#251 in Short Stories
Every dragon has a story, but not every dragon has a voice. So, for historians; like myself, to tell a dragon's story we must look for their voice; essentially their Rider.
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This is told from the Rider's point of view...
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That's his happy face.
Read at the risk of hating humans:
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Dragon Lord Flame, second son of Lady Red
Dragon Island
Flame stared out over the angry waters. Dark clouds had rolled in from the east and gathered together above the swelling waves of Vision Ocean. It was a harsh storm like that, with its sixty mile-per-hour winds and roaring thunder, that Flame wished there were more like him on Dragon Island. But alas it was only him, and so he flared his wings and without any lift off, the wind picked him up from the cliff's face. He dived like a seagull on the hunt and flared out before submerging into the rising waves. He stayed low, rolling with the water and never stopping his search.
In storms like those, Flame could never be too careful in his flight. Even if this particular thunder cloud wasn't as black as some he'd seen, Flame always left his perch to watch for stranded ships and overthrown sailors. He'd even saved a few horses and cows once (the sheep hadn't made it back to the ship; he was a dragon after all). He'd become acquaintances with most of the men that dared these waters, and many carried extra lambs and sometimes pigs for him as payment whenever they needed his assistance.
But then there were sailors that feared him. Like Vin'gel Carton; a fisherman who had had a bad dealing with Flame's cousin, Demise. Even after Demise's death, Carton didn't let up on his hate of the winged drakes.
And that night proved his harsh loathing was in full swing.
The fishing net strung from the starboard side of the fishing boat was dragging something large, and Flame watched with disgusted interest as Carton fought to get to shore and spear his catch. Flame couldn't tell what the large creature was, but he found himself unable to look away as Carton sailed to an uncharted island of Fantasy.
His cargo began to run aground long before the ship, but that didn't stop Carton from making his men row them more inland.
They were nearly a mile from shore when Flame was given the first real look at the caught creature, and what he saw made him freeze with rage.
Water pealed back, even the angry waves couldn't crest the hulking frame of the creature as it was dragged closer to the beach. Scales leaked sand mixed with green blood, and labored breaths and snorts of salt water were the only tell that the creature was alive. A broken wing escaped the thick net, and the other lay crushed underneath its own weight.
It was a dragon.
It was a gunmetal blue dragon.
It was a gunmetal blue, female dragon.
Flame's rage tripled, and what happened next he felt no pity for.
Tucking his wings and flaring his tail, Flame dove like a fire-breathing torpedo toward the struggling boat with its unsuspecting sailors. Vin'gel Carton was right to fear dragons, he was right to hate them, because when provoked; they became an unbeatable enemy.
