Heir of the Dragon

Darkness

I started from a dead slumber, and sat up abruptly on the thick black rug that served as my bed. Ayron had reclaimed the cot after he had pronounced me healed from my more serious wounds.  

My back ached, soar from the weeks I had spent nearly living astride Vierra. We had indeed become the best of both friends and partners in crime. Hunting with her warm mass of muscle beneath me had become second nature, as had directing her with my mysteriously powerful inner will. 

That first day in the woods had all but been crowded out by the many pieces of knowledge Ayron had been spouting at any open moment; eatable plants, poison plants, medicine formulas, species of snake and rodent, paths of larger creatures, how to hold a bow to make the shot as quiet as possible, how to craft an arrow and what plant is best for it; the list was endless.  

I arched my back and rolled my shoulders in a half-hearted attempt to ease the soreness. The night was a frigid, inky black, and the moon was eerily absent from the sky. 

A noise from the outside darkness had awoken me. 

I rose slowly, sparing my aching limbs, and grabbed my bow from where it sat on the table. It was a habit now. I couldn’t go anywhere without it. Slinging my quiver around me, I unhooked the torch that hung on the wall and ducked through the door. 

The cold dirt stung my bare feet as I stepped into the night. The absence of the moon left me terribly under-equipped to protect myself, and if I hadn’t been half asleep it would have frustrated me to no end. I shuffled blindly across the clearing, scanning my surroundings the best I could for something to explain the noise that had yanked me to consciousness. Pausing a few steps from the beginning of the trail that lead into the woods, I listened to the busy sounds of the night and let the air clear my senses.  

Something made me freeze. 

A smell I had come to recognize instantly these past weeks burned in my throat. Blood. 

Breaking my feet free from where they had suddenly become rooted, I took slow side steps moving the torch to light the soupy black clearing.  

My foot slid into something slumped over the Earth in a warm heap. A flicker of light from the torch threw red and green light off the mound of dark brown fur. 

An electrifying pulse ran up my back. 

I couldn't move.

"Ayron!" I half screamed, half choked. He was at my side in less time than it took to force myself to breathe again.

"Phelan," he hissed through clenched teeth. I heard him strike a fire behind me. In moments the light was flooding through the clearing illuminating the horrifying scene before me. The wolf lay on his side in a pool of steaming crimson. There was a huge gash ripped across his chest deep enough to see bone. I dropped the torch and clenched my hand over my mouth and nose. My feet were moving on their own accord. I got two steps under me and fell to my knees.  

Ayron was kneeling by the massive wolf’s head, his hands suspended in the air just inches above it’s body. I could see that whatever had happened to him, Phelan had fought fought back. His face was covered in blood and black fur that didn’t belong to him. As I watched in utter horror, the middle of his wound began to turn black. The color ran like an infection and filled the wound then run under his skin, spreading to his other open wounds. 

What was this?  

Tears ran down my face as I locked my eyes on Phelan's blue ones. I had to struggle to keep conscious as they too went a deep, hollow black. Ayron reached out to close them, but not before inky tears spilled over his lower lids and slithered down his face.