I rose to find, at my immediate disposal, a Dragon beneath me.

I said nothing, did not move. It wasn’t for fear; rather, having come to realize that this earthy mound was indeed living, at this very moment breathing (erratically, though gently, its body rising and falling as the sea), I thought that maybe it had been injured. What I could see of its body was caked in dirt and more. It seemed we had both endured a tumble: my arms matched, with scratches and bruises to garnish. In the dimness a single twinkle of light grabbed at my eye, continually vying for its attention; I brushed it off.

Gently, I slid off of the Dragon, out of his gnarled yet warm fur and onto the muddy soil. I noticed the chill immediately. Dragon bodies must have been exceptionally warm, or it must have been exceptionally cold down here. Little was to be seen from where we lay. We had fallen into a cramped space. The agitating twinkle finally seized my attention, and I looked upwards towards daylight. A little of it squeezed its way through from above, blue sky and golden light signifying the overland above a Dragon-and-little-boy-sized hole. (Given, it wasn’t a very big Dragon by comparison. I thought he might even be my age, in Dragon years. If that were the case, neither of us were very well-off at the moment.)

I heard the echo of water running from beyond our cramped room. Without further disturbing the Dragon, I went to make sure my ears weren’t playing tricks on me. The room beyond opened up to a wide hidden grotto, a glade tucked into this little cave that hid beneath the ground.

“Could this be . . .” Even my dim voice echoed with the waters. In spite of my aches, I smiled and ran to the water’s edge. “I can tell Daddy I found it later.” Kneeling, I bent over as close to the water as I could, listening. Indeed, I could hear it singing. In its song, I could even hear the words I had just spoken, faintly.

/ I can tell daaaaaddy \

/ I found it laaaaaater \

I scooped some water up into my hands and brought my ear to it. It began singing more personal songs of my life like a friendly old bard I had known for years, highlighting my sunny days on the vista, my walks down the Great Path with Daddy like the one I was having today, the majestic Grypies always on the skies. Then it began whispering things I was not so familiar with...

/ The blood on his hands has been passed down to you \

/ Dragonslayers know no rest \

I let the water seep through my fingers and suddenly felt unsettled. I began feeling less like washing my face in the singing pool and more like returning to the Dragon. I knew something had to be watching from beyond the brush of the glade, and nothing that ever hid came out to be good.

I scooped another handful and turned to go back. I stopped as a hard yellow gaze met my eye.

I dropped my water.

It was standing several feet away from me, yet its gaze stopped me where I stood. I imagined a fiery demise at hand, should the Dragon possess fire. Otherwise, I would make it a fine, raw poolside meal.

“You foolish boy,” he said, his voice low, his words spaced so I would hear each of them distinctly. “Who told you and that man to cross the pass on a day such as this?”

“’Twas the most beautiful day we an’ our village’d seen in quite some time,” I offered, a straight-arrow answer. “The best for finding the Aidas Grotto as you an’ I have today.”

“Fools, you humans are always fools,” he went on, moving closer to me with an emphasized limp. “You never pay attention -- you let something like a beautiful day cloud your mind and soon enough you’ve no days left to be had.”

“Please don’t move,” I said.

“You’ll not command what I do in my home.”

I must have sounded more scared than intended. “No, I mean, stay right there.” I ran back to the water and scooped some more up. My tiny fingers couldn’t do much to hold it.

He looked at my cupped hands before his snout. With a huff, he smacked it away. “And what do you expect me to do with that, lest you be a healer what could manage to replenish a Dragon!”

“I have some skill, sir.” My voice shrunk beneath the babbling waters’ sound, but with ears his size I was sure he could still hear. I supposed it was luck he heeded any of my words; he could just as easily have taken off both my hands just then, no explanation needed.

The Dragon limped his way into a nest by the waters’ side. I joined him.

“Not so fast,” he said, making sure I kept my distance. I resolved only to stand near it.

“Just gonna sleep it off, eh?” I said.

“No more than a week’s rest, and I’m sure I’ve nothing better to do.”

“Not gonna explain why I’m in your nest, eh? You did say this was your place?”

“I dragged you down here.”

“Daddy too?”

“No clue what’s become of that man.”

“Well, I’ll be off, then. I could find him before the day’s dead an’ tell ‘im I found this place -- that is, if you don’t mind, seein’ as it’s your nest and all.”

“You can’t leave.”

“I’m not very tasty, yanno. You can ask Bitin’ Batholomew up the way if you want--”

“No, I mean that literally. Your only way out’s been caved in, and I’ve not the strength to dig you back out.”

“Oh.” I sat adjacent to the twined-grass nest and lay back against it daringly. “I guess we’ll be roommates for a little while, then.” I took a peek deeper into the glade, where a tiny bunny flitted in and out through the bushes almost unnoticeably. Certainly that was not the obscure, hidden thing I had feared earlier. “Looks like there’s enough to eat here.”

“I’d not suffer your hide for any longer than I could tan it, so for the sake of my languor would you please put a cap on that noise?”

“Right.”

He closed his eyes. I closed mine.

Settled in, I felt a strange comfort with the earth there. Whatever I had felt earlier began to fade.

I uttered one more thing before the Dragon could yield to sleep. “Sir, what is your name? Mine’s Weron.”

“Tinmaris.”

Simple, a straight answer. Something about him seemed familiar to me now, in a way I had never felt.

I stared at my face in the singing lake.

“BOY!”

I toppled over face-first. Pulling my head back above water, I felt no less cowardly, but a lot more clean.

“I told you, my name’s Weron. Did you wake to tell me the secret consequences of bathing in this pool?”

“Stay where you are; the consequences will manifest soon enough.”

I felt my heart suddenly go aflame. What if this water would, after engulfing my skin, melt me all away to become part of the eternal chorus? -- Or what if drinking from it would steal my voice, or what if it had actually caused this sudden fiery leap in my chest?

I stood there. Singing rose slowly in my head. Voices barely coherent or melodious spoke things I should have understood but didn’t.

/ Little boy lost to time’s cause \

/ Hapless father all ablaze \

/ Taken from the world too soon \

“Oh, they’re at it again . . . Tinmaris, do you hear it, too? Tinny?”

/ Fourclaw, fiveclaw, six \

/ Blood runs the undercurrent \

/ Of all things \

“Boy, do you believe in war?” Tinmaris asked.

“No. Do you hear this?”

/ Avengers of accidents \

/ Prey of prey \

/ Everyone is deluded by pure light \

/ Nobody seeks the truth \

“I say, do you hear this?”

/ Bring all the stars down from the sky \

/ The ages will forget again \

/ Things cannot be returned \

“Wars are silly things, boy. People, sometimes one person, vows to kill for his beliefs, for his vengeance.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“In turn, the attacked also kill. In the end, all families are destroyed; a war tarnishes their line for years to come.”

“Why are you telling me this? I only walked today so Daddy and I could find the Aidas Grotto together. Why is it telling me sad things?”

“You and I were born into a line of war. It sees no end.”

My eyes widened. “You know something about today. You pulled me down here, right?”

The singing turned to shrieking, screeching at the center of my mind. I collapsed; Tinmaris pulled me out of the pool, sat me on his nest with my head propped up.

“That was a song just for you,” he said.

“That sets me at ease,” I responded. “What happened today?”

“Trouble above. That’s the most I know of it. You like a fool just had to be out in the clear and open, so I brought you here.”

I recalled a swift hit in the back before I blacked out earlier. I must have thought “midday mugger” or “Stolfie attack” in the quarter-second immediately after, but the sudden rush was nearly indescribable.

Tinmaris changed the subject. “Don’t you think you’ve been the shadow of your father for too long?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Are you not breeding age? You should be out on your own.”

“I . . . have quite the way to go on that.”

“I can’t stand seeing such a pathetic-looking human. Let me grab you something to eat.”

Tinmaris started a fire (with flint, not with his own breath) and roasted a rabbit -- more than enough meat for me. I suddenly felt like a guest in his bed, yet I felt awkward, me with my relatively good condition and him with his bad legs.

I could not get comfortable, either; the feeling that something had happened overland and I was needed there would not leave, and dusk approached.

“Haven’t you suffered me enough today? I think I’ll go now.”

“There really is no end to your foolishness, child. I say there is no way for you to leave, yet you insist.”

“If we don’t find a way out, somebody will find a way in. An’ that’s just going to make things harder for you, isn’t it?”

Unable to refute my unflappable logic, Tinmaris took me to the little hole that led to falling twilight above and began to dig. As the dirt came away beneath his claws, I could tell he didn’t want to be doing this, not because of his own pain but something more. I ignored the strange sense I had; Dragons could be all snooty and withhold information if they wanted to.

Above-ground, a strong smell caught hold of us both. I looked to the distance, back towards my home. It smoldered now . . . Between here and there, the earth had been tossed as if caught by a tornado.

My feet propelled me forward, but Tinmaris caught me, tripped me. “You think anyone is left there? You’re just going to hurt yourself.”

“Not everyone was upset with your humans,” Tinmaris told me later, beneath the stars. “Like me. But little ones like me have no say. Some adults tried hard to stop this from happening. They fought each other. Right now, one of us sleeps along with your village . . .”

“It was like that with us. I mean -- I don’t think anybody died, but nobody really ever wanted to confront the Dragons.”

“Except your father.”

I paused. I was much too tired to think of all this. Understanding did little to dry tears, anyway, and I had cried away all my energy.

“You were likely too young to remember anything, as was I. And very well so; we should not have to harbor our bloodlines’ warlust.”

I looked at the tangerine Dragon, him glowing in his firelight. I asked, “You’re alone, aren’t you, Tinmaris?”

“Very much so, Weron.”

“Let’s be friends.”

Tinmaris looked at me skeptically, like I were human baggage. Somehow, that made me smile.

“You found me on the path today.”