In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In the Lair of the Draca (Boook 2) Chapter 75: One

"Is she alive? ...Please, Moons, tell me she is alive!"

Disha's concerned voice, though honey-sweet, was like a pesky fly in Duscha's ear. Irritated, Duscha snapped at her younger Sister-- a variation of the universal 'stand down' command that was common amongst all the draga--  as the three of them snaked forth from their respectful hiding places in the bolberry shrubs.

Fanning out to the east and west of Ziuta's now-dilapidated lodge, Deema and Disha extended anxious snouts into the freshness of that morning's spring air, which only recently had begun to dull with the slow advent of autumn. Duscha was left behind to belly-crawl through the grass and bulrush plants until her claws rested inches away from the trap which had been dug. Within the trap (which, at ten feet deep and nearly twenty feet in length, had been completed at the peak of night by all three Sisters) frothed and foamed the Star-Child's unlikely consort: the sharp-eyed Brindle, whose three-spiked tail scourged at the air in fury at the misfortune which had allowed him to have been caught.

Stoically triumphant at the new status which lowered Brindle before her, Duscha dipped her nose into the trap and lifted her upper lip, allowing a deep, baritone rumble to pour from her throat. Brindle could reciprocate, but he could not lash out, and for that he hated the carelessness with which he had backed out of Ziuta's lodge instead of allowing his nose to lead the way. Backwards he'd slipped into the yawning hole, the bottom of which had been lined with thorn-studded boughs thicker than a man's thigh; his paws and underbelly were stabbed and scraped mercilessly by these nettles as he paced the length of his earthen prison. Brindle brayed, bellowed, and bawled until his throat became raw, but he was neither a good jumper nor a decent climber (with nettles spearing the sensitive pads of his paws). Without wings to carry him out of his confinement, the most Brindle could do was paw at the slopes of the trap on his haunches, lancing Duscha with wild eyes that were infected with venom. His member thin and shrivelled now that his seed was spent, Brindle no longer exuded the same testosterone-fueled, maniacal strength that had given him the upper hand in his previous skirmishes with Water Fly and Daara. Duscha could peer down at him and view all Earth dragons as what they were: wiry, hard-muscled fiends frustrated at their dwindling place in the world.

"It's over, Brindle," Duscha whispered, with feigned camaraderie. Her voice was so fragrant that even her arch-enemy had to stop his yowling momentarily and lift his ear toward the sound. "No longer can you own her; no longer can you possess her. Ziuta is changed! She is Other. She is Different...and soon, she will be One."

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"Am I alive? ...Please, Moons, tell me I am alive!"  Ziuta sat up and shielded her eyes from the brightness of the Earth-Star, which spilled brilliant rays from around its orb like liquid gold. She recognized in an instant where she was: she was sitting in a lush, verdant meadow of the Jeweled Planet, surrounded by the chir-chir-chirring of locusts and delicate, five-petaled flowers with creamy hues of blue and rose. Immediately, she knew that she must either be dreaming or having some sort of vision, and she could not recall the incident with Brindle at all.

Aye...you are dreaming.

Thrilled at the promise of a familiar friend, Ziuta looked toward the voice and watched in awe as Duscha, magnificent wings outstretched like a raptor's, spiraled toward the Earth and alighted beside her on a mid-sized boulder. A gentle back-breeze from those grand wings blew Ziuta backwards from her knees onto her rump and delicately teased the ends of her ruby-red tangles-- like a kiss blown from Ah-mah to her.