A Dragon's Retribution [Book 3 in Rising Dragons]

Chapter 9: Seeryath III

Blindness as a disability is presented; unlikely to be an accurate description of what it is like to be blind

"Take the day off," Natalia commanded. "You've been working nonstop ever since you arrived, always pushing yourself further and further. You need to rest."

I narrowed my eyes, "Alvah isn't resting."

"Take the day off," Natalia reiterated before walking off.

I kept my frustrated muttering to myself, and headed towards the one place I hadn't seen anyone else. I didn't want to be bothered if it wasn't going to help me. Everything had started off so well too, I had been working and been pushed and pushed myself. I had trained through fighting others and working one-on-one with Natalia, the only other dragon with telepathy. Yesterday, in fact, I had gone hunting with Natalia and forced a creature to stand still – I had learnt some new traditions about the wild dragons. They would only hunt if they were hungry since they knew that life, and by extension nature, only supplies what is necessary and not an overabundance.

Laying down on the ledge that overlooked much of the land where the hidden dragons lived, I flicked my tail in irritation. I didn't want to take a day off. Still, it was easy, there in the sun, to close my eyes and doze. It wasn't sleeping, as I was partially aware of what was around me, but it was still easy to lose track of time, knowing only the warmth of the stone and the heat of the sun.

Nonetheless, I woke up properly when another dragon laid down next to me. Frustration built as the other dragon asked, "Is it a nice view?"

"Can't you see for yourself?" I snapped back, still angry at being forced to not work. How did they not understand? Sky had died for this. I shouldn't be lazing around. I should be doing something.

The other dragon laughed, despite my tone. "No, dearie," he said all sympathetic and pitying and I wanted to snap at him. "I'm blind, can't you see?"

In under a second, my frustration and anger dispersed, leaving me feeling very small. "I'm sorry," I said, hunching in on myself.

The blind dragon laughed my apology off. "It's fine," he said. "I've dealt with hatchlings before. Besides, I hadn't been fine with it once, but I'm better now."

I swallowed, but the dragon seemed happy to talk about his disability, had made his peace with it perhaps. "How do you get around?" I asked quietly, before adding, "You don't have to answer."

"I don't mind your questions," was the response I received. "I simply know where things are. It means when things move life becomes considerably harder, but otherwise I get around fine. Now, if you have the time and the patience, would you mind explaining something to me?"

I shifted, "Not at all. I have time right now." Too much time, I added in my head, but there was nothing I could do about it.

"Describe the colour red," he told me, and I paused, wildly searching out for words. How was I meant to explain a colour without explaining mentioning other colours or the colour itself?

"It's..." I trailed off, thinking. "Red is... it can be so many different things. The different shades... they mean different things. The darker shades, cooler ones, they're, well, duller I suppose. They're faded. It's looking back at how you felt once all your passion has left you. It's reflecting and understanding what went wrong."

"What about brighter shades?"

"They stand out. They refuse to be ignored, loud, when they're not amongst similar colours like yellow and orange. It's passion – fury, anger, but it can also be desperation, the warmth of a fire. It's love, harsh and overwhelming but still wondrous and beautiful. I... I know I keep coming back to this idea of passion, but that's how I see it. It's all about passion. It's racing forward and struggling. It's blood and pain, sharp, fiery pain, but it's continuing. It's surviving and living even while you struggle. It's danger but danger isn't always dangerous."