Drakkon Dreams Part One

The Drakkon was tired and he ached mightily from a simple hunt gone horribly wrong. The tattered edges of his wings were slashed and shredded from the fight with the Rahhol, and they fluttered noisily in the wind as he searched for a place to rest. The nest was several hours away, but in his current condition, he would not make it back tonight. Better to find a cave and rest. And ensure that his pursuers were not trying to follow him back to the nest.

His anger grew as he replayed the ambush in his mind. He should have never allowed himself to be caught unawares like that; but he had given as good as he got. At least one of the four renegades was on the ground, not moving, while another had limped back into the tangled woods with a broken wing. The others had finally broken off, responding to the calls for help from their wounded brethren, enabling him to escape. A low growl rumbled from his belly – they only broke off the fight because they thought he was done for! They would be able to easily follow the trail of blood streaming from his wounds, if they were determined to finish him off.

The Drakkon focused his mind and drew upon his dangerously low magical reserves. His breathing was labored, the dull pain in his side becoming sharper the further he flew. Perhaps some broken or cracked ribs! Hopefully nothing too bad… A red haze clouded his vision and he blinked to clear the blood from his eyes. The clouds broke and the moonlight bathed the side of the mountain in dark relief. His sharp eyes picked out a shadow on the side of the mountain, his instincts telling him it was a cave. He banked and circled, clearing his mind and focusing all his senses on the sky around him, as he spiraled down. He braced himself as he banked his wings, scooping them to slow his descent, his battered wings vibrating wildly as he slowed, pain shooting through the wing joints to every bone in his body. He extended his large claws and braced himself as he crashed into the side of the mountain. He folded his wings against his side as he stumbled and fell into the dark opening. The cave entrance was smaller than he had judged, the spikes along the top of his huge head scraping against the roof of the cavern as he collapsed in a leathery heap on the cave floor. His body filled with pain, every nerve screaming, as he skidded to a stop on the rocky floor of the cave. He raised his head to look around and the passed out, the blackness finally taking him.

*****

 
The sky was clear and there were few clouds to hide the bright moon. His wings were stiff and his body was sore, but he felt better than he had since the ambush. A few days of rest, some water and a couple of deer that had wandered close to the cave fortified him for tonight’s flight. He was still a long way from the safety of the nest and his nest mates; and there remained the danger of further attack, but he was not afraid. The air currents along the mountains were strong tonight, enabling him to ride another thermal up in a great spiral to a higher altitude, looking along his back trail while checking the sky around him. So far there was no sign of his pursuers; perhaps they had found other prey, or had been unable or unwilling to follow his trail. He thought about his nest mates, fearing what they would say when he returned. He sighed, knowing it would be a long time before they let him forget this trip. The nest did not approve of his far-ranging absences and never missed an opportunity to chide him for his “unnatural” behavior. His four brothers and three sisters hunted close to the nest in pairs, to better provide protection against this kind of attack from the renegades that once threatened all the nests. But the renegade Rahhol had been quiet for a long time and he was convinced that they had moved away from the area where the Drakkon had nested for many generations.
 
He felt his body slowing as pressure from the thermal peaked and began to fall off. Holding his wings rigid, he crested the top of the pressure wave and coasted along, tilting left and right for another look around. The sky was clear; there was no sign of his pursuers or any other life. Tonight he seemed to have the sky to himself. There was a scattering of clouds at this height, with enough moisture to chill his massive body. Nevertheless, he decided to stay at this altitude for as long as he could. If there were others out hunting this evening, they would be far below him.

Happy Thanksgiving from the Drakkon of the DragonHawk Saga!

Thanks for Reading!

Dave