The she-wyvern of the Seehal

Bewildered, I wished to understand what she was telling, but the situation didn't even allow me to try to consult my book. Although I lowered the bow, I was still wary, unsure about what the change meant, however a little relieved to cease the fight. I couldn't even know whether I caused her a fatal injury, maybe piercing the lungs, however in my hopelessly drained state after the days of terrorizing, it was beyond my capabilities to care about seeing her agony no matter how pitiful she might have looked like.

She curled up again, trying to treat her wounds, as I could see licking, removing the salt easing the pain. Some blood stained her breast, forming small puddles on the ground, but her breath remained steady, not like struggling for her life.

Realizing this was probably a chance for me to silently slink away at least hoping she would stay and won't bother anymore, I moved on to get around her by a wide arch. However, as soon as I started, she rolled on her chest to stare me down agitated! It wasn't an enraged expression, but still alarming, detaining, and I felt too weak to counter with my bow. I stopped. It was clear by now that the injuries I caused were minuscule at least as for then, leaving her perfectly capable to lunge and tear me apart no matter if I defended myself or not. I knew I could probably kill her by a fatal shot slowly depriving her of air, but I would be dead sooner.

The Sun traveled a good deal up, and we just sat there, still the same spots about eighty yards away. She continued to lick her wounds curled up, but whenever I attempted to move, she sprung to halt me. I was tired, my numb mind barely forming thoughts, mostly wild about the dreaded prospect of being eaten, however somewhat lulled by the apparent armistice. There was nothing I could do, eventually I was to fall asleep and be done with it. I could no longer fight, maybe not only for my weariness, but also for the sight of her gestures, the thought that she talked, maybe a faint sense of hope, a hope she probably didn't want to destroy me after all.

"Follow". After she walked around me keeping distance, looking back over her shoulder she gestured. I recognized it, the same simple signal wilds were described to be using in the air by the linguistic book, directional commands, clear enough so I could remember. I didn't object. Leading the way so she marched me back to the last well by noon, cautiously keeping distance, occasionally snarling back if she felt I was too close, repeating the "follow" signal when too far.

"Stay". I could make out this much as she repeated, then once again. Finally, she gestured something like "Stay. Me take-off", the latter using the language of the wilds, with low head and flat ridge, and leaped for the air. For a short while she soared, gliding in circles, then straightened to fly off westwards, the effect of my morning arrows apparently all worn off by then.

I could barely believe I was taken prisoner by a damn wyvern! I shouldn't have stopped firing at her then! However, I could neither concentrate. For a while I staggered north until finding a group of acacias, one of which I somehow climbed to make my resting place on its branches.

Darkness greeted me when I awoke, with a slight tint of morning blue on the East after a long, dreamless sleep. Slowly, recollecting the past days' events I brought myself to my feet, preparing to continue, waiting for the world to brighten up just enough so I could venture upon descending, to march further.

Soon I had to realize I wasn't alone. To my horror, a brown mound discerned about three hundred yards away, the brown scaly mound of a coiled wyvern, who just raised her head to watch my movements! I almost fainted boggled by her frightful presence, just managing to strengthen myself to get down, prepared to fire!

She, however, remained calm, just observing with a neutral expression, laying curled up northeast of me, right on my way if I wanted to continue further towards Drino. Nothing happened for a while, we watched each other, I was weary of fighting, another futile attempt shooting her into retreat, but couldn't figure out anything which could end this stalemate.

Finally, she heaved herself to stand, to slowly approach me with a complexion I could only interpret as sad, alarming me, but stopping at about a hundred yards away. She gestured something, repeating and repeating again, drooping. Then, all of sudden, she sprung to let out a hasty "follow", and started to march west for a few paces, waiting.

I hesitated. I should have been going north, and now here was this bizarre situation with this strange wyvern attempting to call me away. Her ridge raised showing anger as she exclaimed the signal again, expressing she wouldn't tolerate my diversion. There was no choice but to obey her will.

It amazed me how she could keep on, walking on all four, the wing-arms and legs for hours, keeping check of me, making sure I followed. It passed me a few times when we marched through higher grass whether I could simply disappear, but dismissed it knowing she could also use her flight to find me. Sure I could fight her, but the chances were grim, and my curiosity also held me from it. With this dedication I felt there was some other reason for her actions than simply killing me for food. Her sullen expressions kept returning, puzzling me.

We passed a large termite tower before noon which I remembered as a landmark, however soon she came to a halt under the shadows of a smaller group of acacias. With a queer contortion raising a wing, she scraped her neck with a leg, then again signalled me "Stay. Me take-off" before abruptly leaving.

I pondered whether I could try to escape again, but dismissed knowing that I wouldn't likely be able to leave her probable territory. It was dangerous either way. Besides, my food supply was dwindling, necessitating a hunt. So I rather climbed up one of the trees to see what this region had to offer. Further west I was glad to spot a water hole likely having both animals and some fruit to gather, so only with sufficient equipment I set off.

The area was good for stalking, so by late afternoon I succeed in getting a modest gazelle, a bit large for my necessities, but I had ill luck with hare. I got back to the acacias before dusk, the wyvern nowhere to be seen, so I started a fire to make a dinner out of my acquisition, a decent fresh roast at last using some of the spices I had packaged.

However, I couldn't get to enjoy it. Just when I thought it done, with a rustling swoop-down she arrived, startling me fearing of conflict. She rather stayed where she landed, some distance away, and again I noticed her contorting herself to scratch under her ridge. Then she just crouched down, neck extended forth, with occasional long tongue flicks, but otherwise didn't move.

I tried to calm down, ignoring her to finish preparing my meal on the fire, an awkward situation. Suddenly in terror I realized she could be hungry with me blatantly agitating her! Struck by this possibility I heaved the remnants of the gazelle which were the major share of it, and advanced her until I could without raising her objections. I carefully set it down, then slowly backed away to return to my roast.

As I returned, she cautiously advanced to my offer, but apart from a few tongue flicks she didn't pay much attention, just settling by it, continuing to look at me as I spread my dinner on my metal platter to let it cool off a bit. Her anticipating gaze perplexed me so much I simply couldn't get to eat, just hoping she didn't suddenly came to have a sudden insatiable appetite for human flesh.

Finally, despite the conditions, I forced myself to start my meal. However just as soon as I got the first bite, she started to lash out her tongue wild, barely restraining herself from jumping! I suddenly understood, the smell of my roast was stirring her so much! By this sudden impulse, the decision formed, the hope raised that I could probably make some connection with her. So I picked up my platter, and slowly started to advance.

My motions had their effect calling her to her feet, to advance cautiously anticipating with taut neck, tasting the air frequently. Closing on her I noticed her belly hanging low, clearly as a result of a successful hunt in the afternoon. No wonder she didn't need that meat, however it astonished me how she came to be interested in my dinner.

She became reluctant getting nearer than a few dozen feet to me, so I stopped just holding my hands with the still warm platter out far, waiting for her to advance. I was determined to meet her this way, to get her come if she so much wanted my dinner.

She didn't. After a while unable to decide, she suddenly turned to a hasty retreat, back to where she landed, coiling up. Disappointed, I started walking back to my diminishing fire, then with a sudden change of mind, I rather set my platter down by the gazelle before cleaning up and climbing a tree to rather have some shoddy dinner from my remaining supplies.

At morning I found myself alone, with just my empty platter glimmering in the rays of the rising sun. The kill of the day before disappeared too without any trace, not even bones, only her paws marking the ground. If I wanted meat, I had to prepare for another hunt.

Just as I got my gear together, she returned flying low, descending farther away, but didn't pay much attention even as I was leaving. This time, after cautiously evading a bunch of elephants marching for a drink, I managed to shoot a hare, and could return with it by noon. She was still there, resting sprawled out on her back, just raising her head for my arrival.

I could roast the rabbit without much trouble, then, noticing her stirring again for the smell, I set away a portion of it which I served her on the same platter where the gazelle was the day before. After I returned to extinguish my fire, she followed, and with eager tongue flicks, slowly, piece by piece, laboriously tasting, ate my offer.

Then, after again performing that curious contortion to scratch her ridge, she set down on her chest, gesturing towards me. She waited, then again, and a short while after, again, her head drooping until resting on the ground with a sullen expression.

I consulted my book on Draconic for it for a long while until I managed to translate it as "Me myself", another while until I could refine it as the more meaningful "Me alone". It fitted her expression, but I wondered what it meant. How she could be alone here with all the wild wyverns of the region? Was she exiled from them? I didn't think that reasonable having her this near to a water hole with lots of animals to prey upon, certainly a good territory. Or was she special in some manner? Maybe... Then all of sudden it snapped in: Maybe she was alone with the knowledge of Draconic.

Frantic I dove deep in the book to find something which could help to make some connection, to tell her she was not alone. Soon I found out how to gesture "Me friend", however to my dismay, the "friend" symbol wasn't appropriate my case. Reading further I could learn that between man and dragon, this refers to a very intimate relationship, almost like mates, and that it was quite impolite to say it without the other party's consent. But then what I could tell to reassure her?

The intricate web of dragon customs seeping through the apparently simple sign language described in fragments by the book bogged me down until almost nightfall when I found the probable solution for this hidden elaborate knot. One could say "You friend" to offer friendship implying that he accepts the other party treating him as such, and may be rewarded with him replying "You friend" as well. This, however, seemed to require an already very strong relationship. There was another statement though, translating "Me trust", meaning trusting the other party having good intentions, his faith, an invitation for good will.

With this knowledge, I approached her as soon as I felt appropriate, however I couldn't get much of a response. She pulled her head back, still keeping a body length's of distance, to my repeat, I felt her exclaiming as she gestured with erect ridge, with a more bewildered expression than furious, but I couldn't make it out, and only got lost in the book trying to interpret it from memory.

This went on for a few days. I kept finding her exclaiming her loneliness, and I even composed a response of "You not alone. Me trust", but it didn't seem to help a lot. She however kept behaving calm, not wanting to really do anything about me expect not letting me back to the road as I found out once I tried. She discovered my attempt, and gently but firmly, commanded me back under the acacias. Curiously I found her understanding my relation with my equipment: if I had my things on the tree, she didn't care that much about my going around.

Even though I felt somewhat like a prisoner in a hardly convincing situation, her state made me curious, and while I definitely still didn't arrive to Drino while I already could have, after all, at least my warden was a dragon. Maybe if I turned back, I would already lie somewhere down in Ugaros with spilled guts if that war really started, dead for a dubious cause. I wasn't really sure about my current situation either, but with that other prospect I didn't mind that much. It even started to worry me how she kept scraping at her ridge, bringing back memories of Messenger, the bizarre man of my childhood telling me they can't really access there.

She however didn't let me any near her like him, to ease her with some good massaging, still insisting to keep a body's length between us while sadly exclaiming how lonely she was.

Maybe the fourth day, after she returned from a hunt gorging herself heavy, making it almost comedic how she expressed her solitude again with her sorrowful gestures, some terrible rush of itching engulfed her, forcing to contort herself, trying to ease it by scraping at her ridge with a leg for a while until exhausted she fell down, muscles still twitching visibly under the skin of the neck as she tried to align her head in agony to get it more bearable.

I advanced slow, hoping I could help her, gesturing "You not alone. Me trust". She just kept looking at me meekly, occasionally jolting, more from the itching than by reluctance until I got to crouch down before her muzzle. I expressed "Me trust" again before cautiously reaching out with my right hand, to gently set my palm on the upper jaw, below the nostril, to stroke the line of her mouth. It was an insane idea, to put my hand voluntarily almost in her most potent weapon hoping she would understand the degree of my trust, but I had faith in her strange intentions, which was proven right.

Se laid still apart from the occasional twitch from then as I cautiously continued crouched, next to her head, out of her field of vision, never removing my palm from her skin until I could turn to tuck my fingers under the ornaments of the head.

I almost yelled out in horror. Filth was a serious understatement to describe that ugly grime my fingers got entangled in there! I believed the dragons were all clean and tidy by Messenger's example, only then realizing in astonishment that he was likely kept that way by attentive laborious care in Drino! I almost forgot about her very real presence looking in disgust at the various pieces of discernible moult embedded in the gunk stuck on my hands!

However, I hadn't been working in the stables of Arne to get so easily scared by a little of dirt. After my first abashment I realized that the grime was most likely simply damp silt, strange as it was, the probable explanation being her taking a bath in the water hole. So I continued, gently massaging her as one by one I spooned out the oozy residue from under the spikes, which, still twitching occasionally, she apparently appreciated.

Then as I reached nearer the shoulder, suddenly she jolted, turning her head sideways to get a frowned look on me with an eye. I kept stroking her neck to comfort her, feeling occasional trembles of the tense muscles until, after shifting her body slightly by the arms, she came to rest again. I returned to the ridge with caution, pulling off the fragments of grass and worn scales entangled in wet dirt with very gentle movements to uncover a hideous fist-sized swollen gash deep under a spike.

This was quite unsettling. I cleaned up the rest the best I could then, however truly that very ill located injury was stirring her. I tried to keep comforting her until she calmed down with a yielding expression, occasional twitches still visible under her skin.

I had suitable medical equipment in my package, most importantly alcohol for cleaning and disinfecting wounds proper, but first I would have had to reassure the still reluctant wyvern that I was doing her good. I was baffled by this task, unsure whether I should approach it like handling an animal spelling out disaster or like an intelligent reasonable being.

My hopes went in the linguistic book once again, which, probably thanks to its age, just a decade older than the last war, turned out to have a good section on military related concepts including the medical treatment of wounded dragons. I learned how to form a simple question rolling back to the grammars, to understand the example asking the dragon where he was hurt, translating as "Do you ache?", to which normally he would reply like "Me ache right shin" or point at the problematic area. I couldn't entirely understand the grammar of questioning, describing some "query symbol" which was usually conveniently translated to "do" to form a more natural result.

Then there was the distinction between the verbs "pain" and "maul", the latter referring to the action of causing physical pain to someone, with a notion that the gesture translating as "hurt" is used for mental pain. The verb "pain" was however again used for causing physical pain, but with the intention of helping. By example a medic would prepare the dragon telling "Me pain you" before attending a wound, and he would also indicate the expected severity of the pain by superimposing an appropriate adjective. The book emphasized that as always, dragons must be handled with utmost honesty, so that a severe pain must be communicated as severe even if in the end it demands calling for another dragon to help holding the patient down.

The evening, confident in my ability to communicate, I prepared for attempting to remedy her situation, hoping she would tolerate. I built a fire to boil water, also disinfecting a ragged piece of cloth to have something to clean the wound before applying alcohol. Then I approached her which she accepted since the first occasion the day before.

"Do you itch?" I asked. She sat to contort herself, reaching with her left leg to her ridge, the spot where the gash laid under the spike, without scratching at it, then returned. "Me help. Follow". A little startled, but she followed me to my fire where the water put aside was already cooling off by the bottle of alcohol.

For a few moments she attentively observed those few utilities I had, then before I could signal, she asked with a slightly raised ridge "Do you pain me?". I looked at her bewildered, something I didn't expect, and I neither had any idea what she exactly meant and how I should respond properly. Finally, mustering some confidence I gestured "Me pain you. Me trust".

I was amazed to see her cooperation as she laid down promptly to her chest, head resting on the ground ahead of me, letting me slip out of her vision, then raising the spikes in apparent anticipation. I prepared, and saw her muscles twitching even before I approached, but she kept still as I progressed through cleaning the wound, jolting occasionally, but restraining herself with an admirable determination, making me feel rather performing the duty of a doctor than a veterinary.

When finished, I continued with the warm water to thoroughly clean her ridge which I saw her finally enjoying much, the first time I felt I made a connection.

Next evening when I again prepared for attending her, she came just when the water was put aside for cooling, gesturing "You pain me" before dropping down to her chest, offering herself for my medical attention. This puzzled me even more, how she seemingly understood the course of her care at least from her point, that her injury needs attention until healing up well.

Sometimes she would attempt to communicate with me, but I could barely make her gestures out with my miserable progress with the language, and maybe even for the age of my book. It saddened me to see her occasionally still exclaiming how lonely she was which I felt I was coming to understand.

Maybe a week later when her wound's swell abated to leave a properly healing scar, she came as usual, but gestured something different, ending with "Me trust". It startled me, leaving me unsure whether I understood well, neither certain on whether I could ask or even if it was appropriate, but still, I finally did, composing the sequence "Do you trust?". She replied with slightly raised ridge, "Me trust".

I felt a border crumbling apart that day. More than a month before, I set out to see the world, to reach Drino to meet dragons. As I marched forth, without my knowledge maybe everything collapsed behind, who knows who was at war with whom by now. I got stranded in the Seehal, feeling my death upon myself, then of all things, I gain her trust. After all, I felt I still reached somewhere, here, with a dragon. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to continue into Drino at all anymore.