The Dragon's Cry

"The water is cold," you exclaim while running your claws through the surface. "And dark. Who knows how deep it is."

"Well your staff touches the bottom, right?" Sussurr asks.

"That's no guarantee it's like that all the way. The floor could dip down at any moment and descend kilometers below."

Sussurr gives you a doubtful expression and says, "Thousands?"

The cavern is extremely wide, shaped in an irregular circle and filled halfway with water. Your were-dragon vision allows you to perceive the patches of moss draping from the ceiling and the tiny blue colonies of lichen in between. Your pupils dilate to full circles, straining to grasp what little light has passed through the crevices.

"Shouldn't we dive in?" Sussurr questions. "You know, I'm not crazy or anything like that," he says, and removes a handful of scarlet hair from around his ear. "But I can hear footsteps approaching, and if it ain't friendly, I'm not staying."

"Well, I think we should break the walls. Notice the cracks at the far end where wall meets ceiling," and as you begin to explain, you trace them out with a fore-finger talon. "If we morph into full dragon form, our combined strength would break that point like paper maché. Can't you see the light coming from the other side? I bet you it's the sun, or even the moon." You light up with a sudden thought: If it's a crescent moon outside, it would make all this forgettable for me! I love crescent moons.

Without a response to your explanation, Sussurr begins walking through the water, descending lower and lower until fully submerged. You sit down to think about the situation, but as soon as you recognize the same armor-clanking noise Sussurr witnessed, you jump in as well. The cold water soothes your injuries and open wound, and the scales that form your skin become saturated and soft. Rising to the top for another breath of air, you become startled and shaken by Sussurr, who has just emerged.

"Shree! There's underwater caves! I can barely see them on the bottom floor, but there seems to be a dim light coming from within. There must be hundreds of them!"

Sussurr's bulging eyes reveals his excitement, and his continual panting demonstrates his exertion. There's a glint of hope in your own expression as the chance of escape becomes more inevitable.

"Really?" you exclaim. "How far down?"

"I'd say about twenty-five or thirty meters, not much though. You were right when you said the floor might dip down; it goes all the way down toward caves!"

"Twenty-five or thirty meters?! That's almost impossible," you say as you calculate the distance. If memory serves you correct, it takes three meters to make a mark, and there are ten marks on a Dragon's field: that's three-tenths of an entire field! Your wounded leg, although numb under the cold water, is not trustworthy, and your ribs are damaged and bent and probably couldn't hold as much air as you might otherwise be accustomed to; then there's general fatigue to consider. Your lower back feels sore and your shoulder has become cramped. You are definitely not in shape for an outstanding swim.

"Honestly," you say to Sussurr. "I don't think I can make it."

Sussurr studies your condition with a look of concern. His face wrinkles at you like an older brother might toward an injured sibling, or else someone who was sad to see you go. His wet hair covers his face like a ruby net of knotted twine, only partly covering his sensitivity.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asks.

Just then a deafening shriek breaks your conversation: a sound that reminds you of an eagle descending upon its prey. Both you and Sussurr turn to the hallway only to see a group of soldiers, clad in armor, sword and spear, and the tall figure of a man dressed in dragon skin.

"A Bogie Man!" Sussurr screams, and a hint of fear is evident in his words. "But I ... what ..."

Sussurr's surprise is just as great as your own. Legend and childhood rhymes often spoke of Bogie men, and when your foster parents wanted to frighten you from being bad, or tease you just before sleep, they would say: "The Bogie man is going to getcha."

A Bogie Man was merely an ordinary human being who dressed as a dragon, spoke as a dragon, and moved and slept as a dragon would, only to track were-dragons, like yourself, for profit. Often it was said that those humans lived very lonely and sometimes suicidal lives. They had to acquire the personality and lifestyle of true dragon-hood in order to fully manipulate were-dragon ways, which frequently conflicted with their more social human counterparts.

This particular Bogie Man is dressed with the golden flesh of an Unsur dragon, the most rare and highly prized breed of all dragons; it was skinned and tailored to fit his tall stature. His hands and feet are gloved with the claws of another breed of dragon, as the skin around the talons seem noticeably darker, and a full necklace of dragon fangs surrounds his chest. In one hand he holds a staff with the eye of a dragon fixed on top. This is a common instrument a Bogie Man might use to see in the dark or to find footprints, and it can also be used to see the trail of dust from a dragon's wings long after flight.

The white of the eye is still fresh, as it must be in order to work properly, and blood drips from the puncture of the staff, down to the claw, forming a puddle between thumb and forefinger.

Another high pitched shriek ensues, this time followed by a rapid succession of more monotone shrieks, meaning: "Stay as you are and no harm will come to you." The Bogie Man speaks in true were-dragon form, which you and Sussurr immediately recognize.

"Bull-sh ..."

"Let's go!" you interject with a panic stricken voice, and both you and Sussurr plunge deep underwater.

The caverns Sussurr spoke of are barely distinguishable, and it is a wonder to you how he could be so certain that there are hundreds of them. Even if there are just a few, which one will you enter? The answer to that question is less your responsibility than Sussurr's, as he leads the way ahead of you, treading water with powerful strokes which his muscularity provides.

Halfway down you become conscious of your left leg and begin to wonder if perhaps you are swimming too fast. Your shoulder joint starts to grind against the socket, and stroking becomes increasingly difficult, yet you struggle along.

The thought of Sussurr leaving you behind causes alarm. Your lungs pinch your throat as you desperately battle to preserve your last breath; you realize now that the bottom is too far. The caverns appear deeper than expected, even if only but three marks away.

You whip your tail around with a sudden burst of energy and throw your arms through the water toward the surface, extending your fingers to full length. The surface of the water dances above you, playing with the light as though you were looking at it from the top; bubbles escape from the sides of your mouth and pass ahead of you, reaching the surface in advance.

The fluid in your stomach begins to turn. Your ears become engulfed with pressure and the sensation of urinating fills your abdomen. You become more and more tired, and the surface appears more and more dark. You can taste the water in your nostrils and feel it passing through your throat. You forget about your campaign toward the top and drop your arms only to release a large bubble of air, which forces itself out in the form of a bellowing burp.

Your pupils become fat and round, and a vision of the midnight sky enters your mind; all the darkness and serenity of the night accompanies you. All except the bright, twinkling stars and the moon you so loved.

The End

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