Ranger's Roundhouse

[Ranger of the North]

This was written for school too, and I'm really proud of it Here are the pictures, and I hope you enjoy!! Drawings don't belong to me, and title-suggestions would be very, very welcome :3

Gareth

xxxxxGareth strode forward down the corridor with all the confidence he could muster. King Merari had summoned him yet again — and again, the poor messenger had looked pale and terrified. The king’s rages were becoming more and more perilous, but what could a simple knight do? Merari held all the power.
xxxxx“GAAAAAAREEEEEETH!” A shrill, nerve-grinding shriek ripped through the air as he neared the king’s chambers
xxxxxHurriedly, the knight broke into a run. He was disgusted with Merari’s overbearing, entitled manner, and the way he treated subordinates — which wasn’t a healthy view to hold — but being assigned errands was his only chance of reprieve.
xxxxx“I’m here, my king!” he bellowed, shouldering past the door. It flew back against the wall with a dull thud, and Gareth winced; his emotions were getting ahead of him. Being the polite knight he was, however, he managed to stem the flow of words in his mind.
xxxxxThe king, hair and robes in wild disarray, glanced up from the scroll clenched in a quivering fist. His face was dark with fury.
xxxxx“Gareth,” he growled, “my favourite castle has been destroyed by a dragon, and —”
xxxxx“No!” Gareth lunged forward before he could stop himself, and ground to a halt before the throne. “What about the people? Did — did they escape?” His voice trembled, and he gripped the hilt of his sword like a lifeline; squeezed hard, so hard it hurt, and tried desperately to breathe. Blood welled like scarlet raindrops from his white knuckles. “Are they alive, my king? Is Hazel —”
xxxxx“Yes, yes, they should be fine.” Merari waved a hand dismissively. “But you seem to be missing the point, Sir Gareth. My castle — my Favourite Castle, you understand — is naught but a pile of smouldering rubble!”
xxxxxHe paused, and Gareth could no longer hold his gaze.
xxxxx“Breathe in. Breathe out. Count to ten — and at least try to speak respectfully.” The wise words of his old mum echoed in his mind, and Gareth took a shuddery breath. He gathered the broken, worried pieces of himself, hugged them close, and trusted.
xxxxxMerari didn’t seem overly concerned about his people at the moment, but Gareth knew he must care — he had cared enough to inquire after their well-being. He had cared enough to summon Gareth. He had to care.
xxxxxA good knight would trust his king — Gareth would to trust his king.
xxxxx“A tragedy,” he managed finally, hoping — trusting — it wasn’t so, and Merari scowled.
xxxxx“Indeed it is,” he agreed darkly, “and the beast must be taught a lesson — which is why I’m sending you, my favourite knight. I know you can teach him a lesson.” He sat back in his throne, a smug grin passing over his face as the knight swallowed his pride, lowered his head, and nodded humbly.
xxxxx“Begone, then.”
xxxxxGareth spun on his heel and fled from the room with all his remaining dignity.

xx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxx

xxxxxWith his heart choking his throat, Gareth dove like an athlete, and rolled as he hit the ground. The fall sent him tumbling uncontrollably down the hillside, and out of range of groping dragon-fire.
xxxxxClimbing to his feet, the knight staggered dizzily for the nearest rocky-outcropping; fear and fury rose like bile from his stomach. He had to find shelter. Had to run, hide, fly. Had to survive.
xxxxxThe dragon was coming.
xxxxxWith a terrible, ear-splitting roar, the mighty beast leapt from its hilltop perch, and, spreading its vermillion wings, shot toward the knight’s hiding-place like the unholy arrow of doom.
xxxxxGareth took a deep, shuddering breath. He would die soon, he knew. But he would see his old mum — and Hazel — and baby Ainsley — (the dragon had killed them all) — so that wasn’t so bad. But if he had to die, he would fight to his last breath — and he would avenge the deaths of his family.
xxxxx‘They will not die for nothing, I will give it scars to remember, it will learn never to attack humans again, and I will die.’
xxxxxA strangled cry tore from the soul of his being, and a tear trickled down his cheek.
xxxxx‘They WILL NOT die for nothing, I will give it SCARS to remember, it will learn NEVER to attack humans again, and I will DIE.’ He repeated the chant in his mind; sung the mantra to his heart, and felt it in every fibre of his being.
xxxxxGareth turned to face the coming monster. He hardened himself; prepared himself; readied himself — but it’s hard to be strong when your heart is crying. Slowly, a second tear followed the first.
xxxxx‘They will not die for nothing — I will give it scars to remember — it will learn my face, my name, my sword — and I will die.’
xxxxxCold steel glittered wickedly in the afternoon sunlight.
xxxxx‘They will not die for nothing — I will give it scars to remember — it will learn my face, my name, my sword — and I will die.’
xxxxxWith an earth-shuddering thud, the mighty dragon landed once more.
xxxxx‘They will not die for nothing — I will give it scars to remember — it will learn my face, my name, my sword — and I will die.’
xxxxxGareth rose to his feet as if in a trance, eyes blind with tears. His heart throbbed like a drum in his chest.
xxxxx‘They will not die for nothing — it will learn my face, my name, my sword — I will die.’
xxxxx“Halt your sword, little warrior!” a deafening voice, old as the hills and strong as the largest tree, rumbling like a landslide, beat at his ears. “I have no wish to — I must —”
xxxxxA throbbing growl rent the air, and Gareth braced himself for the flames sure to come — his mind whirred like a sparrow’s wing.
xxxxx‘How does it speak? Why does it speak? How can this be? Am I mad? I must kill it! But why does it speak? How can this be?’
xxxxx“I do not enjoy this!” The thunderous roar sent Gareth to his knees, and he squeezed his sword-hilt with a death-grip. “I have no wish to eat your kind, knight — I hate it — I hate it!”
xxxxxGareth opened his eyes, terror sucking the air from his lungs. It didn’t make sense — couldn’t be true — didn’t add-up — couldn’t be proved!
xxxxx“You make me sick,” the dragon continued. “So slimy, and squirmy, and too salty, and crunchy-hard metal that gets stuck in my teeth, and you wriggle —” He broke off with a nauseated gag. “But — but I’m trapped.” His voice lowered to the smallest whisper, and Gareth could just barely make out the words, “I’m trapped, little warrior, and you’re the first to listen — I’m begging you, please, you have to help me! King Merari will only grow worse, and cause more deaths if you — don’t — help — me!”
xxxxxThe world tipped from its axis and spun out of control, flipping and twisting wildly as it plunged haphazardly through the cosmos. Gareth’s ears rung like they’d been punched. His breath came short and fast, and the world was a mess of greys and greens. He toppled forward, barely able to catch himself, and lay as if dead. It didn’t add-up — the awful words that echoed and reechoed incessantly in his mind couldn’t be true — couldn’t be true!
xxxxxBut they were there, and they refused to leave; refused to be silenced; refused to be stilled. It didn’t make sense, was the dragon lying? But he knew — oh, he knew all too well — the sound of honest desperation. It was undeniable.
xxxxx...had Merari orchestrated the deaths of his family?
xxxxxSuddenly numb, Gareth pushed himself to his feet and stepped out before the great dragon. He had entered the fight filled to the brim with grief, and rage, and terror — now he was empty, but the pain was rushing back, fast as a flooding river.

xx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxx

xxxxx“Prove it!” he screamed, ripping the helmet from his head. “Prove it, beast! But you can’t, can you? You can’t! because you’re lying!
xxxxx“It’s not true — please, it can’t be true.” He sank to his knees, lips trembling. He was hot and cold, full of pain yet numb, broken but the only one left — the only one whole. The helmet dropped like a deadweight from his nerveless fingers.
xxxxx“I know, I know — I know.” Creeping carefully across the hill, the dragon gingerly lay his great head beside the knight. “Your king,” he spat, and Gareth’s tears evaporated in a wave of heat, “did the same to me.”
xxxxxDespite his danger, Gareth felt nothing — nothing but pain.
xxxxx“For countless generations,” the beast continued, “dragons and knights have been at war with each other. But why?”
xxxxx“You murder, and pillage, and burn, and —”
xxxxxQuietly, the dragon said, “My people would say the same of you,” and Gareth fell silent. “Never has anyone, dragon, human, or otherwise, tried to learn the others’ language — except me, and it drove me apart from my kind. But it was well I did, for now I can tell you the truth:
xxxxx“For decades, Merari and his predecessors, who were more wicked by far than him, have been ensnaring knights and dragons in a brutal war for naught but their own amusement. When I was young and foolish, Merari’s men tracked me back to our cave, and slaughtered my mate. They were collecting her blood when I arrived, and our egg was nowhere in sight.
xxxxx“I slew them all, little warrior, but it was too late. Merari holds my child hostage. He told me that if I refused to cooperate, he would destroy my only offspring — and thus, I am forced to kill and destroy. You are yet another pawn, forced into the game by pain and hatred.”
xxxxxGareth’s heart sank like a black hole to the toes of his boots. “This has to stop,” he managed, lips taut and bloodless. “We have to stop him.”
xxxxx“I am glad you agree. Let us go. Climb upon my back, little warrior, and I will bear you away to the castle; together, we will end this tyrannous reign.”
xxxxx“No.”
xxxxxThe dragon reared back, and a plume of burnt-meat smoke swept over Gareth in a great, poisonous cloud. Sour bile rose from his stomach.
xxxxx“I won’t,” he continued. Not bravely, not stubbornly, not angrily — the words simply needed to be heard, and they spilled free like water from an overturned bucket. “Merari may have your egg held hostage, but what about my child? The child you killed? Did you ever stop to think that maybe you could give warning? Approach slowly? Give people — innocent people, dragon! — time to escape?”
xxxxxGareth paused for a moment, throat choked with words, words, anger, words, anger-filled-poisonous-words, and ground his teeth to calm the flow.
xxxxx“You were told to destroy a castle, and you murdered. I will not help you with another.” His voice rose and trembled like the quavering song of a dying bird, and his eyes burned hot with tears. “Kill Merari. Reclaim your egg. But leave the castle and inhabitants unharmed, or by the blood of my family, I will kill you.”
xxxxxThe dragon bowed his great head, and silence reigned for an eternity.
xxxxx“Agreed,” it growled eventually. “But if I fail, and Merari does not die, the blame will lie on you.”
xxxxx“Get you gone, coward.”
xxxxxWithout a word, the dragon leapt away, and the knight stood alone.
xxxxxHe was finished.
xxxxxPulling the armour from his body, Gareth dropped to his knees and sobbed for all he’d lost; wept for his shattered world; grieved for the innocents.
xxxxxGareth Painheart was never seen more.

[~Teya~]

oo I really like Aziz's story!! I don't have time to read Gareth's story rn but Aziz's was awesome ^.^

[Ranger of the North]

oo I really like Aziz's story!! I don't have time to read Gareth's story rn but Aziz's was awesome ^.^

Thank you so much!

[DeMaizu]

Noooooo Gaaaareeeeth TT_TT Whhyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

[Ranger of the North]

Noooooo Gaaaareeeeth TT_TT Whhyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

I'm glad it hurts you as much as it hurt me
my poor boy sum1 give him a hug

[DeMaizu]

*throws small carrots at you*
I feel so bad for the dragon, too. Did the dragon ever get a name? Also, screw the king. Just -- blegh. Screw him.

[Ranger of the North]

*throws small carrots at you*
I feel so bad for the dragon, too. Did the dragon ever get a name? Also, screw the king. Just -- blegh. Screw him.

*disappears with a shriek into the wilderness* Goodbyeeeeeeeeeee
Um. Nooo, I just kinda neglected him tbh XD *oops* And yes, Merari sucks. His name was originally actually King Whinge, but I thought that was a bit spoiler-y XD

[Ranger of the North]

More schoolwork! Still needs a title, but hasn't been (and may never be) edited.

Arthur

xxxxxIt was Christmastime in London, and the air thrummed with excited voices. Impatiently Arthur, the youngest son of Sir Ector and Lady Mabel, bounced on his toes to see above the ocean of heads.
xxxxx“Are we nearly there? Kay, are we nearly there?” He turned to his older brother expectantly, not seeing his parents in the crowd, and Kay grinned.
xxxxx“Nearly, little brother. Be patient.”
xxxxxDespite his brother’s admonishment, Arthur could not rest. “That’s easy for you to say, Kay,” he pointed out, straining on tiptoes once more. “You’re tall!”
xxxxxIt seemed as if the whole country had arrived for church! The ordinarily quiet courtyard rang with voices, and Arthur could barely move for fear of being trampled underfoot. The ground squelched underfoot, old and tired from the constant pressure of so many feet, but despite the nippy breeze, he was warm from head to toe. England had been without a king for many, many years, but Merlin the wizard had proclaimed that today, of all days, a means to find a new ruler would be provided. The world was alive with expectation.

xx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxx

xxxxxAs the Armstrong boys wove their way between the bustling bodies into the comforting embrace of the church, Arthur was struck with a sense of quiet wonder.
xxxxxRich mahogany stretched high above even the tallest man’s head as if grasping at the sky, and golden light streamed through the stained-glass windows. The faintest whisper echoed like the cry of a giant, and Arthur’s mind turned to the Bible: ‘For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open’.
xxxxx‘Is this how God knows all?’ he wondered.
xxxxxQuietly, they took their seats, and the priest took his place before the congregation.
xxxxxAs the sermon began, Arthur’s mind wandered back to Merlin’s revelation, and excitement crawled like a spider up his spine. He shifted impatiently on the uncomfortable wooden bench.
xxxxxSuddenly, a dazzling light streamed beneath the doors. Every face glowed. The sun seemed to dim, and Arthur frantically shielded his eyes.
xxxxxThen, as quickly as it had appeared, the light vanished.
xxxxxA stunned silence reigned throughout the building.
xxxxx“What was that?” Kay, whom nothing daunted, asked suddenly, and the world abruptly exploded in a flurry of noise. Arthur sat back on his bench, head pounding painfully. Snakes roiled in his gut, and he longed — yet dreaded — to investigate the source of the light. He didn’t dare move.
xxxxx“Come, Arthur!” A strong hand squeezed his knee, and Arthur jumped. “Let’s go see what it was!” Kay rose to his feet, and began weaving his way through the pews toward the door. Arthur felt a pang of envy for his brother’s courage, and hastily scrambled upright.
xxxxxOther church-goers seemed to have had the same idea, and there was quite a crowd before the door when Arthur at last managed to squeeze his way through the bodies. With a resounding boom, Kay shoved the doors aside and marched out into the courtyard, followed by a stream of people.
xxxxxArthur’s breath caught in his throat. A few metres before the door sat a gigantic block of solid stone, and, protruding from the tip, was a beautiful sword, glowing in the late-morning sunshine like a beacon.

WHOSO PULLETH THE SWORD OUT OF THIS STONE IS RIGHTWISE BORN KING OF ENGLAND

xxxxxArthur’s breath caught in his throat. “Kay!” he breathed, and the older grinned.
xxxxxWith barely a pause, Kay leapt atop the boulder and stood tall and proud, high above the heads of the crowd.
xxxxx“Did you read that inscription?”
xxxxx“Is he really going to try it?”
xxxxx“Oh my, I think he’s going to try it!”
xxxxx“Isn’t that Sir Ector and Lady Mabel’s son?”
xxxxx“He’s a good lad. Hope it works!”
xxxxxArthur heard the whispering of the people, and his heart swelled with pride. Kay would make the best king in the world, he knew it.
xxxxxThe crowd held its breath with Arthur as Kay wrapped his fingers in a firm grip around the sword-hilt. The young knight shot a smile at his audience, and a collective sigh ran through it, but Arthur knew the gesture was for him.
xxxxxAnd they groaned in bitter disappointment as he failed to pull it free.
xxxxxBitter disappointment flooded Arthur’s being, but he held his head high. Kay had as much right to the throne as anyone else. He would not be ashamed.
xxxxxHe watched as, with a rueful smile, Kay leapt from the stone and wove his way through the mass of bodies to his little brother’s side. Kay smiled, but shame and embarrassment swirled like a dark dragon in his eyes. Arthur gripped his shoulder comfortingly. There was nothing words could do.
xxxxxThey stood together, watching as knight after knight, farmer after farmer, boy and the occasional girl, scrambled atop the stone and tried — and failed — to pull the sword free.
xxxxx“It’s witchcraft!” someone in the crowd shouted angrily. “Does that bloody wizard take us for fools? It’s magic and trickery, not a path to the king!”
xxxxx“Shut your mouth, Gaspard,” another responded. “Merlin knows what he’s doing, and —”
xxxxx“He’s right, though! Merlin’s a —”
xxxxx“Don’t you say it!”
xxxxx“What are we going to do, Kay?” Arthur asked worriedly.
xxxxxGrim-faced, Kay pushed his way through to the front of the mob and roared for silence.
xxxxx“People of England, hear me! Merlin could very well be a jackass, but then again, he might be right. We wait! If what the wizard says is true, our king is not here. Go home! Tell everyone you know, everyone you see, to try the sword. If none succeed, we elect our own king. Now go!”
xxxxxSlowly, with a murmuring like that of the tide, the courtyard emptied.

xx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxxx.xxxx~xxx

xxxxx“Arthur! Arthur, have you seen my — Arthur!”
xxxxxArthur jumped in alarm as Kay tugged him from his musings, and whirled guiltily. “Yes? What’s wrong?” A twinge of alarm prickled uncomfortably in his gut. Around Arthur, at least, Kay never seemed perturbed by anything — but now his face was tight and urgent.
xxxxx“Have you seen my sword? Did I bring it? Did — do you have it? You brought it, right?”
xxxxxArthur’s heart dropped like a stone to the toes of his boots as he slowly shook his head. The family was on their way to Londontown’s annual New Year carnival, and without his sword, Kay was ineligible to participate in any of the mock-battles. He would be a laughing-stock throughout the country.
xxxxx“Please, Arthur, can you — I mean, do you think —” He paused, reluctant to ask anything of his younger brother.
xxxxxEagerly, knowing what his brother wanted, Arthur whirled on his heels and shot off into the crowd. He was more than willing to help.
xxxxxHe wasn’t going to make it, he realised suddenly. Their home was too far away; the tournaments would begin without Kay, and it would be his fault — Arthur’s fault, for being too slow.
xxxxxFor the first time in his life, he swore explosively.
xxxxxSudden inspiration struck him like a bolt of lightning. The sword in the stone! The churchyard was only a little way away; how hard could it be to pull a sword out of a rock? Arthur raced on, and in moments he had reached the church. Without pausing, he sprinted through the gateway and leapt with all his might, just barely managing to haul himself onto the stone.
xxxxxThe courtyard was barren and empty, devoid of people, which seemed wrong to Arthur. Apprehension roiled in his gut.
xxxxxTaking a deep breath, he seized the sword, and pulled with all his might. It shot free like an arrow from a bow, and Arthur nearly toppled over backward.
xxxxx“YES!” he cheered. The sword was beautiful. Gems gleamed like stars along the hilt and pommel, and the perfect blade gleamed in the light of the sun like beacon of hope. It was perfect for Kay.
xxxxxSlipping down from the stone, Arthur took to the streets once more, clutching his prize tightly.
xxxxxIt didn’t take Kay long to identify the blade. “Arthur! Where did you find that?” he demanded, striding forward, and Arthur skipped back in alarm. “Tell me, how did you get that?”
xxxxx“I — I just pulled it out. You need a sword, I found a sword. It — is that alright?” he asked anxiously.
xxxxxWithout acknowledging him, Kay turned on his heel and strode out onto the tournament field, motioning silently for Arthur to follow.
xxxxx“Arthur has pulled the sword from the churchyard stone,” he said quietly, and the crowd erupted in roars of disbelief.
xxxxxShouts and screams of, “LIAR!” ripped the air apart like ugly knives, and Arthur stepped back, surreptitiously hiding behind Kay’s broad back.
xxxxx“Prove it!” someone yelled suddenly, and slowly the mass of bodies took up the chant. Arthur was swept up on strong shoulders and carried above the heads of the crowd, back the churchyard — back to where the mess had begun.
xxxxxThe enormity of what he had just done was beginning to sink in, and the world drowned away in muddled colours and random calls. He was lifted up onto the stone by willing hands, and carefully, he pushed the sword back into the slit — back inside its rocky prison. And he stood, watching, as knight after knight, farmer after farmer, boy and the occasional girl, scrambled atop the stone and tried — and failed — to pull the sword free.
xxxxxThen he slid it out like a knife through cheese. The crowd stilled. Shock rippled through the air. One by one, they sank to their knees. Arthur was the new king of England.

[Ranger of the North]

More schoolwork, who woulda guessed? :p Who's looking forward to the holidays, am I right!? But at least it's not formal. For this one, I had to borrow a plot from a classic fairytale and redo it in medieval times~ Still unedited.

xxxxxOnce upon a time in a land of green, where trees danced, and oceans raged, rocks were bolder, and flowers brave, there was a mighty mountain. High up on the mountaintop was a deep, dark, dingy cave, and in that cave there lived a dragon. The dragon’s name was Māmā Tarākona.
xxxxxOver the months, because she knew that her eggs would soon come, she had constructed a snug nest of molten rock. Slowly and carefully, she had breathed a small plume of fiery heat at the rocky walls. As the melted rock slipped down to the stony floor, she flicked her scaly tongue out and molded it into a comfortable shape. The next day, she repeated the process — and the next — and the next, and the next, and the next, until the cave had shrunk considerably. Fortunately, she still fitted, so that was alright.
xxxxxWhen the nest was finally ready, she laid her first clutch of eggs. And then Māmā Tarākona waited. She waited and waited and waited for an entire year! Until, at last, the most delicate of spiderwebby cracks spread across her smallest egg. Māmā Tarākona was so excited she could barely control herself! Contenting herself with a joyous bugle, she settled down to watch the egg with narrowed eyes and bated breath.
xxxxxThe egg seemed agonisingly slow in hatching. Māmā Tarākona had to wait hours before her baby finally emerged!
xxxxxAnd then she reared back in alarm.
xxxxxWhere were his gorgeous, scintillating scales, that shone in the sun like stars from heaven? He was a dull, rough, mottled grey-green instead. Where were his powerful legs, stronger than trees, like great pillars to withstand his might girth? They were short and squat; buckled at the knee, so his stomach dragged low against the ground. But worst of all, where were his wings? Māmā Tarākona, who was now utterly horrified, strained her eyes their hardest, but to no avail. Her baby boy was ugly and wingless.

~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~

xxxxxKikino scuttled through the underbrush, quick as a whip. He was starving, and determined to capture the small mouse scuttling mere centimetres before his nose. His mother, Māmā Tarākona, would gladly have brought him a deer if he so wished, but Kikino preferred smaller prey — and tonight he would catch it himself. He would prove to the other hatchlings that his size and appearance didn’t matter. He could fend for himself. He wasn’t a burden. And he didn’t need wings.
xxxxxAbruptly, the mouse swerved to the right, and Kikino dashed to follow. Because he was so small, he hoped he could pursue the miniscule creature until it cornered itself. But it was not to be.
xxxxxWith a triumphant squeak, the mouse scuttled into a hole so tiny that it barely managed to squeeze through itself — Kikino didn’t have a chance.
xxxxxHe scrabbled desperately at the hole, a growl rumbling deep in his throat, while his tail lashed the air angrily.
xxxxx“Well, well, well.” The small dragon froze as a taunting laugh rang in the cool evening air. “What have we here? A scaly rat, failing to catch a mouse.” The earth shuddered beneath the weight of a dragon — the very dragon whom Kikino had hoped would keep away.
xxxxx“What do you want, Toma?” he snapped. The spines along his back rose in annoyance and mistrust.
xxxxx“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Toma waved his wing dismissively. “I was just wondering, what are you doing? You can’t hunt like that!” His face drooped in an expression of dismay. “You’re so small that everything will escape if you try and run at it. Find a tree and stay there, Kikino; keep out the way of the real hunters or you’ll starve. Let us do the work. You need wings and fire to hunt.”
xxxxxKikino lashed his tail angrily, and snapped his teeth. “I do not! Leave me be, Toma, I can do this!”
xxxxx“You can’t —”
xxxxx“I can! Māmā Tarākona believes me — for once in your life, leave the tribe’s opinions alone and start believing her.”
xxxxx“Your mother is a fool,” the dragon hissed, and inner-fire — something Kikino would never have — lit his scales like lava on a Winter’s night. “Do you think it’s coincidence that the only egg she hatched was a munted, broken, ugly, beast?”
xxxxxFor a moment, Kikino wondered if his core was ice. Surely frozen flames were now dancing like the fingers of death along his very bones. If he only opened his mouth, Toma would be devoured once and for all by the sheer weight of the torment and pain he inflicted again and again and again.
xxxxxBut it wasn’t. And he couldn’t. And it didn’t.
xxxxxKikino spun on his tail and ran, fleeing down the mountain with all the speed of a wingless wind. It was all he could do.
xxxxxHe hurtled down the mountain, twigs and branches lashing at his rough, ugly skin, and branding him even more harshly — the other dragons would never be injured so by mere plants. He ran, not caring where he ended up; not caring that at any second he might hurtle from the edge of a cliff. He almost welcomed the cold embrace of death.
xxxxxAs the ground levelled beneath his feet, a brisk wind washed through the trees, and Kikino came to a stop so suddenly that he nearly flipped head-over-heels into the bushes.
xxxxxThere was... a smell... Something he couldn’t put his claw on. He flicked his tongue out to taste the air, and turned hesitantly to face the odour.

~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~xxxxx~

xxxxxOnce upon a time in a land of green, where trees danced, and oceans raged, rocks were bolder, and flowers brave, there was a mighty mountain. Down at the foot of the mountain was a dark, shallow, sheltering cave, and in that cave there lived a tuatara. The tuatara’s name was Māmā Tuatara. Once, many years ago, she had laid a clutch of seven beautiful eggs. Because surviving was so difficult for tuatara, most mothers left their eggs behind, rather than endanger themselves or the unhatched babies, but Māmā Tuatara, who was young back then, had stayed to keep watch over her unhatched babies.
xxxxxOver the course of nearly a year, she had stayed and watched and hoped and waited, but it had all proved futile in the end.
xxxxxLate one night, when all was dark and quiet, Māmā Tuatara crept stealthily through the underbrush to her burrow. Only, it was empty. The filthy stench of rat hung in the air like a curse, and her eggs were gone. Not one remained.
xxxxxIn a rage, she had hunted the rat and eaten it, but even the shells of her children had been destroyed.
xxxxxNow, tonight, on the anniversary of her children’s deaths, an intruder lurked outside her burrow. There was a smell... Something she couldn’t place. Almost tuatara, but... not. And yet not anything else.
xxxxxTail flicking gently, she slipped from the burrow and out into the cool night air.
xxxxxA young male jumped when he saw her, spines flaring in alarm, and shock bright in his eyes.
xxxxx“You’re ugl — like me!” he gasped, and Māmā Tuatara snorted in amusement, examining him closely.
xxxxx“Of course. Did you expect me to be a dragon?”
xxxxx“Yes, actually.” His spines flattened as he tried to relax, then spiked back up almost immediately. “My name is Kikino. Who — what — are you? I didn’t think —”
xxxxx“We are tuatara,” she interrupted, shocked. “How could you not know this?”
xxxxx“All my life... I have been raised as a dragon... all my life.” Kikino backed into a bush, tail thrashing in alarm. His eyes were bright with pain. “All my life.”
xxxxx“A mighty ugly dragon you’d be.” Māmā Tuatara laughed into the night. Then she eyed him again. “But a striking tuatara.”
xxxxx“I am?”
xxxxxKikino’s eyes almost glowed, and her heart ached for the poor misplaced creature. The dragons were not in the least accepting of oddities, and they were too dull to realise tuatara — the ‘predecessors’, as they were called — still thrived on the land below. The hatchling would have been forced through hell. And when the mountain blew, and the next Rite of Fire ceremony came about... She shuddered to think of his fate.
xxxxx“Undoubtedly,” she affirmed with all the fierce warmth of reassurance. “And you’d be a fool to believe otherwise, young Kikino.” The young tuatara’s eyes glistened, and Māmā Tuatara crooned softly. “There, there.
xxxxx“Kikino — why don’t you stay with me?” The words popped out of their own accord, catching both tuatara by surprise, but she realised she meant them. She was lonely, and Kikino needed the company of his own kind. “I can show you the way of the tuatara — who you’re meant to be.”
xxxxx“But... But Māmā Tarākona. No, I can’t — I can’t. She raised me. She believed in me, she saw past my ugliness —”
xxxxx“She told you you were ugly?”
xxxxx“Well...” Kikino hung his head. “Yes.”
xxxxxMāmā Tuatara snarled. “It is not safe for you to live with them, Kikino — visit, maybe, but not live. Their heads are filled with gas, and their words have less control than fire. Visiting your māmā is healthy. Living with dragon-lies is not. Please.”
xxxxxKikino nodded, and she saw with relief that her words were clear. “You’re right, and I’ll try it, if only for awhile. I’m not an ugly dragon — I’m a tuatara.”

[TheSongOfTheStars]

awww that's sweet! (And sad)