softly.
"Grandfather was among the first in the world to become a
dragon. The stars gave him this magic." She smiled to remember
his stories. "And he gave it to our father. And that great
grizzly bear passed it on to us. If the stars blessed our family,
perhaps they blessed another family too. Perhaps they blessed Prince
Sena of Eteer. And if it's true . . . if he's imprisoned . . . we
have to save him." She clutched her brother's hand. "We
have to bring him home."
They
kept walking in silence, listening to the crickets and rustling
grass. When they were far enough from the town, Maev closed her eyes
and summoned her magic. It flowed through her, warmer than mulled
wine, easing the pain of her wounds. She beat her wings, rising into
the air, a green dragon in the night. At her side, more wings
thudded, and she saw her brother soar too, a red dragon with long
white horns.
Silent,
keeping their fire low, they rose and caught an air current. They
glided through the night, heading away from the villages that hunted
their kind . . . heading toward that distant mountain, that new home,
that place of safety and warmth in a cold world.
ANGEL
She crouched in the darkness, a
queen of rock and fire, and licked the blood off her long, clawed
fingers, savoring the coppery heat, shuddering as the hooks upon her
tongue lapped the goodness, and she unfurled that tongue, stretching
out a dripping serpent, and Angel howled in the depths in her hunger
and lust.
"It is sweet, my children,
my terrors," she hissed. Saliva dripped down her maw to steam
against the stone floor. The cracks upon her body widened, leaking
smoke and fire. "The blood nourishes. The blood is darkness."
Her meal writhed before her, all
but drained, a gray husk of a thing. Once it had been three; she had
molded them together, cutting and sewing, stitching twins like dolls,
bloating the beast with embers and meat and sweet drippings of fat,
letting it fester, letting it grow. Now she drank from her twisted
creation, her living wineskin of meat and marrow. She drove her head
down, thrusting her hollowed teeth through its skin, and sucked,
sucked, lapped the sweetness, the red and black, the heat and
stickiness. Its many arms twitched, and its mouths, sewn together,
whimpered and begged, and its eyes blinked and wept where she had
placed them, and still Angel drank, leaving it an empty shell, a
shriveled thing, only skin over bones.
"Yes, my dears." She
licked the creature, her conjoined twins, her meals in the darkness.
"You will live. I will fatten you again, and you will grow, and
more will join you. I will sew you into a great feast."
It begged her for death, tears
pouring. She laughed. She shoved it aside, leaped, and scuttled
through the depths. Her leather wings beat, wafting smoke and stench,
and her four arms flailed, ending with claws, cutting into the stone.
Around her they lay, the creatures she had sewn together. The largest
was a hundred strong, bodies morphed into a writhing hill, sacks of
blood and rot, meals to last through her long, ancient banishment.
Upon their anguished faces she
ran, cutting into them, digging, spurting, scattering flesh, until
she scampered up the craggy cavern wall. Her wings stretched wide,
and the blood coursed through her, heating her, and flames blasted
from her cracked body of stone. She let out a howl of lust, a cry
that echoed through the chamber, for blood was not enough, and
filling her belly could never sate her, for her loins burned with the
greatest heat, crying for release, begging to feast like her maw had
feasted.
She left her chamber of blood,
her hall of husks, her place of feeding, and she scuttled through the
tunnel, a creature of fire, until she burst into a new hall, fell,
spread her wings, rose, crackled in an inferno. Her flames blasted
out, and she shrieked until her voice echoed, and the fire rose from
her loins to crawl across her cracked belly, her stony breasts, her
four arms of rock and
"Grandfather was among the first in the world to become a
dragon. The stars gave him this magic." She smiled to remember
his stories. "And he gave it to our father. And that great
grizzly bear passed it on to us. If the stars blessed our family,
perhaps they blessed another family too. Perhaps they blessed Prince
Sena of Eteer. And if it's true . . . if he's imprisoned . . . we
have to save him." She clutched her brother's hand. "We
have to bring him home."
They
kept walking in silence, listening to the crickets and rustling
grass. When they were far enough from the town, Maev closed her eyes
and summoned her magic. It flowed through her, warmer than mulled
wine, easing the pain of her wounds. She beat her wings, rising into
the air, a green dragon in the night. At her side, more wings
thudded, and she saw her brother soar too, a red dragon with long
white horns.
Silent,
keeping their fire low, they rose and caught an air current. They
glided through the night, heading away from the villages that hunted
their kind . . . heading toward that distant mountain, that new home,
that place of safety and warmth in a cold world.
ANGEL
She crouched in the darkness, a
queen of rock and fire, and licked the blood off her long, clawed
fingers, savoring the coppery heat, shuddering as the hooks upon her
tongue lapped the goodness, and she unfurled that tongue, stretching
out a dripping serpent, and Angel howled in the depths in her hunger
and lust.
"It is sweet, my children,
my terrors," she hissed. Saliva dripped down her maw to steam
against the stone floor. The cracks upon her body widened, leaking
smoke and fire. "The blood nourishes. The blood is darkness."
Her meal writhed before her, all
but drained, a gray husk of a thing. Once it had been three; she had
molded them together, cutting and sewing, stitching twins like dolls,
bloating the beast with embers and meat and sweet drippings of fat,
letting it fester, letting it grow. Now she drank from her twisted
creation, her living wineskin of meat and marrow. She drove her head
down, thrusting her hollowed teeth through its skin, and sucked,
sucked, lapped the sweetness, the red and black, the heat and
stickiness. Its many arms twitched, and its mouths, sewn together,
whimpered and begged, and its eyes blinked and wept where she had
placed them, and still Angel drank, leaving it an empty shell, a
shriveled thing, only skin over bones.
"Yes, my dears." She
licked the creature, her conjoined twins, her meals in the darkness.
"You will live. I will fatten you again, and you will grow, and
more will join you. I will sew you into a great feast."
It begged her for death, tears
pouring. She laughed. She shoved it aside, leaped, and scuttled
through the depths. Her leather wings beat, wafting smoke and stench,
and her four arms flailed, ending with claws, cutting into the stone.
Around her they lay, the creatures she had sewn together. The largest
was a hundred strong, bodies morphed into a writhing hill, sacks of
blood and rot, meals to last through her long, ancient banishment.
Upon their anguished faces she
ran, cutting into them, digging, spurting, scattering flesh, until
she scampered up the craggy cavern wall. Her wings stretched wide,
and the blood coursed through her, heating her, and flames blasted
from her cracked body of stone. She let out a howl of lust, a cry
that echoed through the chamber, for blood was not enough, and
filling her belly could never sate her, for her loins burned with the
greatest heat, crying for release, begging to feast like her maw had
feasted.
She left her chamber of blood,
her hall of husks, her place of feeding, and she scuttled through the
tunnel, a creature of fire, until she burst into a new hall, fell,
spread her wings, rose, crackled in an inferno. Her flames blasted
out, and she shrieked until her voice echoed, and the fire rose from
her loins to crawl across her cracked belly, her stony breasts, her
four arms of rock and
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