body at them.

Pain, everywhere, it was shot through me, as potently as any poison. I tasted blood between my tongue and my palate. I was satisfied by it, filled up by rightful vengeance. This rig was by no means, itself a potent danger, but it drew up smog, and spat thick mist into the air, the atmosphere was choking upon this place's vomit. Sickening. I was in such pain, but for now, there was something worse than pain.

I threw them down onto the floor, broken thoughts in their hands and faces. Perhaps. If I had left much left of those they had their last desires on their faces, and I traced my feet through them, no more regard for them than dead fish, slapped onto the deck. Hooked. Gutted. Gills, wounds, leaking blood, gasping air. I sniffed the scent, and it cleared the greasy, toxic flavour of my past, somewhat.

The control station ought have been empty, I had struck through the ship like lightning, like whirlwind, like nature. Like I said, it should have been empty, but there, the gangly, sweating, fierce primate stood, atwixt me and the door. I turned my head a beat, eying the gun in its hands, I would have little to no chance of attacking it before it had riddled by body with bullets, not at this range. I glanced at the side, here it was too high, and too dangerous to dive into the water, I would break myself if I did. My eyes flicked back to the human, smarting from the sunlight.

His fingertips tightened on the quiver, the trigger, index finger and obscene gestures from the tradition of cutting of that finger. I lunged to the side, throwing my body against a nearby object, the bullet cut above my head, my movement had thrown him.

I was thrown brilliantly into the air, the human clutching against me, and the nova bright shock of energy twisting us together in a falling melee. His clothing, his metal, bit the luminosity of the sun, and he sparkled like a silver fish. My fur white, and black and patterned. An osprey and a fish. Leaping from safety into the air, and hurtling for water. At the right angle water can snap your neck. His bullet had ignited oil. Had ignited energy. A dinosaur and an ancient fern were ripping gravity away from us from millions of years ago, laughing at us.

He cursed, the words torn out by the wind, shut his eyes and willed death, fingers tightly clenched on my leg, my side, and kicked open my wing. FLY YOU STUPID DRAGON! left gut-wrenching trauma all along me, my other wing clipped open, prepared to dance. My howl was tight against my larynx, breaking through me in ebbing waves of there can be no more will it end can I end it air against wings held open cannot close end end endendendendend!

A sycamore seed; no longer fish and bird, but a uniform object, spun, spiraled. Pain built. Rising, growing, like a wave of depression in the heart, the bones were screaming with me, my body was screaming with my mind, each rib was dedicated to each new method of hurt, stinging, burning, impossible hurt, each blood-vessel, each fibre and cell. There was no symphony of my body, only the discordant, cacophony of every part of me screaming. Still! Even then blackness did not come. Did not return me to the depth, and cloying safety of unconsciousness.

The icy, shocking flavour of water on my body was what finally slid me unconscious, dripping beneath the water, a forgotten droplet in the sea. I am never what I claim to be.

I am alive.

All at once, cells busied. Cells rose. Clamouring into existence, with a raucous squeal; pain. I was always in such pain, it wasn't fair. My eyes cracked open, and I sniffed the air, ears arcing forward to discover. The musty jade-sky above me threw glittery gems down into the thick pungent earth beneath me. I stretched out my paws, heard the fissure of grass and dirt beneath the scaly pads. A jungle? I sniffed the air, salt hard on the breeze. Ocean. I sniffed again, and smelt the silicon scent of sand. Beach. Island, my thoughts whispered.

Human, my instincts rippled.

I jerked up, snarling loudly, ferociously. The human withdrew his hand, and I half roared at him in threat, but then the aching, disengaged pain… I twisted my head to see where he had been reaching…

My wing. My wing.

Tiliualou… I breathed, shocked. My wings had almost been wrenched clear of their sockets, seeing the drippy, noxious membrane glimmer red and twisted as such brought bile to my throat. Seeing it made me empathize for the pain my nerves could no longer identify. My body had natural painkillers for such wounds, I knew they were pumping. But the sight. Oh, oh, oh the sight, it pained me as much as anything else. I crooked my head about, vomited and collapsed into the disgusting pool of sick.



I could feel my eyelids drooping, and saw the approach of the human. I tried to whip my tail and snap my teeth, I raised my wi--

Alistair looked at the unusual creature…

And waited for it to stop twitching, before reaching back for its injured wing. Enemy or not, the animal was in pain, and the wound would be infected in good time. He touched the ragged connection and felt the slippery thin wing membrane. He almost jumped in surprise, and ran his hands along it, until he reached a nodule. It came sticking out of the transparent membrane. So that's how… He muttered, intrigued.

It was an undeniably beautiful animal, and with a horrid flip of his stomach, and a regret heavy in his ears, he took out his knife and made to cut the wing off from the single thread that held it into its shoulders. He hated maiming it…The knife drew through the strange wing slowly, and jaggedly, and Alistair couldn't contain his anger at such an event. It was a sad thing to shed something of its limbs. But he was practical, and the thread of infection, and the ruined wings…Binding up the shoulders of the animal, he settled down, kicking the remains into the undergrowth. He bit the handle of his knife, and then inspected the animal carefully.

It was a goodly size, with large ears. He felt along its thin, long body, lean and the muscles contracted, sucking air in. It took a lot of air in, he noted, deep shallow breaths. He rubbed the fur under his hands; it was short, downy almost, and two layers of it. Wriggling his fingers, he felt the underguard, and then stroked the downy top fur. Interesting. He ran his hands over the long, lithe legs. He could see how it was so quick on its feet. He glanced at the tail, but instead turned his attention to its lower-regions.

He gave a loud guffaw. The dæmon dragon was female!

Placing its- her leg back to the ground, he plucked up a front paw. He rubbed his hand under it. A scaly pad? Perhaps a mountainous animal. Then its claws. Sharp, he noted. You are a marvelous animal He conceded. Alistair had trained somewhat in biology, but had quickly shifted fields. This education gave him a platform to admire the dragon from. Still, he couldn't have this one waking up to eat him, admirable or not.

Yen woke uneasily…

Her body felt wrong, and she lay there in total silence, still, watching the human stare back at her. He had a gun trained on her, and her legs were trussed. She raised her head, flattened her ears and snapped at him.

Easy gal, easy Alistair pronounced slowly, soothing an animal.



Yen snapped at him again, before pulling her ears forward again. Alaivio? She asked finally, resentful, but tilted her head. English. How long have I been asleep? At his face, she guessed he hadn't been expecting her to talk. He confirmed this;

You speak? Yengh's tail lashed, and he shrugged placatingly. Alright, you speak. Didn't expect that

She twitched her ears at him, as if uncertain of what he meant. Now that Yen thought it over, why should he question her ability to talk, to talk English maybe but… Your people do not believe I can…talk? She asked uncertainly and suspiciously.

Alistair didn't answer, and she dipped her head in the human gesture of understanding. Ah. She twisted about to look at her back, and Alistair rushed forward.

I had to take your wings off, I'm sorry-

Yen was frozen, but then life flooded her again and she turned her head back, eyes shut. The sight of her back empty save bandaging was not as horrendous as the bloodied sight from before. She shook her head to and fro, growling.

I'm sorry; you could have died

That was true.

The bandaging was good.

Alistair backed away from her, a respectful distance, to her silent scream.

Leave me alone.

…Thank you for seeing to my injuries, I owe you my life. It came out slow, then in a rush, a trickle of rocks. Yen's eyes opened, and she rolled her head to look at Alistair, her eyes weaving and searching out his face. A smudge. She blinked to clear it a little, but it was still smudgy, like watercolour.

I'm sorry, Alistair replied, sincerely. He sat down, and looked at her. I had a friend. You tore his leg off Alistair added, quietly.

Yengh turned her head the other way, and fell quiet again.

I'm Alistair Lachlan…by the by He added awkwardly, but no answer was present.

Healing.

That was the word for it, wasn't it? Yen glanced at Alistair Lachlan, listening for his breathing to fall into a familiar pattern. A rise and tide of dead asleep. Healing, was that the word. Yengh wriggled her front legs near her face, as the REM sleep breathing began to present itself clearly from the human. She snipped through the leg binds, and then twisted her body up, to bite the back-leg binding. Uneasily, shakily and clumsily she all but fell to her feet, and tottered forward. Swaying to the side slightly, she waited for her equilibrium to settle, before stepping forward towards the human, opening her jaws carefully and gathering her wits. One bite. Dead asleep…

Her mind tasted foggy, and she sniffed at the bandages on her back. Had she kept her wings, they would have become infected, and she would have been grievously sick. Would she have died. Yengh wasn't sure, but was glad she did not find out.

Healing was the word, and she backed away, she sniffed at the untouched remains of the dinner he had shared with her. Rashuns, he had called it, either way the word hadn't been in her lexicon. She disdainfully sniffed it, and the scent left her reeling again, deliberately she stamped the offending material under her claws, and bounded into the undergrowth.

Alistair woke to dust-clouds of smoke…

rising and billowing above him in spirals. The dragon could breathe fire? He rolled up, into an attack crouch, and saw instead the relatively placid, if unusual sight of the dragon digging fish – cooked, slavering scent – from a small earthen pit, the pit spitting up smoke as she did so. He warily circled about, but approached.

Breakfast. Humans eat fish… She looked at him suddenly scared. R-right?

At her anxiety regarding his diet, of all things, Alistair broke into laughter, which broke into a hacking cough, and he curled over, until he managed to find his breath, lodged between his ribs. Yes, yes we do He assured her. He raised an eyebrow. You got out

She looked at him blandly for a few seconds, and he realized this was dry humour, and well-used.

Well yes. Alistair coughed, then paused, mid-accepting his portion of breakfast. She could have either escaped, or killed him, instead she caught him breakfast. He looked down at the fish in his hands, she had scaled it using her claws, and he fingered the white flesh, before biting into it. He decided not to mention his earlier revelation to her.

It is customary, on Earth, Alistair commented, between a ravenous mouthful of fish. To tell people your name

That must take a lot of time up during the day The dragon answered. Alistair stared at her from the corner of his eye; was she being serious, or making another dry-joke.

I meant He finally answered, shaking his head in disbelief, and confusion. What is your name?

Yengh She answered without a pause.

Funny – would have thought it'd be a big growly mouthful. Does it mean anything? Alistair chatted, more relaxed than…Yen (was it?) seemed to be.

It describes a painful weakness Yen downed her own fish in a single bite, the action of her tossing her head back made Alistair flinch. What does Alistair Lachlan mean?

Alistair by itself is fine and it means… Pause. It means I belong to the clan of Lachlan

I see Breakfast was surprisingly polite.

Alistair snorted, "You're a Martyr", he crowed…

Martyr? Yen sniffed a nearby bush, but found nothing edible wherein and turned to another.

A self-sacrificer, Alistair explained. It's useful how you just need to sniff the plants… He added observantly, rifling through another bush with his fingers. Neither of them had expected the uneasy alliance to hone anything similar to camaraderie. Yengh, as Alistair discovered, was laconic, and withdrawn, and she in turn found him chatty, and flitty, like a Tilio, annoying. Both found the other…decent? Yen pricked her ears back to him, listening, he had learnt that meant she was focusing on him, and she had learnt he liked to be listened to.

A self-sacrificer? Ah… Aleyiku. Or Eleyiku She said quietly.

Difference is?

Eleyiku is male Yen did not explain Aleyiku was female, but Alistair gathered this. Yengh did not take well to speaking unnecessary amounts of words.

That's what you are, Yen, an Aleyiku He took the greatest care to pronounce the a. Regardless of species, misunderstanding gender was usually bad manners.

Yengh She reminded him. I am not She answered. Who shoved me – a human – out of the way of that bear? Alistair commented grimly. The two of them had been stuck on this Island for a month, and it had not exactly been uninhabited. Therein was a lack of trust; Yen had been searching for an escape tunnel into her cities, and Alistair had set up an SOS device. Neither had been lucky in that regard, but neither told the other.

Yen, as always, did not reply to the obvious and the two continued in silence for a the better part of an hour, before Alistair (it was always Alistair) spoke again. Are all of your kind as blind as you are?

She jolted to a stop. You know I'm blind?

You squint a lot He offered. And she nervously clicked her canines. This was a trait of hers he had yet to decipher, he took it to mean annoyance.

No, they were-

Were? Alistair's brow furrowed.

She considered correcting herself, but didn't. She was silent, and both of them had turned to look at the other. She didn't say the obvious. What happened…exactly. Alistair questioned, surprised at this. Yen always managed to surprise him.

You She answered. There were you, knights and poisons, and then the little left disappeared.

Except for you…where did they go to? Pity washed in his voice. It cleansed him, but sullied her.

I don't know. I was not yet born.

I thought they laid clutches… Alistair hunted his memory for the specks of information he knew. We've never seen others like you

Yen fell silent again, before offering a dull words. Poisons

They returned to their work. Alistair grappled inside with a dead-weight, and Yen struggled to not be cocooned in his pity.

There was a note.

It streamed through the air, low, loud, and demanding. A bell-chime of the wild. It floated through my ears like a river of sound and meaning. My bones chilled in the ice noise of that sound, the chill of the bell. My paws skid to a stop, and Alistair looked back at me.Yen?

Yengh… I murmured, turning my ears towards the mountain range I had been exploring earlier. I hadn't smelt them, nor heard them. This was, not expected. The note came again, mournful now, hungry rather, and this time Alistair heard it. He paled, literally he paled, as if his body had emptied of substance. He had become the same colour as uncooked fish, despite my fear it was a fascinating visual experience.

Wolves

My heart pounded loudly, but over it was the thud of paws. Close I whispered harshly, and Alistair's gaze hardened. It was flinty, like rock and it soothed me, I twisted my body, turning, and then exploded. The spring of my spine was alive. It thrashed through my body, my muscles, my flesh and I moved forward. A run. But then, tripping, and juggling over my claws, I stopped, scraping the ground.

Alistair…

Climb on! I had made no decision, but the words still rang out. Startling.

He needed no more invite, bounding and leaping onto me. Oh the shock of his weight. I could not hold it long, but I must run. I turned, sharpish, fleeing, every paw-leap was agony. He had become too sensitive to my habits, for he noticed. Yen? I could not even gasp a rejoining Yengh. I strung my body out, wringing it for speed. The wolves back behind them, but by now, it was the only conclusion. I went rolling over, Alistair with me, screeching in pain.

Get up! Alistair yelled, forcing me to my feet; I stumbled, my voice thin like a reed between my canines.

I can't run anymore! I pleaded.

Alistair clutched my hand and pulled my muzzle so he could stare directly at my eyes. I had never noticed that his were blue properly, and the glassy reflection of myself had me shaking. I quavered, waiting for his rebel speech, his insistence, but it did not come. He simply stared at me, until his gaze chilled me so thoroughly I couldn't even more, let alone run. I stopped trying to pull my head loose, and remained there trembling. Alistair leaned forward, and pressed his mouth to the side of my face in a gesture I might not have recognized, but I recognized the secret in it.

He let go, thumbing the marks under my eyes. Run.

That was that; what I could and couldn't do was of no importance anymore. What mattered was that I was alive and I had to stay alive. That my friend had to. I seized his clothes in my jaws and all but hauled him onto my back, my jaw protesting at his weight, though he scrambled as best he could to help me.

And I did what I lived to do; run.

I'm a cripple.

Alistair could tell that much, from our last adventure. He had seen my bones crackle and the pain flare in me. There was something certain in this, and I was not looking to look it straight in the eye. I turned my head this way and that, twisting about awkwardly. Eventually he would be rescued from this island, and eventually he would tell out everything about me. My weaknesses. My teeth clicked nervously, what was I meant to do?

I set upon him, with a wild thrash of my body. Alistair rolled to the side, dodging, his arm setting up into my teeth. The crunch below my fangs was not one I could relish - am I so easily manipulated by my emotions? Probably. Alistair wasn't like the other humans, he was almost draigon. A strange one, perhaps, but Draigon nonetheless. His elbow struck the back of my neck and I yelped, writhing away. My claws raised to spar and he flexed his odd fingers about a section of tree branch, and we fought.

I wish I could tell you about how we fought. I wish I could, but all I can think about are my feelings whilst this went on. It was like clockwork in my veins, my nerves were ticking away and I was moving, oh and the bitter construction of my muscles was there. He yelled that he didn't want to hurt me, well I didn't want to hurt him. There was nothing /right/ about this, nothing nearly in the vicinity of that. I shuddered and flinched. Spat my claws through his weapon. I did not want this.

If your heart is not completely in a fight, then you can never win, isn't that what they say? My heart was compromised. It seems obvious to me, when they don't say if your heart is in it, you will always win. It doesn't work that way.

Yen...I don't want to kill you. Alistair stared down at me. His stare, such a predator stare. What does a human mean when they brush their mouth against you? Had I said it aloud?

I had. What does a human mean when they brush their mouths against you I had.

It's an gesture of affection, friendship, love, family. The answer came as halting as my thoughts, but the thoughts came so clearly.

Is Love bitten throats? Skidding pads? Sweaty palms? Alistair's hands made that sticky sound on the wood they gripped so feverishly. As if he was ill, and this was his only guard against the devils in his blood. What does a human mean-

I kicked him off, striking his stomach and ribs, probably breaking a few. By now, I ought to know how to break a bone. Pinned him below my claws, teeth held bared over his chest. Love, oh love, affection and friendship. I don't want to kill you either, but I won't say it, this isn't right, but for some reason I can't explain, but it isn't the same as wrong. You should be dead I hissed.

Apparently I can't lie either. Alistair blinked, wildly. Blue-eyes and predator stare broken. You...don't want to... He stopped. Nothing he said meant anything. You can't kill me! That especially. Humans too are part of this planet! You cannot kill what is part of this world, right? That's what you want? To protect this planet, right?

Yes I croaked. I'm quite weak.

Then don't kill me.

I let him go, he rolled over, coughing, simpering at the air for it. It wasn't right. ...this isn't a white flag.

I know But I don't think he meant that - I think he said it, because it's better than saying, 'I hoped'. It's better than being wrong; being right I mean...

I'm a dragon.

Which meant Alistair couldn't let me be right, and he wasn't supposed to let me go. When his people arrived, he screamed me away into the undergrowth. I think he was hoping I wouldn't turn up again, yet, here we stand, across a battle-field. That was worth telling him.

You were hoping I stayed on the island

I had hoped - then I wouldn't need to kill you now

He looked older, wiser. I felt it too, no matter how far I got, I stood under the heavy-weighted ceiling of Erukou, of the city of wishes, for the rest of my life. It's funny how I'm learning to fly now that my wings are gone. I noticed a band of triangles on his uniform, humans, how suggestive of their culture. You've been promoted. It was a question.

I'm head of the military, actually, Yen.

Yengh It was easy to say the correction, a routine. Funny for the leader to stand upon this battlefield then? To face me directly...

I wanted to speak with you. You know the military controls politics right now? You've made a lot of people nervous. The power's going to my head.

I can tell; it is much bigger.

You too. He smiled playfully at me. Really a dragon aren't you? You've done well.

You too I meant that I found pride in who he was, even if he was my enemy. Even if I had done nothing to make him who he was. He was my friend, even now, I wondered if we'd ever been friends, or just enemies on good terms. You never told anyone

Not a soul Yen

Yengh

We were uncomfortable, that much I could tell. We were meant to kill each other. I suppose we'd best get this rumble on~ Alistair commented. I believe he meant it as a joke.

I did not kill you then, and I will not start trying now I paused. Not directly. I don't want to know I killed you.

Nah, I'll die in my sleep, of old age, don't you fret Martyr He stopped. You too; not directly. I... I need to protect these, my people. I hope you understand. You've killed so many people... He gestured at the fallen all around us, yet to me they were caricatures, I didn't even understand they were people. They had families I tried to feel sad, but the best I could conjure was if they were all Alistair, fallen and bleeding. Yes, that made me sad. I clicked my teeth nervously.

I meant it Yen; they had families. Don't be annoyed because it's true

I laughed, in my own way, a barking rumble, and after a moment of confusion, Alistair realized what it was. He seemed more angry than before. Alistair... Draigon click their teeth when they are anxious and nervous. I meant no disrespect.

I had stopped laughing, and it was awkward. I swallowed, and clicked again. I'm sorry. You kill my world; you humans think you're so small and so little, that you can't do much. He was looking at me quaintly, and I continued. You do. You may profess your egos, but you are all very insecure. For no reason, you are an intelligent people, but not very wise. You kill our world

We don't mean it like that... He did not need a reply from me. We cannot starve to death, we need more

Then there is no place for you here

But you won't kill me?

I weighed it up once again, and once again, I knew the answer. I resented that, but I had accepted it long ago. No.

You're such an Aleyiku He recalled the correct form - I think it pleased me. Ever thought about a world where you don't need to get hurt?

A world sharing science and nature?

They're the same thing.

I shook my head - the human gesture of negation. I knew it well from my battles, but I imagine he thought I recalled it from him. Humans think like that, as if they are the heart of the planet. Science and Nature…nature and science; sometimes I wonder if they can live together in harmony. They seem to be like evil twins, or alter-egos…the two sides to the same coin, and only one can face up at any one time.

You're over-thinking things, Yen, again I might add Alistair poked his tongue out, but he didn't mean his flippancy. He was as afraid of that as I was, because in that reality, we weren't friends and one of us should murder the other. I knew right and wrong long before I met him, but when he existed in my world, right and wrong got a bit bigger and a bit smaller.

Yengh

The wind whistled past us, into the stillness, the silence that fell upon us. How long had we stood there, until it revived us, I wouldn't know. Long enough to rip my own heart into little pieces a few times over; dual loyalty is a horrible thing to have, but we do all have that thing we shouldn't allow in us.

Goodbye then, Yengh

Goodbye He used my proper name. I don't think we'll see one another again, and so this goodbye is sincere. It's sad, but easier, less painful. We don't have to flip coins in the vain hope tails and heads both win at the same time.

Life is very difficult, I think.