MagiStream

She was drowning herself in a pewter mug of domestic ale, brought to her by a pretty, shapely barmaid. At least before She’d turned in for the night and was replaced by a surly looking man who she quickly identified as the rather portly owner. Feeling displeased with this turn of events, she retreated to the quiet sanctity of her mind, though did allow herself to fall back onto her old habit of picturing far more than just how the Lass decorated her bedroom. She wouldn’t have gotten on that well with Her, but it was still fun to dream.
She took a long swill, causing the amber liquid to become disturbed, almost clouded, inside the filthy, time-scarred vessel. She’d been on the road for far too long to let the simple matter of clouded ale bother her. It didn’t change the the flavor much, so she wasn’t going to complain. Besides, she smirked to herself, what if she’d inadvertently insulted the Barmaids dishwashing skills? That’s ruin her chances of finding out if Her talents lay elsewhere.
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She traced her fingertips along the rough wood, feeling the dents, scrapes, cuts, all of the imperfections in the warped wood. Her mind turned down a dark path again, and she laughed morbidly. She felt a connection with the countertop. Abused. Worn. As though she’d taken one to many years of beatings she did nothing to earn.
She shook herself. She was road-weary, exhausted, and in need of a good bath. Her eyes
swiveled around the dingy room, a habit she’d developed years earlier, and one that’d saved her hide more than a few times. She almost wished somebody would pick a fight with her. It would certainly break the relentless monotony she faced thus far.
She was young, but already an accomplished warrior, if only a little untrained. Her long, vibrantly red hair, normally neatly pushed back over her head, and tied in a sleek, well-groomed ponytail, was messy, a few stray strands hanging over her sharply angled face, over which she traced her steady fingers, feeling the taut smoothness of her pale, freckled skin broken only by a few fading scars.
Calypso was gorgeous, and she knew it. Unkempt though she was, she still knew she had more of a chance with most women than all the men in the bar. Even if she, herself, was a woman. Though, that wasn’t saying much, as her fellow patrons were mostly grizzled, spitting, ornery older gents. Not elderly, but they were no spring hares. She tried to ignore the leering barman. Much less inviting than the Busty Barmaid. That brought her to an even more troubling line of thought.
She was the last of a noble, dying line. This distressed her. The bronze dragons were the most regal of all colors, strong, clever, and fierce.
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And she was proud. Even now, she loathed having to disguise her exotic features by tarnishing them with dirt.
She took another swill of her drink, glaring contemptuously at the hefty barman who had been eyeing her distrustfully. She’d hoped the man had more sense than he did teeth. If not, Calypso was going to be in for another long night.
Her wards, a pair of brothers, decided--though, Calypso herself had no say in the matter--to meet up with her in another town. Without their usual cheer, she was feeling very cynical.
“Room please,” she growled out, in a tone implying that ‘no,’ was probably not the best, nor the wisest answer.
“We don’t serve yer kind here,” the man spat unpleasantly. He cracked a toothless sneer, and squinted at her, as if trying to determine her worth. Calypso wondered if this was a common practise, of if the man simply always looked unpleasant.
“What the hell do you mean, “yer kind,”?” Calypso stood swiftly, overturning her chair, and rather violently slamming her fists on the dingy counter, the barman was not impressed. She started to remember why she’d stopped drinking in the first place. An angry snarl ripped from her chest, she only just managed to bar it behind her too-sharp teeth.
“Yer kind, ye fool. De’ya not know yer own scales, dragon?”
The room went quiet. All eyes slowly fixed themselves on Calypso. She felt fire crackling at her fingertips. She was ready to slaughter the man for his insolence. Her gaze flicked to the watching men. Better to leave the cur alone, she decided.
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Calypso was quiet for a while. The only sounds were the scrapes of chair legs against the dark, scuffed wood floor, and the hissing flicker of the candle lights, which gave off an unpleasant greasy smell. Her head swam.
“Sir, you must be mistaken. The last dragon had to have died out years ago, it’s practically common knowledge-”
“Lies.” The man interrupted. “I’ve seen ‘em with me own eyes. And I’ll be damned if yer not one o’ the rot-breath scoundrels. Lost me only daughter, an’ me beloved to yer kind,” He finished his poor excuse for a sentence with a nasty, spiteful grin. Calypso looked at him incredulously. She didn’t know much about what humans found attractive, but she doubted this portly, almost butcher like man, had ever known a woman intimately. At least not of her own will.
She kept an indulgent smirk at bay, better not to rub him the wrong way. She was trying to get out of a fight. Not cause one.
She amused herself with the thought that only moments before, she was wishing some drunk patron would have a go at her. Now she was using the most of her verbal training to get herself out of the mess.
She looked around the room, the bar patrons were acting as though they didn’t care, but Calypso could see the keen intent in their all to rigid postures, and their quiet, controlled conversation. She guessed it wasn’t a prospering village.
Calypso sighed. She knew the man’s game. Get the pack a taste for blood and they’d hunt for you all on their own, with deadly purpose. She knew that what humans lacked in physical
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prowess, they more than made up for in extremely annoying tenacity.
The only trouble then would be to wrest the prey-and the prize- from the boozing hounds. She took a deep breath and her body tensed, preparing to run, if necessary.
“I think you need to get your eyes seen to, old man. You must be senile if you think I’m a dragon. I’m no more a dragon than you are a fae spirit.” The man snorted offensively in
response. Calypso was acutely aware of the slowly encroaching mob. “Besides, look. Kings armor,” she nodded brusquely to the breastplate, worn though it was, she wore on her broad chest.
“Bah, don’t mean nothin’ boys,” he addressed the eager crowd now. “They dragons be crafty. Bet she looted it from some poor job she’d hard-boiled in it on’y heart-beats before. Jus’ look at the scorch marks! That’d be the work of a dragon if I’ve ever seen it.”
Calypso could have laughed. He certainly had one thing right. A soldier decided to attack her in her home range. Take both her hoard and her head. It was a simple matter of cooking the life out of him and tossing the charred, useless human over the waterfall. Not that they really had a use anyway, except maybe mobile snack-boxes. She’d taken the armor as her own human body was scaleless and vulnerable. But it was useful when stealth was important. Nobody noticed a roaming warrior, even if she wasn’t the standard issue masculine figure. Nobody aside from the women that is. Not that she minded much.
“Now now, gentlemen, let’s not be hasty here. He’s obviously had more than a few rounds tonight…” Her usual commanding, confident air fled her, and instinctual panic threatened to consume her rationality. She didn’t want to run yet. She was tired enough without having to
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flee with a blood thirsty mob at her heels.
She saw no other option however, with the familiar rasp of swords being drawn from unseen sheaths. She steeled herself, leg muscles coiled, and struck her fingers against the countertop, as if lighting a match, then slashed them over top of it.
It erupted into a writhing mass of flames, going ablaze like dry scrub. The bartender
stumbled back with fear. Calypso took her opportunity, charged across the flame, and crashed through the door behind him into the chilled air of the quiet village streets. It wasn’t long before she had men snapping at her heels.
Nobles paid a hefty sum to any man that could slay a dragon. Calypso remembered as she ran, stories of a time when man respected--nay-- revered dragons.
But now? They were hunted like game. For their scales, and their blood, and their hearts, and out of the fear that dragons were sky-demons.
Her breastplate was cast aside, trampled under the haste of men to catch her, her black cloak billowed behind her like a pair of beating wings. Her footsteps echoed mockingly back through the all too familiar streets. She often found herself trapped in the cramped streets of the cobbled villages.
Sneering at the blatant displays of wealth they obviously didn’t have, she knocked over an iron wrought post. The wood of a decent sized cottage caught fire. She couldn’t risk flying out, they could have artillery, and the streets were too closely packed to transform.
She could draw their attention away from her escape. She’d have to get out on foot. She grinned. She could still do enough damage to distract them, let the village come alive in chaos
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like an overturned nest of ants.
She could hear their frenzied shouts. One of them discovered her little gift. It wasn’t her fault their flimsy stick houses went up like kindling. She heard somebody shout to get the dogs into position, Calypso responded with a few swears, and pushed herself to go a little faster.
There were dried, knotted trees overhead, their finger-like branches seeming to reach for
the sky, as if to block all chance of escape. She shivered with dread.
Laughing at the audacity of humans, and to rid herself of the uncomfortable, chilling feeling, she tried to find her way out of the narrow, winding streets.
Why did they always have to build such complicated cities? She felt like a rat, running through all the sooty,gutter-like side streets to avoid being seen. They almost taunted her, pretending they weren’t as grimy as they were. If she could just lose them for long enough--and get out of the mongrels den--she could transform and escape in the inky blackness of the night.
The loud echo of her own footsteps seemed to magnify in the quiet. Perhaps she’d shaken them off her trail? Their orders were just muffled cries in the distance. She couldn’t even hear the braying of dogs. She felt a little better now, she berated herself for even worrying about them in the first place. Human and dogs alike, none of them could match the splendor of a Bronze dragon.
She was hardly even paying attention to where she was going now. She eased herself into a pleasant trot, going down back alleys, avoiding windows. She’d seen older men, obviously well past their prime, evacuating the women and children from their homes. Still, she didn’t want to take any chances.
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She froze. She had the oddest sensation of being watched. A low hoot, a musical tone, directed her attention to a set of enormous amber eyes. The familiar sound calmed her. The faint rustle of wings made her realize: It was only an owl. It’s wide eyes narrowed at her, and it flew off. She couldn’t see it, but she could hear the slight disturbance of air. It was a big one.
Snapping out of her stupor, she continued to trot along at her own pace. Something about
the owl’s gaze unsettled her. It was knowing, almost. Intelligent. She heard a deep, wild howl punctured the night air. Shuddering, she turned down the path, and found herself staring at a dead end.
She heard the quiet sounds of intentionally muffled footfalls. They’d nearly caught her! Calypso would not stand for that. She grinned wolfishly and looked up.
She dug her sharp, black claws into a wall, hearing the men fan out behind her. The dark stone was no match for her, and she quickly scaled it, much to the displeasure of the shouting men on the ground below, so she had to give them some credit. They always made it so easy to escape.
She lept from slanting rooftop to slanting roof top. She managed, only just, to keep her balance. She could see across the whole city, and as long as she avoided the fire and stayed more in the middle, they wouldn’t be able to see her unless they knew she was there.
She supposed the village was-what was the human word for it again?-Charming. Picturesque, at least when you weren’t looking too closely at it’s grease laden stone. The wood was white, and well crafted, and hanging gardens prevailed over many of the windows. Sill, she found it homely, and aesthetically unappetizing.
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It’s closely built houses, and maze-like streets certainly made it easy for her to lose them, easy for her to wrest herself from their clutches.
As she lept, one of the shingles gave. She slammed down hard on the roof, smashing through several, and slid down the roof about a tail-and-a-half before she caught herself, one leg dangling precariously off of the edge. She scrambled back up, kicking loose a few more shingles,
before swearing heatedly, and continuing on.
Something about her human form did please her. The magic coursing through It’s veins allowed her to accomplish feats few others could, and she did love to impress. She could provide a brief layer of air between her feet, and the roof, silencing the sound like--Like the frills on an owls flight feathers. Though, she thought bitterly, they couldn’t help her keep her balance.
The low, trilling hoot sounded again. She thought of the eyes. Was it watching her? She decided, on a whim, to follow it. After all, owls were considered good luck to dragons.
It lead her along another trail, angling towards the woodlands just outside the village. She could follow it easily by sensing the changes in air pressure as it beat its wings. She was grateful for the assistance. Looking back over her shoulder, Calypso realized that the men had been harrying her into a scattered net of archers and pikemen.
It flew off, leaving her at the edge of the clustered houses, to where they thinned out. She had to push the limits of her form to make the jumps. She slowed now, listening for the men. She could hear nothing more than the sounds of the fire smouldering to a halt. She stood at the edge of the village, on the rooftop. Calypso swore aloud. They were waiting for her here as well.
They didn’t seem to notice her, not yet at least. Not even after her rather obscene choice
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of swear. She could see the entrance to the woods just a few wingspans away. She could make it. Without alerting them? Unlikely, but she could make it nonetheless. Once she got in, she could confuse them. Shake them off her tail, find a clearing, and fly off. She could see the crossbowmen patrolling the streets. If she took off now, she’d be a living pincushion. She may have been able to take off fast, but not that fast. Besides, it would take her a few moments to find
her feet when she did transform. And the fact that she’d crush the house beneath her draconic form. She didn’t want to be picking splinters out of her belly for the next few moons.
She backed up a few steps, and cleared them in one bone jarring leap. Rolling with the shock, softened by the lush grass, she headed for the dense woods.
The men cried out in shock. Her form suddenly appeared, melting into the shadows as quickly as she came. The gnarled trees seemed to open their arms in a sanctuary-like embrace, beckoning her. She redoubled her efforts, charging into the darkness. She could see far better than humans anyway. She felt confident. At least before they released the real dogs upon her.
She could hear their loping strides, catching up to her with ease. How could she be so stupid? She wanted to escape the humans, but now she found herself trapped by vicious mutts.
She took aim, and launched a fireball at one of them. It missed, hardly singeing its fur. Calypso felt as though the forest terrain was growing harder to navigate. Was her hearing getting sharper? The men sounded louder.
Brambles tore greedily at her clothes, branches whipped her at every pass, and it seemed to get harder to lift her feet. She threw another fireball, this time it hit something.
She groaned. How could she be so stupid? It was Autumn, for Fyre’s sake. The forest lit
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up, temporary robbing her of sight. She stumbled, head first, as a maw of fire opened up around her, snapping at her sensitive mortal skin. She let out a cry of fear, and scrambled through the wave of flame.
It roared up, the cry of the all-devouring beast was unmistakable. Several of the dogs took themselves out in the first attack. They plunged headfirst into the inferno, unable to rid
themselves of the clinging globs of fire.
It held off the dogs, but the men were smarter. They dodged around the leaping beast she’d conjured. Her vision was spotty at best, and her lungs cried for the air her fire was stealing from her.
She heard them closing in. Stumbled down an embankment. Landed hard on her chest. She tried to get up, but didn’t watch where she was placing her unsteady feet. Her foot landed in the sharp teeth of a bear trap. She howled in rage and pain as it snapped shut, the cruel, greedy jaws of death.
The men surrounded her within minutes. She fell over, laying like an animal waiting to be beaten. One of them loosed an arrow into her side. She snarled, flame kinding at her lips, set in a cruel, hateful grimace.
The men advanced slowly, relishing the end of the hunt. The dogs seemed to grin with pleasure. A spear jabbed forth, and broke at the small of her back. She lashed back, but missed, her claws sailing through empty air.
She didn’t wish to die this way. She could feel herself slipping away. A rock whistled through the air, and struck her temple. She swore with as much force as she could manage. Her
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conscious was fading. She could hardly make heads or tails of anything that wasn’t pain. Shuddering waves of it rolled down her body. Her muscles tensed with each one, causing blood to drip from her wounds.
A man stepped forward, stomping down hard on Calypso’s back. She felt something break. Red filled her vision, and it hurt to breathe in. She lashed out again, this time her claws
met with his flesh, rending his leg. The offending man let out a cry of pain, and lept back. Calypso’s success was met with a kick to the head. She groaned.
Calypso blinked blearily, confusion evident. Some of the dogs started to look nervous. Two even turned tail and fled. The men took no notice of it. They were far too absorbed in their dragon-baiting. Calypso noticed. She saw gleaming eyes from the brush, watching curiously.
Calypso let out a roar that would make her grandsire proud. The men just laughed, pelting her with rocks and jeers. She felt tears welling up. She clenched her fists, nails digging into the flesh on her palm. She would not cry. Now she was fighting a war on two fronts, and she was losing both. A single tear escaped, rushing down to the musty forest ground. More followed.
“Look! Dragons tears boys, think we can get a good price off the market?”
“I thought she-dragons were supposed to be tougher than that. Let’s see how much we can make this one scream, eh boys?”
She struggled to attack her tormentors, but her claws found no more purchase than empty air. She howled again, hating these foul beasts with a burning passion. She remembered her fire. She gathered the strength at her lips, ready to barrage them with flame. Another man kicked her in the head, forcing her to release the magic.
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The jeers and taunts started to fade. She couldn’t hear as well, blood filling her ears. Exhaustion waved over her.
She prayed for a quick death, but knew it wouldn’t come. The men were determined to make her suffer first.
A lone wolf appeared. At first, the men didn’t see it. One nocked an arrow, aiming it for
Calypso, who no longer had any strength. She was crying freely now, something a warrior was sworn to never do.
It let out a deep, rich growl. The wolf was clearly displeased. The man froze. Every eye turned to look. The dogs fled. Their wild kin seemed to form by the scores from the darkness and shadows. The man with the bow loosed his arrow into the proud beast. All hell broke loose.
The wolves stormed the men, scattering them like fallen leaves. Blood filled the air, and the animals ravaged the idiot men. A large shadow detached itself from a wolf, vaguely humanoid looking. It knelt beside her, breaking the trap. Calypso was fading. She saw a face hovering over her. Her final thought was a pleasant one. A goddess has come to take her to the ether.

Shadow looked down at the funny-looking woman. “Hells bells, they sure did a number on you, didn’t they?” She expected no response, nor was one given.
The brute-beast men from Enkerel, the village just outside her range, had chased the poor young woman with their tame-wolves and nearly beaten her to death. They were now safely tucked away in her own village, Oak’En Vale. She and her pack lived within a village built into a tree that was big enough to be mistaken for the world tree. Perhaps bigger.
She left her side for a few minutes, only to look over the village. She looked back at her, and chuckled softly. She was sure the unconscious one could handle being alone for just a few minutes. She felt the rough bark beneath her sure fingers, she could smell the smoky, damp scent of it all around her, and the scent of new growth. It would be even more grand, even more beautiful in the spring time.
It was all within the confines of the oak itself. Its trunk was as thick as five-hundred men,
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hand in hand, stretched around it in a circle. The roots themselves bunched up, creating decent sized homes for even larger pack-families.
Some of the roots reminded her of sea serpents, rearing back in the storm tossed, glass green sea. The ground was carpeted in soft grass, and lush moss. The soil was a little damp, and
great for the softer variety of plants. The ground was also kept free of leaf litter, so as to encourage growth, along with a myriad of other chores her village-mates performed to keep the tree healthy.
The canopy of the tree grew up almost a hundred feet, then grew out, doming all beneath its branches for several miles in all directions. A few trees even grew beneath the Oak itself, mostly wispy maples, but a few sturdy pines grew sparsely as well, thanks to their earth magic. Shadow, regrettably, possessed mo magic of her own. The gentle greens comforted her.
She watched her friends below, going about their tasks for the day in a friendly, carefree sort of way. The harvest festival was in a few days. There was so much to do, but none of them felt very rushed. They never did. It had been raining during the early morning, so the gentle sunlight didn’t dapple the grass as was usual, hidden behind a thick gray blanket of clouds.
She smiled contently and went back into her own den, a rounded hollow within the tree. The woman was lying on a bed made of soft, groomed pelts from creatures long hunted. Her fever had broken the night before. Now her body temperature was lower than Shadow felt comfortable with. She stirred the contents of a cauldron with a ladle. It was a mixture for strength. A strong ale, sweetened with honey and sugar, and several types of herbs she knew were good for gaining strength. She raised her warm hand onto her forehead and was displeased. Her temperature had further dropped. Maybe it was a bad idea to have left her alone.
She gently lifted the blankets she’d cocooned her in, and her eyes widened with realization. She’d forgotten how wet the nest had gotten when she tried to cool her with water. She growled at herself for being so fluff-headed, and gently moved her beside the fire for what to her must have felt like a moon cycle. She had fresh bedding brought in and moved her back,
hanging the pelts off the banister outside her home to dry. As she settled her in she remembered something rather important.
She was a Hua’Kyr; a human. Or at least she took the form of one. She did have a very strange scent. Excotic. Powerful. She looked down. They, the Hua’Kyr, were bothered by their kind showing bare skin. They felt it was immoral. She wondered briefly if it was polite to put her tunic on, then shook her head. She was wearing leggings, that was enough for her. Besides, they were both women, so it was nothing unseen.
After a little while she saw her slowly rouse from her sick-sleep. She blinked up at her, a bemused smile crossed her lips. She asked the most perturbing question; “Am I in the void? It feels far too cold. Are you a valkyrie? I’ve heard about those. Dearest angel, where are your clothes?”
Shadow laughed warmly. “No, you’re still alive. You’re in my village. I am a Fang’Kyr, a Clever Wolf, not a valkyrie. To answer your final question, I’m having them washed, and I don’t feel like wearing scratchy tunics. What is your name? You must be very strong of heart to be able to speak such a mouthful so soon after waking.” She smiled brightly down at her, resting her hand on her forehead again. She replied with a muddled stare, blinking like an owl in the sunlight.
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“How did I get here? You don’t. . . You don’t look like a wolf. You look like a valkyrie.Valkyrie women have golden hair, like yours, not fur and fangs and claws. Would you like to wear my coat? It must be cold. It feels cold.”
She just chuckled warmly at her. She was a persistent one. “Are you hungry? You seem
confused, and you haven’t eaten in two days now.”
The woman nodded, inhaling deeply. “I can smell something good,” she sighed longingly. “Oh, that right. My name is Calypso.” She said it as though it were a foreign name, and she heard her repeat it several times under her breath, as if digging for the meaning in it.
“Calypso, huh? That’s a powerful name. My own is not nearly as noble. Shadow, at your service, my Lady Calypso. My Sire was ProudMane, prior pack leader, and my Dam is MoonShade.”
Her head seemed to be clearing itself from the cobweb-like shackles of sleep. Her eyes gained sharpness by the minute, as Shadow removed the bubbling brew from the hissing fire. “Was. . . You said he was your sire. Does that mean-”
“Yes. He died in battle, may he rest in peace, to protect my mother, and my newborn self and siblings. I don’t remember much of him honestly. My kin perished, but like I said, I really don’t remember.”
She muttered her condolences, and attempted to sit up. Shadow swiftly, yet gently, pushed her back into a resting position, surprised by the unnatural warmth that blossomed within her at the touch of her skin. “You. . . You have Lord knows how many broken ribs, one twisted ankle, and one shredded ankle, a gash across your back, and many other little frayed bits. You’ll do no moving about until I give you the all clear.” Her tone implied she would be keeping a close eye on her. Her gaze softened, her motherly disapproval melting into a kinder countenance. “Now open up, you’ll enjoy this, I promise.”
She carefully spooned the first few mouthfuls down her throat. She watched her mossy
emerald eyes brighten, and her pale, almost blue tinted skin, flush with color. She let out a hearty sigh, and sunk into the nest, her fiery red hair was messy from sleep, and she watched her fingers toy with it. A nervous habit? Shadow changed her bandage--she didn’t seem to mind her own nudity either, strange for a Hua’Kyr--and poured some of the still simmering mixture into a cup, setting it beside her.
“Well, uhm, Miss Shadow, thank you for taking care of me. I. . . I would have died. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“Just rest in bed, get better, and perhaps stay for the harvest festival? It really is quite the experience,” she spoke with an excited trill, like she was about to break into song. “Please behave. I’m going to get meat from our stores. I’m sure you’re starving, and that little brew isn’t going to do more than just tide you over. I’ll also fetch you fresh clothes while yours are being repaired.”
She turned to leave, but Calypso reached out, setting a surprisingly strong hand on her shoulder. “Wait. It feels cold. You should put something on. My pack, do you have my pack?” She spotted it. “There’s a cloak inside of it. It’s very warm, and will keep out any chill, even if it’s raining.” Was that a protective spark she saw in her strange dark eyes? She saw it shining out at her from under her powerful brow. She smirked. It was rather fitting. Shadow, however, was more than capable of taking care of herself, and felt there were treading dangerous waters.
“I thank you for the offer, but theres no need. My pelt will keep me warm. Though honestly, my concern right now isn’t the cold, it’s the rain!” She joked with her, patting the fine wolf fur cloak slung across her bare back, before trotting out of the room. She secured the pelt, and rushed off to the coffers.


When she came back, a pack wolf at her side, bundled with clothes and packages of meat, she found Calypso sitting up taking huge gulps of the brew in the cauldron. Her eyes widened with shock. She’d already drained half of it! Not only that, but her eyes were clear and focused when she looked up at her. She didn’t even look tipsy.
“Welcome back,” She greeted, her dusky, elegant voice was bolstered with strength. How could somebody become so well in such a short span? She shook her head, and decided it was better saved for later. Perhaps her Nest-Keeper had done something while she was gone, that wouldn’t be quite so uncommon. Even as she thought it, she discounted it, she knew something was different about this Hua’Kyr.
“Thank you Lady Calypso,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “I’ve brought temporary clothes for the time being, I hope that’s alright. You can change into them while I prepare something. You don’t have to eat it, you can nibble if you want.”
“Nay, I’ll devour it. I’m famished!” She responded, accepting the clothes gratefully. “Why do you keep calling me ‘Lady’ anyway? It’s not like I’m royalty, or anything so grand as that.”
“Ah, no. But it’s because of our Malunarian Laws,” she explained, gently stoking the fire. “Our customs.” She opened the package of meat as she gathered her thoughts. “We pray to the Lunar goddess, Malunara. She’s supposedly the most beautiful of all the higher forces. Her customs dictate that even if one of us were obviously superior to a stranger, in this case you, we must treat them as a higher up. You’ll find we have a lot of strange customs,” she let out a pleasant giggle, and began to prepare a stew. She guessed Calypso hadn’t ingested the veiled teasing jab at her status.
“Aye, it is strange, but I think I like it. It’s more respectful than a lot of the unsavory places I’ve found myself in. May I ask something?”
“You have already asked me something, but please, entertain me with another something,” She said in an amicable way, eyes focused on the task of cutting the meat into even strips. Though this was a challenge. She was inexplicably drawn to the voluptuous female who currently resided in her bed. The young wolf whined restlessly at her side. She grunted something in reply. It seemed to nod, and trotted swiftly away.
“I’ve caught glimpses of colorful lanterns, heard singing, and talk of a festival. Even you, M’lady Shadow, have invited me to stay for it. What are you celebrating?” She watched Calypso out of the corner of her eye, and smiled to herself. She looked more at ease than before. Was she taunting her back? She guessed from the mischievous glint in her eyes, she was.
“Yes, there’s a harvest festival! Isn’t it exciting? If you want, you can stay until it’s over, it’s really a lot of fun. We gorge ourselves before the lean winter months, and have a celebration that lasts from the rise of Malunara, until she sets again after the suns reign.” She thanked the wolf who’d come back to drop yet another package for her, and left again, giving Calypso a friendly sniff, and a wag.
“That sounds fun. I’m probably going to be a little battered until then anyway. But why don’t you store the food? It must be uncomfortable to feast then fast, right?”
She shook her head, her canine ears flapping comically. “It’s not for the bellies though. It’s for the spirit. It’s more important to tend the spirit then it is to tend the belly. Another one of our many ‘strange’ customs, I’d say,” she teased back.
“I see,” She said softly, then lapsed into a thoughtful silence. The only sounds that prevailed were the metallic susurrus of her cutting knife, and the peaceful gurgle of a boiling stew. It was a while before either of them spoke.
“Shadow?” She asked slowly, as if planning her next words carefully. “I haven’t. . . Done, or even said, anything strange, have I? I would hate to think that in my illness, I insulted your hospitality.”
“I don’t think so. My wolves said you use magic, but I figure that’s a common gift among humans.” She said, using their word for it out of respect. “Then again, everything is strange in one way or another. Did you know ,” her voice dropped to a low whisper, seizing her chance, “My nose never forgets a smell?” She still wondered why it was that Calypso didn’t smell entirely human. And why it was she smelled strangely familiar.
“Really now? What do I smell like?”
“Like blood,” She said, wrinkling her nose. “And, well, sort of like a dragon.” She watched her reaction carefully. She noticed Calypso stiffen, face going white. As soon as she said it, it fixed itself in her mind. She did smell like a dragon. It had been a while, many years, since she’d smelled a dragon. And the last one she did smell was dead.
“That’s ridiculous, maybe you should have your nose checked!” She spoke a little louder than was necessary, and her movements were the exaggerated mannerisms of one trying to convey she was calm, but succeeded only in making Shadow more curious. Little ever got past her sharp green eyes.
“Probably. The last time I saw a dragon I was very young. I heard that dragons eat dung to keep their scales shiney. Isn’t that interesting? Kind of gross though, I’m glad I’m not a stinky dragon!”
“They eat metal,” she blurted, then clamped her mouth shut, before cautiously testing, “At least, that’s what I heard. They need it to strengthen themselves. Their bones, or something,” She spoke in an offhand tone, dismissively waving her hand. It convinced her all the more to keep trying. Shadow knew they ate metal for their scales.
“Really? I heard they’re stupid beasts any way, they probably couldn’t tell dung from gold.” She chuckled, minding the stew. She watched her tense with satisfaction. Her face flushed red. She knew it wasn’t the wisest choice to needle a dragon, but she couldn’t help herself. She had to be sure who was trespassing, albeit not entirely unwanted, on her hospitality.
“Dragons are-Were supposedly of greater intelligence than even the gods. They were gods, in a sense,” she retorted defensively.
“I bet they couldn’t even fly half the time, their heads were so full of fa-” She found herself staring into Calypso’s intensely angry eyes. Shadow blinked. She realized, at this distance, one eye was green, and the other was brown. This fact, however, did little to quell her sense of fear.
“We are proud, impudent welp! If not for the fact that I owe you a life debt, I would whip you where you stand!”

Through the red haze, Calypso heard her sing-song voice cry out: “I knew you weren’t human!” She blinked, staring at her hands. She gasped with horror, and backed away from Shadow. She clenched her hands into fists, and mentally kicked herself. Her God-damned pride had gotten her again. Not only did she almost strike an innocent girl, but she let it slip she was a dragon! She slowly looked up, face deeply troubled.
“I’m. . . I am so sorry, Lady Shadow. I shouldn’t. . .” As she grappled with herself to find the words, she felt her fear growing. Would she turn her in to get a bit of gold as well? She seemed kind enough, but who could tell where greed rested in peoples hearts, or how much (or little) it would take to bring it gasping to the surface. She was looking for a way out, perhaps she could bribe her to keep quiet, she wasn’t exactly poor, but-
She let out a startled, pained grunt. Shadow had punched her! Even still, she had the same polite, friendly smile on her face. She reached up her hand, watching her in shock. “You hit like a man.” She grunted, surprised.
“Or maybe you just take hits like a little girl. Please, don’t do that again. I may be a female, but do not think that I am weak because of it. In your draconic state, you would be superior to me, but when you’re like that, a human, we’re on equal grounds.”
She was still utterly shocked. She was used to the domestic woman, submissive and compliant, never would any human woman raise their hand against Calypso.
“And I’m not going to turn you in you know. The humans? Bah, they can keep their filthy money. What would I need with money when I can get from the earth whatever I need. And will you stop standing there with your jaw hanging open, you look ridiculous. I told you, we’re on equal grounds. I’m not a weakling. Technically, you were just struck by a warrior. So don’t look so embarrassed.”
She nodded, rubbing her sore jaw. “Yeah. Sorry. Ouch. You hit hard!”
“Are you still stuck on that?” She asked, exasperated. Her ears drew back defensively, and her tail tip twitched with annoyance.
“I mean it as a compliment, little one. You are far more fierce than you appear,” she said, chuckling a little, placing her hand on her head, caressing her swiftly, before sitting back down with a heavy sigh. She stretched her jaw muscles, trying to work out the kink. She suddenly became very interested in the woodwork figures on the shelves, pretending not to see the rosy tint that blossomed across Shadow’s face. She stared dumbly at her for a few seconds, before shaking her head, and shakily turning away.
“Thank you, Lady Calypso. I’m glad you understand now.” Though she spoke very softly. She nodded as she watched her work. She was still a little surprised. She didn’t look the type to be that fierce. Though, she supposed, she is a wolf after all.
Nothing about her seemed remotely threatening. She had a soft, round face, a button nose, and low, subtle cheekbones. She had large, deep-set, almond shaped green eyes, her pupils were dilated, giving her an excited look. They were framed with softly curling black eyelashes, not quite so thick as her own. Her eyebrows were up, as a perpetual surprised stance, but she found it charming. Her pale skin was smooth, and unmarked, save for a few scars. And of course the pink hue that still radiated from her face. She had rose-petal pink, bow-shaped lips, curving up into a smile.
She had long, smooth hair, almost wavey. At the roots of her hair, it was a deep, dark golden brown, which lightened as it grew, until a beautiful, wheat-gold cascade of hair fell around her shoulder blades. She didn’t stop there either. She indulged herself with the rest of her, drinking in her form. She was by no means small, or thin. She had a thicker set, wide hips, and a narrower waist, she wasn’t chubby either. She had long legs, and a round hind. She tried to rid herself of the lustful thoughts. Shadow noticed she’d been staring, and was giving her an incredulous look, one eyebrow arched as if to ask, “Really?” She grinned sheepishly, and turned over, looking away from her, and instead at her room.
The smooth walls, which looked like the inside of a tree, were lined with bookshelves bursting with books. There were hundreds upon hundreds, ranging from full tomes, to light scrolls, and everything in between. The leather on some of the bound books was old, and cracking. She couldn’t make out the words inscribed on the spines of the books from a distance. Some were far too faded. Others were just too small.
“Am I to assume you are somewhat of a bibliophile?” She asked, watching her prick up from the corner of her eye. She smirked, seeing her tail wag slightly, as though excited.
And she was. “Oh yes, I love books. I hardly find the time to read them anymore though, sometimes my Nest-keeper reads to me when I go to sleep.” She looked as though she was ready to pour her fervent love of books to her guest. Calypso chuckled.
“If you want, you can take a break, and I’ll read to you?” She offered, smiling gently at her. Her green eyes shone like stars in the candlelight. Shadow nodded, looking euphoric. She stood stock still, then shook herself.
“Okay, but you have to eat first,” She spoke, voice cracking a bit. “And you have to keep sitting down, I don’t want you hurting yourself,” She looked uncertain, eyes wide. Guilty, almost.
“What’s wrong, Shadow?” She asked, reaching her hand out to her, cupping her face in her hands. Her warm eyes met Shadow’s dreamy eyes, and she watched, almost pleased, as pink tinged her cheeks. Dragons were good at that, due to the powerful, intoxicating magic that flowed through their ancient veins.
“I feel bad, is all,” She mumbled. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything for me. Besides, you’re hurt. I shouldn’t even consider-”
“Consider letting me read? In bed? Where’s the logic in that? Besides nothing, I want to read. I am a dragon, after all, I’m not as weak as you think,” She gave her a cheeky grin, and she responded with an exasperated eye-roll.
“Only if you’re sure you really want to,” She said quietly. Then, she brightened considerably. “It’s ready,” She said to nobody in particular.
She poured some of it into a bowl, a small serving for herself, and set it to the side. She looked around, and found a larger bowl, filling it for her, and set it before her. She quieted the crackling fire, making sure it was only burning at a very warm smoulder. She sat down, eating slowly, her eyes fixed thoughtfully to the ground. She drained her bowl, and put it beside the pot, but didn’t refill it. Calypso was on her third bowl.
“This is delicious Shadow!” She declared in between bites. Shadow was right. She was famished. She demolished most of the pot within a few minutes, then sat back in her nest with a content sigh. “Go ahead, pick any book you want me to read,” she said, waving her hand.
She hummed softly, getting up, and looking through her shelves. She traced her fingertips across shelf after shelf, until she came across one. She pulled it out, gently, cradling it to her breast. She presented it to her, and sat at a distance, legs crossed, watching her intently.
She looked it over. It was a fairytale. She could gather that much. She’d never heard of it though, so she supposed it had it’s origins in Shadow’s culture. Just as she opened the book, a flurry of feathers landed in the room, squawking raciously. A small owl sat before them. Or, was it a dragon?
Calypso had never seen such a curious creature. Long and sinuous, it resembled a great horned owl with it’s talons, feathers, and wings, but it’s eyes were brighter, more intelligent. It had a long body, with two sets of legs, and a thick pair of wings folded on its’ sides. Its’ tail was long and tapered, ending in a fan of feathers she assumed were for ruddering. It looked over at Shadow.
“Mistress, I’m so sorry ter interrupt, but yer needed in the dining hall. Stelward’s made a mess a’ things again.” Calypso was surprised. It had a gentle voice, like an old matron. A female. She bowed before Calypso, sweeping her wing over her broad chest in a gesture of respect. “Hail, Sky-Lord,” She said, before crawling up Shadow’s body, and wrapping herself around her neck. The creature was only about two-and-a-half feet in length. Maybe longer.
“Again? Moonfeather, you’re supposed to be keeping an eye on him,” Shadow groaned, hanging her head. Moonfeather clicked her beak, and softly nipped Shadows’ ear.
“I’d left the room fer only a moment, I assure yeh. There was a rat sniffing about by the door. When I came back, he’d managed ter crack the table in half,” She shook her head. “Solid oak, that was! How could he have even managed it? Stalward’s more trouble than he’s worth,” Moonfeather groaned. “I sent him away, but I need yer help, he’s knocked everything off schedule,” she tutted.
“Always when I go to relax,” She sighed in response, looking to Calypso. “I’m sorry about all this. . . I feel bad leaving you here all alone.” She perked up. “Oh, but I have an idea! There’s a little spot higher up that we just call the ‘Den,’ you could stick around there for a little while. Maybe eat their food, instead of all mine,” She teased. “It’s quite comfortable, and you seem to have strength enough, for sitting, at least.”
“Bite me,” She responded in kind, but accepted her offer, and thanked her graciously.

It was a nice place. It was similar to a bar, but it was also so much more than that. People were courting through dance and song, creations were being fine-tuned, friends were telling stories, shop-keepers were selling their wares, all within the confines of a massive, multi-terraced den within the tree.
Though she was a little sour about the fact that the only reason she was even allowed to be “out and about,” was because Shadow made her promise she wouldn’t do anything to strain herself, and she had to stay in The Den.
Calypso sat with Moonfeather at her side. The young owl told her of life in Oak’En, and the trials they had to face. She found the conversation quite interesting, and definitely appreciated being privy to alien customs. Moonfeather at one point had curled around herself, her broad face aimed at the red-headed female, sitting on the table as she spoke. Her steel gray talons clacked against the table as she explained that she was the owl who had guided her in the dark.
“Thank you, Moonfeather. . . But why?” She’d asked, meeting her huge eyes, and seeing a gentle, knowing spark within them.
“Because ye are a dragon. And because ye were lost. My mistress took me in when I were a stubborn, witless hatchlin’, but I’ll be plucked it she didn’t teach me we all have ter look out fer each other in this wicked world.” She responded, looking content.
Calypso just nodded, staying silent for a while, more than happy to watch the colorfully outfitted Fang’Kyr bustle about, drinking and laughing. Then; “You say she took you in? Shadow, I mean?”
She hooted with laughter. “I’m not daft child, I realize ye were speakin’ of Shadow. And aye,” She chuckled. “My Dam cast me out when I were just a wee little one, so I had ter look out fer myself. She found me, ravaging the rats in the cellar a’ the tree, and convinced her Sire ter let me stay. Shadow weren’t much older than I at the time, but boy, were she a fierce one!”
“What do you mean?”
“Eager, aren’t we?” She nudged her playfully. “She tolerated none a’ my foolishness, I tell ye. Now, she weren’t cruel, mark that, but she didn’t like it when I slacked off, or said summat I shouldn’t have. A swift cuff ter the head, that’s what I’d get all right,” She said cheerily, no trace of bitterness or anger. Calypso noted how highly she spoke of Shadow.
“So you were a trouble case, I take it?” she asked, stroking the top of her head, which tilted with obvious pleasure at the gesture.
“That’s the easy way ter put it!” She chuckled again, and rested her head on her talons, looking up at her. Her head swiveled around, and her eyes narrowed with a viscious speed.
“Ack! Away wee jackal! This ain’t yer mate, so fly the coop! Find prey elsewhere,” She cawed angrily, chasing away the fourth male who’d approached the shady back table Calypso occupied. Muttering mutinously, and casting dark glances back at Moonfeather, the young raven-haired dog hung his head, ashamed for a moment, then strode proudly away.
Calypso found all four of her suitors rather attractive, dusky, charming, gloriously toned, all with the same charming features most of the inhabitants shared. The elegant tail that poked freely from their custom-made clothing, and the sentinel-like ears perched atop their heads. She could see herself easily getting on with those men, but also found a barrier. As attractive as she found them, the thought of pursuing a night with any one of them caused Shadow’s friendly visage to force its way to the forefront of her troubled mind.
It would be wretched of her to steal their hearts, and then to run off, as she would have to. It would be an insult to Shadow’s hospitality. She had places to be. She thought briefly of her charges, but waved the thought away. They deserved a break.
She also thought Shadow would be a far worthier mate than any one of them, not because she was beautiful, but because she wasn’t just some princess begging to be saved. She chuckled morbidly to herself, thinking she would probably befriend the dragon that locked her up in a tower, perhaps even use the beast as her steed, before she would ever let herself sit around, wanting to be rescued all the time. She smirked to herself, wondering what would happen if she were the dragon to lock her up. Besides, from the looks of it, Shadow was quite a powerful figure in the village. Calypso enjoyed power.
That didn’t stop her eyes from jumping from one suitor to the next, most of them, including the females, only wore trousers to preserve their modesty. Moonfeather noticed her wandering eyes, and tutted.
“Now now lass, what’s with yer moony eyes? Would ye like it if I stopped chasin’ the wee studs away?” She looked both concerned, and unwilling at the same time. She wondered if this was a test.
“Not at all. I was just. . . Bored, I guess. Would there happen to be a training hall around here somewhere?”
“Aye, but yer not in any fit condition ter use it, ye know,” She said, looking up at her from under her thick, feathered eyelids.
“I don’t want ‘ter use it,’ I want to sit in. To watch. Maybe I can learn some new fighting techniques, or something. Don’t get me wrong, I love this little niche, but I’d love to see your villages fighting style.”
Before speaking, she cuffed her with her fanned tail, seeming satisfied with the resounding “Ouch!” That tumbled out of her mouth. “Alright, but ye have ter promise not to engage in the fightin’! Shadow’ll have my flight feathers if ye do. And don’t ye get cheeky with me, gal,” She growled.
“Do all the women here behave so violently?” She asked, sighing theatrically, as though mortally offended. “But yes, you have my word,” she said, ruffling her head feathers. Her fingers were crossed tightly, and out of sight.
“Ah, follow me then,” She rolled her eyes, hefting herself into the air. She led her down the labyrinth of corridors and chambers, the ever growing sound of clashing blades was enticing. She could almost smell battle in the air. It lent to her strength, her hot blood boiling away injury.
Finally, they reached the training hall. It was massive and brightly lit. She seated herself at the edge, watching the men and women sparring, or training alone. Moonfeather settled on a ledge behind her. It wasn’t long before she heard the deep, even sounds of a sleeping owl. Magic had its’ perks, alright. She hardly needed the splint on her ankle.
She got up, stalking about the outside of the training groups. She prowled back and forth, her wounds barely troubled her. She checked that Moonfeather was still asleep before retreating to a far corner, and practicing by herself. The tamer exercises didn’t do more than spark a dull pain in her side. The more she advanced, the more confident she felt, until she was gracefully, and yet wildly swinging through the stances, sword in hand, like a dervish of blades.
She stopped, sweat drenching her electrified body, and gladly accepted a clean rag to mop her face. The young boy politely wished her a good day, and took the rag back after she was done, no doubt to be cleaned. After, she decided to take a break. She resumed her prowling around the hall, but this time, began to instruct those around her.
Whenever she saw an incorrect stance, or a misused weapon, she swiftly righted them, often getting approval, or thanks from those she helped, or those nearby. She guessed it had less to do with the fact that she was actually helping them, and more to do with the fact that she was a rather attractive woman.
It wasn’t long before she was swamped with requests for advice, stories, and tips for battle. She happily obliged, quickly becoming the most respected figure in the hall. Not that she minded. She liked the attention.
She oversaw training, watching a few potentials soar. She was approached by a scattered looking, sandy haired boy. The obviously younger looking boy had a shifting pair of sandy ears atop his head, and a matching tail. He didn’t give his name, but he challenged Calypso, who grinned widely, like a fox.
“Fool,” she chuckled, though kindly. “It’s your loss, I guess.”
They met in the center of the training field, and stood, watching each other carefully, in full battle stance. A hush settled over the onlookers, an excited silence buzzed through the hall. With only the slightest of signs, the battle began.
Calypso’s first thought was, wow, he’s fast. Her second was much less kind. Fast, but sloppy. He seemed to have no trouble dancing away from the blade Calypso wielded, but his blows were messy and easy to avoid.
Her opponent held his blade, dulled tip pointing at the ground. Calypso watched his fist clench around the hilt. Fast as lightning, her opponent swung upwards. She brought her blade sailing downwards through the air to meet her foe. Her own blade caught the other on the cutaway. She felt the vibrations run up her arm. She didn’t care to imagine what it did for the poor fool’s sword.
Calypso felt her whole body become fluid. Moving from one pose to the next, changing direction with the simplest of nudges. She could sense the sword as it whistled through the air, and knew how to avoid it’s cold bite. Her sensitive ears could read the subtle changes in airflow. She lunged again, wielding the larger greatsword with near impossible dexterity. This time she came off worse in the exchange. Her opponent caught her with the crossguard, and swung with a second blade he’d hidden away. The flat of the blade bruised her arm. A stream of curses hissed through her teeth as she disengaged.
The crowd surrounding them were nothing more than a useless blur as Calypso rained a hail of return blows upon her opponent. Once she’d almost lost, her opponent scissoring his twin shortswords to catch Calypso’s blade, nearly wrenching it from her grasp. The shock of it reverberated up her arm, and seemingly up into her head where it caused an explosion of stars behind her eyes. She had to stop herself now, on more than one occasion, actually, from drawing a fire spell to her lips. The small sandy-haired boy was infuriating. Calypso wanted to wipe the smirk from his arrogant face.
Sparks flew with the metallic hiss that often ensued as two swords glanced each other. With a wretched snarl ripping from her chest, she lunged forward, aiming to ‘kill’. The boys’ sword rose, deflecting her blow as her sword sheared down the edge of her opponents’. Calypso narrowed her eyes. She struck again, this time from below. Her sword ripped through the air with violent intent. It broke through one of the shortswords, shattering it. Her adversary had to leap out of the way to avoid the rest of the deadly path. Now he only has one left, Calypso thought, that’ll put a damper on his style.
Standing back, panting lightly, she intently watched her adversary. She tried to get a feel for the way he used his body. With her draconic eyes, Calypso had the advantage of noticing details he couldn’t never hope to. Her eyes widened with delight. She wiped her brow, and took a resting stance. The sandy-haired boy followed suit, seeming confused. Nobody spoke.
Calypso darted forward again, this time she swung her blade fast and low. She managed to slip into the boys’ defenses. Calypso stopped just before making contact, and whirled away, now toying with this newly discovered weakness. The boy kept his eyes firmly locked on her own, and that left him wide open to attacks coming in from the extreme range of his vision. Calypso also realized that he had a hard time adopting the flow of battle, and merely fought in his own, hectic style. It was as a switch flipped in her brain.
With renewed vigor she struck, the boy straining to keep up, but in her arrogance, Calypso wanted to show the boy just why she wasn’t to be trifled with. She could see mounting fear in his clear blue eyes, which only encouraged her to press harder. No mercy to be had in her furious onslaught. It was almost like a siege of will, and Calypso was winning. Her own excitement was palpable. The ancestral thrill of fury coursing through her veins.
She landed seven blows in rapid succession, rewarded with a wince with each one. She brought her blade down directly over head. Her opponent nearly fell backwards. She lunged, stabbing forward, an uncharacteristic move for her. She had both hands on the hilt of her hand-and-a-half sword. It sliced through the air, even with it’s dulled edges.
She hardly noticed when her breath wouldn’t come, nor when a black haze fell over her eyes. It was like trying to move through tar. Everything sounded disconnected. She noted with pleasure, the look of surprise that crossed his face when the flat of Calypso’s blade rapped him on the head.

Head ringing and feeling very sore, Calypso rose. Less than a wingbeat later, she sunk back into bed, pretending to be asleep. Muffled though it was, she could hear Shadow raging fiercely. She could just make out the voice of the boy she’d faced, guilty and apologetic, as he accepted Shadows’ relentless anger.
“She was injured, Stalward! Injured! You could have killed her! You almost did! Fine thanks that would have been, if she really did ‘’help you’ as much as you say,” she hissed. Calypso did not envy Stalward.
“M’Sorry Miss, but she didn’t look like she was injured! She was prancing ‘round the Training Hall like a she-cub! I swear it, yes I do,” He responded timidly. One could almost hear the tremble in his limbs, or how diminished he was.
Shadow snorted cynically. “Then why did you run off and hide, hm? Why not get help, instead of hiding your little tail in the canopy, waiting for the heat to die down?”
Calypso couldn’t hear his reply, but it seemed to only enrage her further. “You’re damn right you’re gonna be in trouble for this! You can wash dishes in the kitchen for the next Moon-Cycle.” Her voice softened. “And try to stay out of trouble, brother,” Calypso was sure she shouldn’t have heard the last bit, which was spoken in an undertone.
She was confused. Wasn’t Shadow an only child? She shrugged it off, and figured she had her own reasons not to tell her. It wasn’t like she had any reason to have to tell her anyway. She owed her nothing. She did her best to push away the small twinge of something that nagged at her, and did her best to pretend she was asleep.
She stiffened as Shadow walked in the room, still seething. She began hurriedly cleaning and organizing, she would wait patiently until she calmed, then ‘conveniently’ wake up. Maybe she’d even get another meal. She was starving. Then again, she always seemed to be starving nowadays.
“I know you’re awake. You may as well just sit up, and let me chew you out,” She growled, not facing her.
“Ah, so the wolf has sharper eyes than I thought,” She chuckled. While she did want to avoid this, she found her rather amusing. Cute, even. She looked too gentle to be taken seriously.
“Don’t toy with me right now, Calypso,” she spat. “I am so not in the mood to deal.” Her tail lashed furiously, and her ears were plastered to her skull. “You almost died. Again! You were bleeding inside! It took all of what little magic I had to stop it.”
“Well, I’m glad you are so taken with me, that my death distresses you so much. But I’m made of stronger stuff than that. I won’t die.”
“Oh, whatever!” She cried out. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, so you’re not going to take me seriously.”
Another impish comeback died on her tongue. She looked at her, and noticed something she hadn’t before. Shadow was shaking with exhaustion. A powerful wave of guilt crashed over her. She could hardly stand without swaying on the spot. Her face hardened.
In two bounds she crossed her circular den, and grabbed her on the shoulder, turning her about swiftly. “When was the last time you got a decent nights sleep?” She demanded, eyes narrowed as she watched her pale.
“It’s not any of your business, so please don’t-”
“Damn it Shadow, it is my business.” She chewed on her words, bending her pride just enough to let her say: “It’s partially my fault you’re like this. Go lay down.”
She looked indignant. “I have work to do! The festival is in a few days, and you’re injured! I can’t just sleep, not now,” She cried shrilly. She could see a desperate longing to accept her words, and sleep.
“I’ll be fine. I promise, okay? I won’t leave the room, not for anything. You just lay down, and sleep. I’ll wake you if anything urgent comes along. I’ll get Moonfeather to help me handle the little stuff, okay?”
She looked torn and thoughtful for a few moments, then conceded. She laid down where Calypso was only a few minutes earlier, and she watched as a look of utmost peace fluttered across her face, and she was out like a candle in the wind.
Calypso approached her, and rested a rough, calloused hand on her head. She smiled down at her serene face, tucked a blanket tight around her, and sat in the doorway, looking out at the village.

When she finally awoke, Shadow felt revived. It was dark, and Calypso was asleep by the archway into her den. She shifted her gently, to make sure she was comfortable, before heading off to the Pools. The Pools were a collection of natural springs the grasping roots of the tree had captured, and claimed for their own. The tree did not drink from them, however, and they created a wonderful spot for grooming.
She was feeling pretty good, refreshed, and ready to work. She reminded herself to thank Calypso when she got up. With new determination, she threw herself into the preparation of the village for the festival.
The hours melted away like fat before a fire. Calypso grew stronger with every time she saw her, and the entire tree was ablaze with barely contained excitement. Shadow had even been working on something for herself, and Calypso. She just had to wait.
With only hours to spare, and everything in it’s place, Shadow rushed back to her cozy den. Calypso was passing the time by honing the edge of her sword, and she was comforted by the now familiar rasp of a whetstone. She looked up when Shadow came in, and gave her a crooked smile.
“What can I do for you?” She asked, clearly seeing the question burning at her tongue.
“I wanted to ask you. . . Well. . . When the festival comes around, people. . . Sort of pair up. They wear bands, like these,” She held up two woven bands of green and bronze, “And it’s like. . . A partner. I’ve never had a partner for the festival, and it’s not like mate stuff, it’s like friend stuff,” She was fast becoming tongue tied.
Fortunately, Calypso caught her before she fell too far. “I would love to, you don’t have to be so nervous. I’m not going to bite your head off.” She took the proffered band, and put it around her wrist. “Now, what’s that?” She asked, inclining her head to the package she had hidden behind her back. A few strands of hair from her ponytail fell loose, and hung around her face, framing her dusky smile. She ran a hand across the top of her head, trying, however vainly, to put the curling locks back in place.
“I made it. . . It’s a special garment, worn during celebratory times. Think of it as my present to you,” Shadow responded, her heart rapidly swelling in her chest until she could swear she could fly. She could feel a smile stretching across her face, bright as the sun.
She presented it to Calypso, and watched in satisfaction, the stunned countenance that had swiftly replaced her look of shrewd confident control. She was dumbfounded. It was a cobalt blue, silken dress with a long, winding, copper dragon whose head rested on the right breast, curled around the body twice, and ended in its' pointed tail on her lower left side. It had a red silk belt to hold it closed.
“This is. . . Beautiful Shadow. Thank you.” And much to her surprise, she bowed. She gave her another charming smile, stroked her head, and spoke again. “Now, give me some privacy, will ya? I’m going to change into these.”
She left Calypso to change into her own festival raiment. She worked all year on her own, and was quite proud. She was going all out on her ‘costume’ this year. She scrambled to get everything in place, and when she had, she rushed about her tiny bath-chamber to ready herself for the event. A little bubble of excitement rose within her, doing nothing to quiet her anxious stomach. She hummed a little tune, which slowly bloomed into a full-blown song. It echoed back to her wonderfully, filling the air with her melody.
After she’d finished, she looked herself in the mirror her father put there-before he died, that is. Her form was draped in a green silk dress, reminiscent of the dappled pattern of sunlight through the forest canopy. A large, chestnut brown ribbon was wrapped around her midriff, coming to a bouncing bow in the back. The bow held the dress together, as it was split all down the front. It was a long dress that came to her ankles, and was trimmed with the same, warm, pleasant brown. The sleeves came well past her finger, and from the body of the dress, got progressively wider, until they swallowed up her hands.
She’d spread a light, sweet oil on her lips until they shimmered like pools of dew on amorously pale pink rose petals. She used a fine, dark green powder across her eyelids, bringing out the green of her own eyes. She admired her reflection. It was very green. She thought it looked mysterious. She turned once, to watch the hem of her dress sail through the air like leaves gripped by a breeze.
She caught sight of the window, and realized the sun had rose and fell in the time she was there. It was only then she heard the faint sounds of breathing outside the door. A series of loud knocks alerted her to the fact whoever was out there was waiting-
“Are you going to stop singing, and just come out already?” Came Calypso’s teasing voice.
Groaning inwardly, heavy with embarrassment, and hoping the dim evening light would hide the red tinge of her cheeks, she sliddled out slowly. “Yeah, sorry,” she approached Calypso with her head bowed, stirring the air, leaving a warm, sugary scent, like vanilla flowers, in her wake. She couldn’t look up, suddenly taken by an uncharacteristic shyness.
“Beautiful.” She breathed quietly.
“I know,” Shadow responded impishly.
She noted, with a fair amount of pleasure, Calypso was still wearing her band. She’d donned her own, taken her hand, and upwards they climbed.
Shadow explained on the way up, that it was traditional to climb with your partner to the top of the tree, where they’d find a perch together, and watch the sun go down with the whole village. Everything would be eerily silent, it was a somber time. When the moon peeked her face over the horizon, the entire village would drop back to the earth, and the festival would begin. It wouldn’t end until she set the next day.
“Sounds fun,” Calypso said, having a fair bit of trouble navigating the tree. Shadow knew she’d let her go up first because she thought Shadow would need help. It was she, however, who was playing catch-up, panting as though she’d run several leagues, while Shadow waited calmly on whatever bough or branch she’d managed to perch on.
As they got higher, it became more difficult. The leaves became more dense, and the branches were thicker and more frequent. Shadow even seemed to have trouble navigating here. She felt it was worth it though, and urged Calypso on. Her excitement was tangible as they breached the top, and saw hundreds of others. Calypso located a branch thick enough to sit on, and helped herself. Shadow plunked herself down on her lap, leaning her back against the branch adjacent to the one Calypso was propped against, and let her feet dangle in the cool breeze.
They exchanged a brief glance, and Shadow felt another wave of uncharacteristic warmth for the fire-headed female. She blinked away the mooniness in her eyes, and tried to focus herself on the ceremony. She was finding it very difficult. Her heart was confused.
They sat in silence, the sun lazily falling towards the horizon, splashing the scattered clouds with golden oranges and pinks. The sky ranged from a deep red to a royal indigo. A chorus of crickets sang, lacing the evening air with their song. A few fireflies drifted about, punctuating the crickets and cicadas, glowing and fading like embers. She could smell the slight, spicy scent of damp wood. Nobody moved.
Shadow leaned her head back, drinking in the warm-yet-cool air, trying to quiet the sensation in her loins, and felt the tension mount. Only a sliver of the sun remained. Everybody watched it until it had hidden itself completely. The sun was gone, and Malunara looked down at them from her roost in the sky. A single, haunting strain of music slowly wandered through the branches, and it grew. A lone voice was soon joined by many. Shadow added her own voice to the din, tossing back her blond locks in a jubilant howl. She let out her excess feelings in the passionate howl. Even Calypso joined in, her rough, guttural howl sounding less like a wolfs’ and more like a dragons’.
Shadow went first, dropping from the tree with Calypso close behind. They slowed to almost hovering speed just before they hit the ground, thanks to a massive enhancement Shadow had helped weave, and locked fingers before rushing off to join to festival goers.
As it was every year, the tree was decorated splendidly. Colorful lanterns of all shapes and sizes flickered merrily. Faint moonlight filtered down light stardust, painting the leaves with a dappled silver. Everything was ribboned, or painted in bright, vivid fall colors, and on every corner there was some sort of vendor, or bard, or musician playing, selling, and singing.
“Come on!” Shadow cried out, dragging her forward through the dimly lit gravel paths. The tree hovered above them as always, swaying inexorably, swathing the entire village in the comfort of foliage, hiding their procession from the worlds cruel eye.
They stopped before one of the vendors, a portly, jolly man who sold masks carved from the shed bark of the tree, and painted with intricate designs. Shadow picked one for herself, a wolf mask that covered the top half of her face. She laughed, and gave Calypso a dragon mask.
Calypso chuckled back, green-and-blue eyes twinkling from behind the mask. The vendor, a man named Cesar, wished them a good night, and waved them off.
Shadow smiled back at Calypso, and felt a mild twinge of jealousy, watching her eyes trail from one body to the next, a covetous look on her face. She shook her head, and let it go. She was just imagining it. She firmly told herself this.
Together they flitted from booth to booth, sampling all sorts of delightful foods, spending special coins they only used during celebrations. They could be traded to vendors in humans cities for real gold. Though her words were noble, even Shadow had to admit, her village did need a little gold from time to time.
“What’s going on over there?” Calypso asked, vaguely motioning her hand towards a large gathering. She’d pulled up her mask, like a visor, so it rested atop her head.
“It’s a bard! She’s going to tell a story! Let’s go,” She trilled, feeling a little off-kilter from the large amount of cordial she’d imbibed.
They rushed to the group of onlookers, Shadow scrambled up, and sat on Calypso’s Shoulders, with permission of course. She held her legs tightly, so she wouldn’t fall, and showed not even the tiniest sign of strain. Shadow wondered if she detected the faintest trace of amusement in her eyes.
The girl looked a little nervous. She was standing on a rock so she could see out over the sea of faces, all upturned, waiting expectantly. She was the daughter of the previously most respected bard of the tree, who’d passed recently. She trembled slightly, and tried to begin. She faltered, then pressed on.
“I. . . Heard a story from my father once. . . And I’m going to tell you about it.” She began slowly. Shadow noted that none of the procession looked disheartened by her admittedly weak start.
She told her audience of their Goddess, Malunara, and her incomparable beauty. Malunara had a sister. A woman by the name of Faustella. Faustella was a beautiful maiden as well, but she was only a mortal. In her heart, bitterness festered until she grew to hate her sister. In those days, only Hua’Kyr walked the land.
“Her mortal body could not contain all her jealousy and hatred towards her sister, and unraveled. She became just as beautiful, but in a more sinister, evil way. She became the Goddess of deceit, or better known as the Goddess of Spiders. She twisted the forces of the land, forcing the people of Malunara rise against her. In her fear she created us, the earthen dwarves, and all the beasts that stalk the night. Outraged, Faustella created the vile, sinister creatures of the underworld to match her sisters’ army.”
“There were two brothers, Gods themselves, and blood of the warring sisters. They wanted the war to end. The first, Fyrestra, the oldest of the four, sided with Malunara. To protect the fragile life upon his planet, he created dragons, the fearsome birds that prowl the skies, the proud elves, and it’s sister race, the Fae.”
The fourth brother, and the youngest, sided with neither, only himself. His name was lost many centuries ago. He created the sea, and all the races thereforth, declaring himself king of the sea. He fought with whoever could provide him the most. He was a very vain God.”
“The force of their war had almost completely destroyed the earth we now stand upon. When they banded together, they managed to seal Faustella away in the underworld, her domain. The youngest brother let himself become part of the oceans, Malunara became the moon, to watch over our struggles in the night, and Fyrestra become the sun.”
With a bow, she coughed a few times, hopped down from her perch, and was greeted with stunned applause. She curtsied, and darted off to rest her throat. Shadow and Calypso walked away as the crowd dispersed. Shadow was becoming increasingly intoxicated, Calypso, however, still had the shrewd, focused look in her eyes.
Shadow felt light-headed, and requested that they sit down for a few minutes. She nodded, and they sat together, floating in their own thoughts. She leaned her head against Calypso’s shoulder, glad for the solid, unchanging presence to help her keep grounded. She felt an uncomfortable force squirm inside her. Dread was coiled in her belly, and slowly raising it’s ugly head. She didn’t know why.
She pushed it back, and stood. Calypso raised her head, looking slightly surprised. “Already?” She asked, standing with an almighty stretch. Shadow’s belly squirmed again.
“Yeah, I don’t want to sit out for too long,” she said, struggling to subdue her sense of panic. “Hey, you’ve been drinking way more than me. How come you’re not getting fuzzy?”
“The fire in my blood.” She answered. “Burns away everything, illness, alcohol, poison. It’s really useful, actually, but it’s part of the reason dragons were so prized. Our blood is. . . Like Phoenix tears.” She helped her up, and steadied her.
Shadow caught a familiar sandy flash out of the corner of her eye. She saw Stalward standing alone, looking guilty. She rolled her eyes. He’d probably broken something again, and didn’t want to get in trouble for it. Shaking her head, she moved on. It wasn’t her problem. Not yet, anyway.

Calypso had to admit: There was never a celebration-at least that she’d been to-like this. Though the hours were dwindling, she was having fun. The various vendors sold food the likes of which she’d never tasted. Handmade crafts, and unique brews and spirits. She enjoyed the myriad of musicians who played almost everywhere, filling the late night air with their song.
Shadow was exhausted. It didn’t take a dragon’s piercing gaze to see it either. Her eyes were perpetually half closed. She was leaning heavily on her, and long yawns punctuated their receding time together. Calypso wondered if she would accompany her. She scratched the thought immediately. Shadow belonged in her village, taking care of her people, and being surrounded by her friends. Not just beside some bronze dragoness with temper issues. She chuckled to herself.
She had really come to feel quite fond of the young she-wolf during her time here, and Calypso loathed to see it end. Something told her, even without her constant charm, and teasing, Shadow was quite fond of her in return.
As their time shortened to only minutes, Calypso was having serious trouble trying to keep Shadow on her feet. Just an hour or so earlier, there had been a magnificent feast. She’d watched Shadow eat most of what was within reach, and then pass out on her plate. She’d had to shake her awake as she’d requested, and try to keep her going until the end.
When it came, she could see why. Even as tired as she was, Shadow was sitting erect, looking up with awe. The lanterns, which she’d discovered were actually made of a frame of sturdy vines, wrapped around with differently colored flower petals, burst open, sending glittering sparks and small, pixie like creatures into the air.
They rained sparkling dust, and more flower petals down upon the village, all of which slowly lost color until they were silver, like fresh virgin snow. They sung an unearthly song, and Calypso watched with apprehension, as white, misty tendrils of something came forth from the earth. All the hair on her body stood straight up, a banshee like wail rose with the apparitions, who swirled into the Sky, disappearing with the very first shaft of sunlight, almost evaporating. She nudged the now dozing Shadow.
“Shadow, what was that?” Calypso asked, still staring up at the sky, as if to catch a glimpse of white.
She yawned again, rubbing her eyes. “Spirits. Bodies stay in the ground all year until the Moon calls them up to her kingdom,” She slurred tiredly. She looked incredulous. She didn’t believe in spirits. But she said nothing. She couldn’t prove what it was, not without further study, but she wasn’t going to argue, especially not with a girl who couldn’t keep her head up.
Calypso knelt down, and scooped her on to her back. Shadow thanked her, muffled though it was, as her face was pressed into her shoulder. She had to wait quite a while before the villagers had dispersed enough to get her back to her room. She let her off, and made sure she got to her bed without collapsing. She smirked at Shadow’s indignation.
“I’m going to go take a soak in the bathhouse. Is that okay?” She asked. She’d long since wiped her face free of any form of decoration. She gave a tired groan of assent, and Calypso left her to sleep.
Calypso saw all over, the Fang’Kyr vacated the streets, and their Nest-Keepers were out in full force. She managed to find the chamber beneath the trees ancient, gnarled, massive roots, only with the help of Moonfeather. She stripped her dress off, hung it up on a polished, inward growing branch, and sunk into the bubbling water.

She wasn’t quite sure when she’d fallen asleep. Only that when she’d woken up, that something wasn’t right. She toweled herself off, abandoning the dress in favor of her traveling clothes. A black tunic, a brown leather belt around her waist, with her sword buckled to her side, white leggings, and black boots that stopped just below her knees. She packed the festival robes into her bag, shouldered it, and wondered what she’d say to Shadow.
A single scream pierced the unsettling stillness. Slowly, a horrible chorus rose. Wailing cries filled village. She rushed into the open. Men. Hundreds of them. All of them wielding weapons, and fully armored. They fell upon the unarmed, unarmored Fang’Kyr. The sight filled her with rage. She drew her sword, roaring like a dragon, cutting down whoever thought it was a good idea to get within her blade’s reach.
These men were untrained, and their style was unimpressive to the dragoness. Jostled along by a panicked crowd, She found it difficult to return their wretched, cowardly actions with broken flesh and bone, bleeding the scoundrels on the ground.
Calypso watched men trampled alive. She struck them enough to cut them down, their thin armor giving way before her sword. She did enough damage to fell them, but no more. Now was not a time for clemency.
Whenever she cut down one of the spineless invaders, she nicked their weapons, and tossed them to whatever friendly faces she saw. She felt pride swell as she saw a few groups form, and feebly fend off the bastards with the techniques she taught them. their courage emboldened the others. As more and more of the villagers came forth, the odds felt evenly stacked.
“To me!” She cried, rallying them. “To me! Fight by my side, and let’s take these curs down. Send them screaming back to their mothers!”
A crowd slowly grew around her, a storm of blades, raining blows down upon the men.
Calypso felt something wasn't right. The men weren’t even fearful at their slowly diminishing ranks. They hardly even moved to block, or stave off an attack. Even in their eyes, there was no fire. No fight. They were dead eyes, like a fish left to rot. This wasn’t just a siege. No, she could sense far more sinister intent in the dark gleam under every armored brow.
She felt her heart sink. Hounds! They set loose domestic hounds on the crowd. She heard a disheartened groan from her makeshift army.
At first she couldn’t see what it was. She almost choked on her disgust. They’d set the tree on fire. It burned relentlessly. The dampness that pervaded the Great Tree and its surroundings did nothing to quell the incessant monster that was fire. It just threw up great plumes of black, acrid smoke that could suffocate any who drew near. The hounds fell upon the weak and helpless. She mercilessly hacked her way through a chunk of the pack.
She saw the familiar glow of golden eyes and stepped back. The wolves would take care of their lost brothers. She watched the villagers try to put out the now inferno-beast that held their home captive. She could see it was hopeless. She briefly thought of Shadow, but shook herself. She’d be fine. Besides, she would never forgive her for trying to play rescue when there were helpless lives at stake.
She made it a point to injure or kill any human with prejudice. She evacuated the homes of many. She found Moonfeather, feathers black as cinder.
“Thank Malunara,” She croaked. “We need to get the villagers out now! Please help me Calypso. Tell them head for the Moon, they’ll know what it means.” She nipped her ear in a grateful way, and flew off.
Following her orders, she began evacuating as the tree burned around them. They seemed to have given up hope, and were only blindly shuffling out her directions. The smoke was too dense to see through now.
Their own pack, massive shaggy wolves, herded around them, snuffing out the life flame of any dog. Their teeth could not be stopped. A few collapsed, arrows sticking out of their sides. Calypso picked up a discarded bow, knocked an arrow, and sent it into the armor of an archer. It didn’t kill, but it sure did scare. The man dropped his weapons, snapping out of his near drunken stupor, and fled. It brought Calypso a great measure of satisfaction.
A shadowy pair of wings seemed to hang around her, like a ghastly halo. So many stopped running to stare, mouth agape. She was their morbid savior. She rushed in and out of homes, helping young and old, fit and infirm, to escape the furnace their shelter had become. She could read hopelessness written upon every heart.
She heard an earsplitting scream from a voice all too familiar. Without hesitation, she damn near flew to Shadows’ den. She found Shadow covered in blood, whether hers of theirs, she could tell not, dress torn, surrounded by men. She didn’t even have time to look up at Calypso before three of the men collapsed, heads no longer attached to their bodies. Her blade was slick with blood.
“Calyps-ACK!” She cried out. She’d snaked an arm around her midsection and ran, jumping from the railing of the edge of her den to the forest floor below. She didn’t slow down until she’d caught up with the rest of the group. The warriors hung back, making sure to keep the invaders at bay. There didn’t seem to be a point. They were not advancing.
Calypso helped her adjust, carrying her. Shadow fought every step, but she refused to relent, as a gash from her forehead was still gushing blood. She’d deftly managed to rip her tunic, wadding it up, and telling her sternly to hold it against her head. This time, she complied. Calypso was determined not to loose another villager. Shadow had only done as she’d asked after she assured her that they evacuated the town.
They trekked for a little under a half an hour before they-the entire surviving population-came to rest a copse encased by a wall of stones, piled up around the trunks of the thick, twisted trees. Calypso was rather reminded of the Devils Trough, the range that encased most of the northern edge of the continent. Like a singled, tired entity, all of the people before her sat, silently mourning the loss of their home. Calypso wasn’t going to try to comfort them with lies. Even the youngest babe cradled to it’s mothers breast knew a great tragedy had just occurred.
They watched as one, their tree slowly disappear, seeming to melt into ashes. A thick, black smoke hung over their hearts, and in the air, like a predatory misery, waiting to pick off it’s next victim, and feast upon the sorrow, and flesh of the fallen. The simple fact that a dragon was in their midst spread like wild fire, and everybody seemed to sit a little straighter. She’d received several hands warmly upon her shoulder, and thanks for her help.
“We wouldn’t have gotten out as well as we did if you didn’t teach us those moves!” Somebody croaked. Several murmurs of agreement rose like water vapor, formless and see through. She appreciated it nonetheless. Shadow stirred at her side. She looked down at her, mildly concerned.
“Mother?” She asked aloud, as though she’d only just realized she’d forgotten to ask. Absorbed by the loss of her home, Calypso didn’t blame her. She hadn’t even met Shadows’ mother in the time he spent there, so she had wondered how prominent of a figure she was.
“She’s here lass! Don’t fret!” Somebody placated her. “She’s asleep though, got hit on her head.”
“A-And Stalward?” She asked hopefully. Shifty mutters and cagey half replies greeted her question. Calypso felt her heart ache for Shadow, as her eyes brimmed with tears. “No. . . He can’t have. . . Brother. . .” She choked weakly, eyes as wide as the full moon. Violent tremors rocked her body, and Calypso pressed herself against Shadow, trying to steady her.
“We saw. . . We saw him fall beneath half a dozen of them. The cowards. He fought bravely, Shadow.” Though when they spoke of him, they looked displeased, as if discussing something filthy.
She let out a hiccuping sob. “And Moonfeather?”
“I’m here child, now don’t ye be cryin’ Moony’ll make everythin’ all better. We’ll have yeh all fixed up real soon, yes indeed.” The matronly owl-beast alighted upon her shoulder, and preened Shadows’ tangled hair with her round beak. Shadow relaxed a little bit. Calypso didn’t move from her side.
“What do we do now?” One voice called out. Nobody seemed to want to answer it. It hung there, a grotesque monster to be ignored. After several minutes had elapsed, one voice spoke up.
“I have brothers in a Fang’Kyr village to the south, Pine’Karyn Vale. I think I could head out there if-” His voice faltered. “If anybody wanted to follow.”
A few people muttered angrily under their breaths. Many more seemed to take it into thought. “Yeah,” Another chimed in. “I’ve heard of a prosperous river village! I mean, there’s nothing we can do here anymore. Didn’t you see them setting our lands with salt as we ran? Nothing will grow now anyway, and the death rights would be a waste, their bodies have been burned too badly. Besides, we’ve always been nomadic, haven’t we?”
“Yeah, because staying in one place for many generations is definitely transient,” Snorted a bystander. They argued back and forth, snarling like an indecisive pack of dogs. Calypso saw shame written across Shadows’ face. She obviously didn’t take them seriously. Calypso wasn’t so sure. There was nothing left for them here now that their homes were gone, and lively hoods destroyed. She was sure attempting to regrow anything from the salted soil would result in famine, and eventually death.
Soon, the argument turned in favor of leaving, and Shadow began to look sick. Calypso leaned her head against Shadow’s. She lay her own against her shoulder. Something unspoken passed between them.
“Traitorous wretches!” Somebody else jeered. “You would abandon your family to the Dark Things?” The elder female was seemingly satisfied with the collective shudder, but nobody else spoke against going.
Calypso shot Shadow an inquisitive look, mouthing “Dark things?” but Shadow shook the question away. Later. Calypso understood.
Shadow watched with growing horror as they made plans to pack up and leave. Their wild, wolfine counterparts had fled for the woods, and many had lost loved ones. Slowly the crowd dwindled. At last only her own mother, and the caretakers remained. Her mother had awakened.
“Mother,” She sniffled softly, looking at the frail woman. Calypso learned she’d always been sickly. “What’s gonna happen now?”
“I’m going with them, dear,” She responded softly. “I see your guilt. Why? I choose this path in my life. I gave you a life of your own, and you should not spend it looking after your mother. Go forth, child. I see you have a good, sturdy companion to help you lay down the road ahead. Don’t worry about me.” Calypso backed away as Shadow embraced her mother.
“But Mother. . .”She cried silently, breaking apart from her, and returned to Calypso at her mother’s stern glance.
“No buts child. Daughter of mine,” She said warmly, breaking of to feebly cough the ash from her lungs. “You know I hate it when you hover,” she cooed, a sly smile curling at the edges of her pale lips.
“Maybe I could help-”
“Now you and I both know that that is a lie. You’d flutter around me, worried and feeling trapped, begrudging your sick mother.”
“I would never-”
But her mother continued on as though Shadow had never spoken, her words gaining strength from her passion. “Don’t think I won’t miss you, but every bird must fly the nest. You’re full of wanderlust, and what kind of mother would I be to chain you to my bedside. We’re going to go to,” She faltered, looking to her companions for assurance, then picked up, though she’d lost most of her fire. “We are going to that little oceanside village I brought you to when you were very young.”
“Shel’Ken Harbor?”
“Yes, that’s the one,” She clapped her hands together, and smiled, her face betraying signs of age. She cast an eye at Calypso, and narrowed her knowing eyes. “Take care of her.” The most vile curses couldn’t hold more threat, or fall so heavy against the ears as her own.
“Yes Ma’am,” she clapped a fist to her breast, and bowed her head to her, feeling the excitement of adventure stirring in her heart.
“I like her,” she beamed softly at Shadow. Calypso gave a wolfish smile, and Shadow tried to join in, but could only manage a weak curl at the corners of her mouth.
After a few hushed parting words, and another tearful embrace, Shadow sat beside Calypso. She snaked an arm around her shoulders, and cooed gently to her, waving as they small company shuffled down the hill.
They sat together, huddled in the faint warmth of each others presence as the sun fell, hiding it’s face as Shadow lost everything she’d ever known.