Dragon

Bruushe yawned, stretching his limbs. He scratched behind one ear and rolled over onto his back.

He tried to slip back into the comfort of sleep, but a familiar rumble in his stomach would not let him rest. He sighed, rolled back over, and got to his feet. He arched his back and felt his spine pop, easing the pain that had gathered there while he slept.

He shook the sleep out of his eyes and shambled towards the rear of the cave, claws clinking on the pile of treasure that was his bed. He took a drink from the clear spring that bubbled up from the rocks, and then began to groom his shimmering blue scales.

When his ablutions were complete, he moved to the cave mouth and inspected the sky. Grey clouds hung low in the sky, promising rain. Bruushe shivered. His joints swelled in bad weather. Heaving another sigh, he stepped outside and flexed his wings. With a kick from his rear legs Bruushe took to the air, leveling off just below the clouds.

As he flew, he scanned the ground for a flock of sheep. Sheep made wonderful prey; they didn't fight back, were tender enough for his old teeth, and the local humans kept more than enough.

He flew for half an hour and began to tire. These days, he kept closer and closer to his lair. He thought about returning to his cave and going hungry again when he spied a flock of sheep, tended by a young human.

Bruushe turned and glided towards the earth. He roared. It was a weak roar compared to those of his youth, but it was still sufficient to send the animals into a panic. The boy ducked for cover.

As he drifted over the flock of terrified sheep, Bruushe snatched up a ewe. His claws gripped the tangled wool of the animal's hide as he turned to return home. The boy dashed towards the nearby village, calling for help.

Bruushe arrived at the cave, and dropped the sheep on the stone floor, worn smooth by use. The animal had already dies of fright. Bruushe was glad he wouldn't have to kill it himself. He began to feed, silencing the rumbling in his stomach.

When he had finished his meal, Bruushe returned to the spring at the back of the cave to clean the blood from his claws. He gazed at his reflection in the waters and thought back on his youth. Remembering how he and his friends would soar and tumble through the clouds, lords of the air.

Bruushe's ancient lids grew heavy. His friends were gone now. He was the only one left. The others had flown south towards warmer, more secluded locales. They had asked Bruushe to come along, but he had remained behind in order to increase his hoard from what the others left behind.

Now Bruushe was old, and not as swift or strong as he used to be. It was becoming harder to hunt. These days he often thought of his old friends and wondered if they remembered him. He wondered how it would have been different had he gone south with them.

Bruushe sighed and returned to his bed. He closed his eyes and dreamed of his friends in the south, tumbling and playing in the warm air. They called to him, inviting him to join them in their sport. Bruushe roared with joy and launched into the air, but was brought up short by a gleaming, golden chain anchored to the floor of his cave.

Bruushe called for help, but his friends only flew higher, eventually vanishing into the clouds. Bruushe raised his head to the angry clouds overhead and roared in loneliness and sorrow as the thunder rumbled and the lightning flashed. Steaming raindrops fell on him, burning into his flesh. Bone poked through in places, and Bruushe dissolved into the darkness of deep sleep, the howl of the storm still echoing in his head.

Bruushe awakened to find the storm over. Pale morning light filtered into his cave from the world outside. Once again Bruushe's stomach rumbled.

He poked his nose outside and sniffed. The land smelled fresh, scrubbed clean by the fury of the storm. Water dripped from the rocky overhang onto his back sending shivers down his tail. He stretched, preparing to launch himself into the air.

A sound from the mountain slope below attracted his attention. It was the sound of metal on stone, and the jangle of harness. Bruushe arched his neck and saw a human clad in armor on horseback, cautiously making his way up the narrow trail.

Fear gripped Bruushe's heart. Another human was coming to steal his treasure. Why couldn't they leave him in peace?

Bruushe retreated into his lair and took up a defensive position a few yards back from the cave mouth. There he sat, waiting for the human to arrive.

A few minutes later the human arrived and dismounted, drawing his sword. He warily approached the cave, the sword's edge glinting in the sunlight. He saw the shadowed form of Bruushe in the cave and stopped, waiting.

Bruushe growled and arched his back, raising the spines that were more ornament than defense.

The human began advancing again, his sword at the ready. He paused again when he entered the cave, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. Bruushe heard the human gasp when he could discern the piles of treasure that lay beyond the ancient creature.

Bruushe struck. Drawing in a swift breath, he spewed flame on his enemy. The fire crackled with glee at its release. Smoke filled the air, stinging Bruushe's eyes and blotting out his vision.

When the fiery breath ended, Bruushe waited as the smoke cleared. The human had been knocked to the cave floor by the force of the blast, but he was already rising, his armor blackened with soot.

Bruushe started in alarm. Most opponents he had faced wouldn't survive the initial blast. He readied himself for another.

No fire emerged from his jaws. His inner furnace had weakened, cooling down over the years and leaving little more than embers.

The human advance, raising his sword. Bruushe attacked with claws and teeth, shattering them on the cold steel of the armor. The glittering sword lashed out and Bruushe felt a burning along one shoulder. He roared in pain.

He retreated towards the pool at the back of his lair. The human followed his sword now glinting red.

Bruushe stoked his inner furnace in a final, desperate attempt at life. The flame flowed from him like a living thing. It swarmed hungrily over the human, wrapping around him like the tentacles of a kraken around the hull of a doomed ship.

The human rode down the path towards the village, his armor stained with blood and soot. A bulging sack hung on one side of his saddle, and the dragon's head hung on the other. The villagers, gathered at the foot of the mountain trail, saw him returning and swarmed around him, cheering.

Back in the cave, Bruushe's headless corpse lay next to his pool. Blood flowed from the stump of his neck, staining the floor and dirtying the waters forever.

Back to Top