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Chapter 2

The brush smelled like pine needles and dead leaves as I crawled through it. The dense trees around me giving the forest a nighttime gloom, even though I knew it was well after noon. The paint on my body annoyed my scales a bit, but it was worth it. The deer I was stalking could not smell or see me. The charm I had woven about me made sure they could not hear me as well. It resembled a fishnet for sounds made by my movements, catching them two inches from there source. The deer were grazing not twenty feet from me, and had no idea what was about to happen. I got my legs under me, tensed the mussels in my legs, and spread my claws. I pounced out of the bushes, completely silent, and fastened my jaws around the neck of an unfortunate buck.

He instantly reacted, trying to bolt away from my locked jaws, but I yanked him back, snapping his neck with a wet snap/crunch that weirded me out a bit, but I was hungry dammit, and killing something is how life works. Things must die for others to live, and it has been that way since the beginning of time.

It has been a while since I've had to kill something without a weapon. Usually I use a bow or a sword or something. However, as of late I have been uneasy about using my bow and sword. My sword has burned my hands when I've picked it up. My bow has snapped its string many times as well.

His blood filled my maw. God, I missed that feeling another being falling before your might. I almost ripped him apart and ate him right there, my self-control giving into my bloodlust and hunger. It took a second, but I had myself under control again. I draped the buck over my shoulder and headed back to my home, wiping the blood off my face.

I could smell the smoke from the fire I built up earlier from almost a half mile away. I knew it didn't take long, I knew it wasn't far, but it felt like an eternity to get to that fire. This buck was heavy, even for me. When a got to my house, I put the deer down on a slab of rock, I had prepared earlier that day. Spices, bowls, liquids, jars, and oils were on it. The deer fit perfectly in the middle of it all. I went inside and came back with a set of five knives of varying length and width. My gutting knives, rarely used now, forever had a silver shine to them.

I started with a frozen dome spell around the campsite. Flies wouldn't survive in the dome, it was one way as long as I was in it and any bug that was already in would freeze to death. That solved the bug problem. Now came the messy work. I made a long cut starting at the base of the neck, going across the abdomen and ending at the groin. The deer's guts immediately spilled out over the stone. I pulled them all out and put them into a large bowl.

I carefully pulled the skin off the deer next, cutting it away from the underlining meat. It came away easier then moose and bear, but it was still resistant to separation from the rest of the body. When I was done, I took a large axe and beheaded the deer. I then carried the head to a hole in the ground I had made earlier as well and set it in, facing up. I said a small prayer and buried it. I put a small cross over the new grave and stared at the few rows of them. Taking a deep breath, a tore myself away and went back to work.

The deer had a lot of meat that needed to be cured in some way. I took one of the longer knives and started cutting the meat away from the bones. It took maybe an hour. My experienced hands moving almost on there own accord. When I was done, I took the bones and threw them into the fire. The meat went into a large wood box, which went into a super cooled rock. I left some of them meat out on the slab of stone.

That meat went onto a metal grill over the fire. On that went salt, pepper, cayenne and other spices and seasonings. Now five and a half well-seasoned pounds of venison cooked on the grill. Them smell made my mouth water. I cleaned up the leftover blood and gore as I waited. I let the ice dome dissipate as well, leave the air moist and cool, and quickly warming up. The smoke trapped at the top finally escaped as well.

The smells of summer filled the air. The sweet smell of grass, the loving smell of flowers, the rounded smell of smoke mingling with worn leather from the forge, the forever-present scent of my magic all wrapped up into a relaxing balm for the senses. That smell you get just as it starts raining after a hot day, the cold rain on hot stone smell. That is my smell.

The sights of summer came next. Lush green grass, swaying trees, bounding deer and soaring birds formed an amazing picture.

Sound came next. The hush-rustle-rustle-shhhhh of the trees around me, the rhythmic stepping of ants, the rush of the nearby stream, the heartbeats of the many animals around me, the scurrying of a squirrel and the falling of ripe fruit.

Touch was after that. Soft grasses under my paws, wind pushing at my body, the heat of the sun, cool of the air.

There isn't much in the way of taste for summer while standing in a forest clearing. But the summer fruit is to die for. Strawberries, watermelon, and cantaloupe are the best. I could live off them, figuratively.

When I came back to earth from my sense trip, the venison was finished. I got a plate and piled it on. I sat on a stump and ate quietly, still enjoying the world around me. I observed a caterpillar as it ate a leaf. For a tiny little bug, it had quite an appetite. A dragonfly flew by. Why call it that? It looks nothing like a dragon...

I licked the grease, my long from my hand, narrow tongue perfect for it, and cleaned up everything, taking it inside and throwing away the garbage. Belly full, I grabbed another large axe, this one stouter then the other, and headed out to the forest to get some firewood. I had used my last cooking the deer, and it was time to restock.

It didn't take long to find a tree small enough that nothing lived in it but big enough that it would be worth the effort to cut it down. I scoped out where the axe would hit and started chapping one side of it. When I had a good wedge out of that side, I started on the other side, chopping just above where I had on the other side.

When the to wedges meet, the tree started falling away. I had an urge to yell "Timber!" but I did not. Self-control and dignity define my person. The tree fell with a crash. It was satisfying to fall a tree, seeing something so great fall.

I set to work cutting branches off the trunk until it was bare of branches and twigs. I cut it into sections and halved those sections. I had a neat little pile going already, but it wouldn't last. I had to get these logs home.

Which took longer then I had wanted. I dropped logs, tripped over said logs, dropped logs on my paws, and nearly killed myself with the axe. I was overheated when I was finished, my muscles starting to tire, but not burn just yet. I grabbed an armful of logs and went inside, bolting my door behind me.

My house is made of ironwood, one of, if not the hardest and densest, woods in the world. Believe me, this was not easy to get. It's rare to my area in small quantities. Two thick wooden beams fell behind the door to bolt it in place. I put the wood into the fireplace and took a deep breath, concentrating on the fires within me. On the exhale, a small, burning ball of matter came out of my throat. I caught it in my hands.

It is sort of like organic napalm. It‘s made in an organ about half the size of the liver attached to the lungs of a dragon. When they want to breathe fire, they open this organ up on an exhale, sending this stuff, this fire snot out and away towards there target. It can be used a lot of ways, and can be constructive.

I placed this flaming mass on the logs, where it dripped down over the logs, catching everywhere and quickly starting the logs up. Warmth poured forth from the merry flames. Fire is an amazing thing. How can something be so beautiful and yet so unpredictable and destructive? The element has long been one of destruction of evil, yet the root of the thing it is destroying. It is the only element that, if not controlled carefully, will turn on itself and be destroyed. It causes the worst physical wounds, yet can be used to sustain life.

Of the ten braches of magic, fire is the most difficult to understand and even more so to utilize and master.

I stared at the fire for a long time, thinking about the strange element. Why does my species get the power of fire from berth? The most dangerous element know to magic, and its in the hands of the most dangerous race of creatures know to the world.

Reality came rushing back after I heard the soft sound of shifting wood outside. I stack my woodpile to safely lean against the side of the house, and will not shift unless moved or stepped on.

I went to the window closest to the pile, and, keeping my head down, peered outside. A quarter of wood fell from the top of the pile onto the ground. A flash of metal told me whoever it was had weapons.

I crept, as silently as a creature my weight can, to the back of the house to the cherrywood cabnet the held my only firearm.

The gun I have is basically a revolver made into a rifle. I designed it myself. It fires normal .93 rifle rounds. It is a little heavy, because it is made of metal alloy embedded with a good Metal spell.

Several more stood past them, holding shotguns to there shoulders, looking panicked. They both jerked the guns to target me and fired.

The guns fired some kind of lime green goo at me. It slammed against my chest with more force then it should have, and weighed a freaking ton. Two more blasts hit my hand and my face, covering the right half of my face. The stuff made it a lot harder to move, and breathe.

I was rather sure they were firing non-lethal crowd control rounds, something that had become popular over the last twenty years. I do not remember how to make it, but it expands when expelled from its shell in the shotgun, and it adheres to most living things.

The guns roared again, and the rest of my face was spattered with the goo. The weirdness spread over the rest of my body, and I struggled agents it. I started going numb where the stuff sat, and struggle quickly became impossible. Before the goo spread over my eyes, I watch as one of the wolves tried to take my sword off the wall in my living room. A flash of light and a yelp later, the sword fell back down, it form shifting to a katana form. Then the go, changing from green to white, covered my face.

I woke up in a dark, stone room. I could tell it was stone because I could feel the freezing stone under me. The sound of my breathing bounced off the walls back at me, making it sound like there more bodies in the room. As my dragon sight kicked in, making the room clear as daylight, it looked like I was in a basement closet or something. The walls were smooth concrete, and perfectly dry. There was no visible door, nor window. I was in a concrete box.

I was lying on my side, the cold floor pressing against my cheek. As I sat up, I found out my arms were bound in some kind of lower arm cuffs, one on each arm, effectively rendering my arms useless. Three rings of metal bound my mouth closed. Some kind of helmet rested on my head. By reaching for it, I realized it was capping my magic.

I inhaled, and then sighed out my nose. It appeared all I could do was wait for someone to tell me what the hell I was doing here. Over the next few hours, I examined what I had done over the past fifty years or so, looking for something wrong I had done to attract the attention of the major powers.

In six hours, I couldn't find a problem. It's strange when sitting alone in a silent place. It's in silence when life is the loudest. Even when there is not a sound for a hundred miles, your ears still pick up some kind of sound, like static on the airwaves.

Twelve more hours later, I felt an air movement to my left, and felt a crude magic output. A door sized section of my cell's wall pushed inward, and then opened like a bus door. Through that stepped two wolves, both carrying combat shotguns pointed at me. Then a large, snowy white wolf in grey armor stepped through the doorway.

He carried himself with the power and confidence of a respected leader. As he stepped through the door, it closed behind him with the same crude magic as before. His grey armor glowed in the gloom of the concrete cell. I now notice it was lit from an unseen source. A few runes were set into the shoulders, one on each. Running down the arms and legs, protection runes glowed. One more on each gauntlet and boot, declaring ‘attack' and one large sigil on the chest, which translated to ‘Destruction' all of which glowed with a very slight blackish purple aura.

He just glared at me, and I glared back with my best glare. Considering the circumstances, I think I did all right.

"So... You're the dragon I was sent to find? The one so many others have failed. You're kidding me. It took my wolves five minuets to capture you. That sword on the other paw..." he made a motion "...Caused some problems."

The wall opened once more, and my sword floated through, suspended in midair. It had shifted forms when the wolf had touched it. It now sat in a katana form. The blade was still midnight black, the runes still glowed red, only now they were smaller. The blade was about four feet long now, instead of six, and only an inch or two wide. What the hell did they do?

He walked over to it. He stood facing away from me, and spoke. "This little sword burned a few of my wolves, turning there arms and paws black. It even disintegrated my mage. Sounds like you put some spells up since you forged it. So, what are they? Deathwards? Curses? Maybe a lightning spell?"

All I could do was stare and laugh inside. The dolt had no idea what I had put on it, and I wasn't about to tell him. His wolves could die for what I cared. That's what they get for touching things.

I shifted to get my tail out from under me, and to unpin a wing. My wing had somehow gotten twisted behind me and pinned against the wall. It pulsed for a few seconds afterward, but it felt better.

He just stared at me, then pointed to a wolf and said, "Let him out." The wolf, a young little brownish one, looked startled. "Are you sure we should do that sir?"

"Yes you slimy, useless little bastard!" He yelled, making the other jump at his sudden fury. He fumbled with a ring of keys and walked over to me. He unlocked the rings on my muzzle, then my arms and legs. I just waited until I was free, then he quickly backed off. I stood up, feeling my horns brush the ceiling. I stretched out my limbs and thrashed my tail to look annoyed. Really I was thrilled they were letting me out and not just executing me while I was bound.

I yawned to stretch my jaws; the muscles had started to cramp. I glanced over to the wolf that unlocked me, jumped towards him and let out a loud yawp. He yelped and retreated away from me as quickly as he could, tripping and stumbling to the back wall. I laughed at his fear. "Little dog, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done so when you let loose my mouth."

He gave me a nervous, shaky smile, which I returned with a full, true and happy smile. This probably freaked him out even more, because his eyes got big and he edged toward the lead wolf.

The white wolf just looked at me. "Are you done?" he asked. "I am." I said. "So, why am I here? To my knowledge, in the last fifty years, I have not broken any laws, nor have I pissed anything off."

He nodded "this statement is true. However, a contract arrived at our headquarters for us to collect you, and keep you here. It orders us not to kill or harm you in any way. Now, is there anything you would like? This cell is bare only because we have no idea what you like. If you tell us, we will have another cell ready for you." He gestured around the room. "This is just the holding cell."

"Well, that changes things. I was getting ready to fight my way out of here. But alright." I described my house and the furniture in it. The smaller wolf took notes. I then assumed he was a scribe. He nodded and told me that it would be about an hour before it was ready. He turned to leave. "Wait, I also would like my sword back."

He though about that for a minuet, then nodded

"I will have to disable the protection spells myself; otherwise they might react badly to someone tampering with them." I looked over to my sword, just floating in the room.

That seemed to conflict with something within him. I saw a flash of worry cross his face, but it soon smoothed over. The sword floated over to me, I reached out to the hilt when it came within a foot or two.

Upon contact with the wrapped leather of the grip, the sword morphed back into the shape that I forged. The katana expanded, growing longer, wider and thicker. In the space of half a second, the slender katana had become a large, sharp black steel paddle once more. The runes flared at my touch, the swords presence entering my mind.

It is hard to describe what it feels like to have another presence in you mind. Imagine you're in a small room. This room is bare and just fits you. Now cram another body into that small room. That's what its like to have another presence, in a nutshell.

I held the familiar weight or the weapon in my lap as they left. An hour later, they came in. I was escorted down a long hall to another room, this one furnished the way I told them to. A soft looking bed waited for me a corner.

They shut and locked a thick wood door. Damn, I'm not that scary....am I?

I walked over to the bed, set the sword against the wall, laid down and went to sleep.