The Black Dragon (tentative title)

[the_wolfs_howl]

Author's Note: This is the first draft of a story I'm hoping to make into a stand-alone novel. Right now I'm just trying to get out the basics of the plot and things like that, but I could use any tips or suggestions you can give me. The original inspiration for this story came from reading Eragon by Christopher Paolini and The Dragonriders of Pern: Dragonflight by Anne McCaffery. So I wanted to make a Dragon Rider story of my own, with my own little twists here and there. Oh, and if you have any idea of a good title for the story as you read, please tell me.

Sean took in a slow, shivering breath as his eyes travelled up the heaving mass of flesh and dull grey scales. His back was pressed hard against the stone wall of the Meeting House, and escape to either side was blocked off by the huge creature's giant foreclaws. Those sharp ivory talons digging into the earth were each almost two feet long, and sharpened to cruel, deadly points that could have pierced right through his body with one flick. So why hadn't they? He had already been standing here for over a minute, and the great beast had done nothing but pant heavily, its rancid breath washing over him.

Slowly, the muscles of the beast's long, sinuous neck moved the large, triangular head down to become level with Sean. Sean gasped; that head was as long as his entire body, the vast milky eyes as big around as his head. And those teeth.... Sean could see five rows of fine, sharp teeth - some missing here or there, but most intact - as the creature's rough lip curled back. Sean felt faint, but there was no room in his quivering mind to consider how distinctly unmanly he was acting. He had forgotten all about the tales his grandmother had told him: the renowned Dragonslayers, who had tested their steel against huge beasts like this one, and won. He forgot the burned crops, the dead livestock rotting in great gashes made by talons like those right there.... Sean looked into the half-blinded eye, like an oversized crystal ball, and saw his own reflection in it.

Just when Sean was ready to give himself up completely, and slip down onto the ground in a dead faint before being ripped apart by dagger-like teeth, something happened. He wasn't sure what exactly, for his vision had begun to blur and darken around the edges. He seemed to see a silver-haired woman holding a dark blob of some kind, cradling it like a newborn infant. "You're the one," she whispered. Or maybe it was, "Are you the one? Take care of my child...." No, maybe she'd said, "I don't care if you take my child. Because you're the right one." Ah, he understood now: "Are you the right one? Because...I'm about to die."

Before Sean could figure out what the woman was trying to say, everything went dark. He was briefly aware of a heavy weight in his arms before he finally did faint.

----------

"But shouldn't we wake him?"

"Don't touch him! He's cursed, can't you see?!"

"Still.... The poor boy can't help it, can he? The beast was practically on top of him."

"Well, I'm not going near him. I'm staying right here."

"Coward."

Nervous titters filled the air as Sean slowly came back to his senses. He felt something hard, like a rock, pressing uncomfortably against his ribs on one side, held there by his arm, which was in turn pinned under his body. Groaning a little, he shifted the object out of the way with his other hand so he could pull his arm out from under his body. His fingers met a smooth, cool surface, more like glass than stone. At last, Sean tugged his eyelids open. He heard soft gasps and rustles as the people crowding just out of reach backed away farther.

"Look out!" someone cried.

"He's waking!" another added unneccessarily.

Sean blinked slowly several times before his eyes registered what he was seeing. Cradled in the crook of his right arm was a large, egg-shaped rock. It was pitch black, and very smooth and shiny, like obsidian. Sean liked the way it felt against his palms as he kept it out of harm's way while he pushed himself to a sitting position. Only then did he notice the people watching him.

The crowd was made of villagers, the same villagers that had fled in all directions at first sight of the hulking grey beast. Some of them wore bandages around their heads or arms, and all were armed to the teeth with spears, pitchforks, and hoes. The baker's wife clutched two breadshovels, and the butcher wielded his two largest, sharpest knives. Sean slowly straightened, looking around bewilderedly. They were all staring at him with the same fear and loathing they would a wolf. He unconsciously held the strange rock closer to his chest.

"Out of my way, coming through!" a voice called through the momentary silence. The crowd parted and a short, bald-headed man in a long, threadbare brown robe stomped forward, waving his hands at the townsfolk to shoo them away. "God keep you all, you may go home now!"

"Father Mark!" Sean cried in delight. There was no face he would rather see now, in this moment of bewildered confusion, than the wrinkled one of the man standing before him.

"No time to talk now, lad," Father Mark muttered to Sean, reaching out to help him to his feet.

"But Father!" the baker's wife cried before they touched. "The boy...he is cursed!"

"Yes, good woman, I am aware of that," Father Mark replied impatiently, pulling Sean up by the arm. "Thankfully, our good Lord is forgiving. Come with me now, lad. The church."

"Y-Yes, Father," Sean managed to stammer as Father Mark all but dragged him out of the circle of onlookers, all of whom crossed themselves fervently as he passed from their midst. Sean felt numb all the way up the cobbled street to the chapel. He kept on stumbling, and if Father Mark had not such a firm grip on his upper arm, he most likely would have fallen. He dimly noted the smoldering thatch of one or two cottages, and the large gashes in the ground of the market square. Then he felt the stone pressed against his ribs again, cradled there by his arm. "The dragon!" he suddenly remembered. "Father, what happened to-"

"Burnt, of course," Father Mark snapped dismissively, gesturing towards a black smudge on a hill some distance outside of the village. A tower of smoke rose from the hill, all that remained of the fearsome predator. "It died of its own accord. Must have been old. Crazed too, the way it moved. But we've little time for this now, lad. In, in!" He pulled open the heavy wooden door to the chapel, pushing Sean inside before shuffling in himself.

[the_wolfs_howl]

Sean felt himself somewhat calmed by the cool, dark interior of the chapel. Clusters of candles cast soft pools of light towards the front, and the single stained-glass window depicting Saint George's defeat of the dragon shed a patchwork of colored light across the hard wooden benches at the back. Father Mark led him to the front of the chapel, bowed hastily in prayer, and moved to the left, to the door that led to the belltower. Sean knelt at the front of the church, murmured a short prayer himself, and hurried after the small priest.

Father Mark's scant chamber lay directly beneath the belfry itself. A hard straw mattress lay on the floor, and other than a wooden table and two rickety chairs, the room was bare. The priest moved over to the small stone fireplace, stoking the fire and placing a black kettle over the flames. He gestured for Sean to take a seat, and bustled about for a bit of bread and cheese, the best sort of food he had to offer.

Sean slowly sat down at the table, setting the curious rock down on its scrubbed wooden surface. He absently ran his palms across its smooth surface, watching Father Mark until the small robed man had sat across from him and pushed a hunk of bread and a slice of cheese towards him. "Eat, lad," Father Mark said wearily. "You'll need your strength."

Sean stared at the stale bread and cheese for a moment, then swallowed. His mind was chugging along very slowly, but one coherent thought had managed to rise in his mind, and he didn't think it would allow him to eat. "Father Mark..." he said slowly, "what happened? With the dragon, I mean? It cornered me, but it didn't attack. And then this stone-"

As he ran his hand along its smooth surface, he thought he felt it shake beneath him. He drew back his hand as hastily as if it had been burned. When he raised his eyes back to Father Mark's face, he saw that the old priest looked more tired than ever.

"That stone," Father Mark said heavily, "isn't a stone. It's an egg."

"An egg?" Sean drew his breath in sharply as the black object rattled back and forth on the table. It fell still again, and he whispered, "You don't mean...a dragon egg? That old dragon laid an egg before it died?"

Father Mark nodded wearily. "It's a dragon egg all right. I wouldn't be surprised if the old dragon had been carrying it with her for quite some time before she found you."

"What do you mean?" Sean asked hoarsely, watching the egg with apprehension as it shook more violently and cracks began to run down its sides.

"Hush now!" Father Mark cautioned, holding up a hand and sitting up straighter. "It's hatching!"

Sean's eyes were glued to the egg. More and more cracks were appearing all over the smooth black face of the egg, creating white spiderwebs across the black obsidian of the shell. He held his breath, and suddenly, with a loud cracking and clattering, the egg exploded outwards. Sean jumped and numbly brushed bits of shell off his face. His eyes were as big as saucers as he stared at what had come out of the egg. It was a dragon, no doubt about it. The triangular head, the bat-like wings, the scaly lizard-like body.... This dragon was but a miniature version of the hulking beast that had loomed over Sean earlier that day. This dragon's scales, instead of the dull grey of its mother, were shiny and black, just like the shell of its egg.

Sean bent lower over this creature to examine it better. It was about the size of a lapdog, with a long, swishing tail and bird-like talons. Its head bobbed about on a long, flexible neck that swayed like a snake, and its wings were folded awkwardly on its back. The baby dragon briefly opened its mouth, and Sean caught a glimpse of a single row of shiny, sharp teeth. Its small, beady eyes looked straight back at him, and he was struck by how intelligent they seemed.

The dragon opened its mouth again and made several curious sounds, halfway between growling and hissing; but rather than it merely sounding like the bark of a dog or the cry of an eagle, these sounds seemed intelligent and purposeful. Almost like...some sort of language. As the dragon continued to make these sounds, Sean became more and more sure that it was a language of some kind. And the more certain he was that the dragon was trying to communicate with him, the more he imagined he might - just might - understand what it was saying. And slowly, the sounds issuing from the dragon's throat became words, words he understood perfectly.

"...food, I say. Do you realize how hard it is to break through the shell of an egg?"

"I've...never been inside an egg before," Sean said timidly.

The dragon drew back, sitting up like a dog and cocking its head to one side. "No? Do humans not hatch from eggs?"

Sean shook his head. The dragon looked distinctly puzzled, so Sean hesitantly asked, "Would you like some food?" He picked up some of the cheese Father Mark had tried to give him earlier, and offered it to the little dragon.

The dragon pounced on the little yellow hump, but almost instantly spat it back out in a pool of saliva. "It's soft, and squishy, and sour!" the dragon complained, backing up and rustling his overlarge wings. "Give me some meat, and stop playing games!"

Sean looked up at Father Mark to find the priest watching the two of them with a bewildered expression. "Well?" Sean asked.

"Well what?" Father Mark asked, just a hint of the townsfolk's fear hiding behind his eyes.

"Meat! The dragon wants meat!"

"Oh." Father Mark sat staring at the creature for a moment, before leaping to his feet and leaving the room, looking flustered. He was back before long with a chicken leg.

"Finally!" the dragon said without thanking him. "I was beginning to think you were being difficult on purpose." The dragon pounced on the chicken leg much as he had with the lump of cheese, this time tearing away at the cold animal flesh with obvious relish. Sean watched with amazement as the tiny creature devoured all the meat off the bone in less than a minute, then sat back on its haunches to lick its lips with obvious delight. It gave a great yawn, scaled eyelids slipping down halfway over its little eyes. Before Sean realized what it was doing, it had climbed into his lap and laid its triangular head in the crook of his arm. Sean was surprised to feel the rapid beating of the dragon's heart against his stomach, and a tiny rumbling, like purring, emanating from its long neck. This dragon, the offspring of that terrifying creature that had threatened him just today, looked so peaceful and vulnerable in his lap, a shiny black heap of scales and warmth. Sean couldn't keep back a small smile as he held the baby dragon close.

When he looked back up at Father Mark, however, he saw the old priest sitting with his head in his hands. "What is it, Father?" Sean asked in surprise.

Father Mark looked up, his eyes bleak. "You will never be allowed to keep that creature," he said. "Even if you hid it away somewhere and fed it in secret, it would soon grow too large to even fit inside your house. Sean, it has to go."

Sean hugged the warm beast close to him, feeling as though the kitten he had just been given was going to be drowned. "No! Can't you see? It's helpless! You can't just kill it or abandon it; it's a baby!"

"As soon as the villagers see it, they will not rest until its ashes lie atop its mother's."

Tears filled Sean's eyes. The rapid beating of the dragon's heart, the steady purring, and its palpitating chest as it breathed all spoke of new life. This little dragon knew nothing of what life had to offer! How could anyone consider killing it before it did? "I won't let you," he whispered.

"You have a large heart, Sean," Father Mark said gently. "When you see a creature in need, your heart goes out to it - even if it is a dragon. But you must see that not everyone is as merciful as you are. When others see this dragon, all they will see is a potential killer. The hatred of dragons is not a thing of yesterday, and it will take many years more to die down. They will call you cursed and say that you have communed with demons. After hearing you speak with that dragon, I could hardly blame them either.

"It has long been my conviction, however, that dragons are not what we make them out to be. Have they not been created by God, just as we have?"
Sean dried his eyes, looking at Father Mark with renewed hope. "Then is there some way I can save it?"

Father Mark hesitated, heaved a sigh, and finally nodded. "Yes. You must leave the village and take the dragon with you. Shun humanity, and the two of you will live."

For a few moments, Sean was so stunned he couldn't speak. When he finally found his voice, he burst out, "Leave the village?!" The dragon stirred in its sleep, so he lowered his voice with effort. "But...Father Mark...all my future is in this village. I've lived my whole life here; I was planning to continue to live here till my death! I was going to marry and start a family! You were...you were going to teach me how to illuminate the holy scriptures...."

"I'm sorry, my boy, I truly am. But you must make a choice: your life here, or the life of that dragon. You will not be able to have both anymore."

Sean looked down at the sleeping dragon's head and gracefully curving neck. Then he looked back up and met Father Mark's gaze with a sigh. "You know there's only one option I can take."

Father Mark smiled gently at him. "God bless your merciful heart, my boy."

[Esoteric]

You--you've written some of it already? That was fast!!

Good, I like how it starts right in the action. Poor guy, so helpless...but it really works for getting the reader on his side. I also like how it was a clergyman who bailed him out...that was pleasantly unexpected since I would expect them to consider dragons evil (Saint George...Revelations...etc.)

I was confused though, did the villagers burn the dragon, or did it pull a 'phoenix' of sorts? It wasn't entirely clear to me.

Anyway, so far the writing is great! My only reservation is that perhaps Sean shouldn't be quite so accepting at the end. Yeah, he's got a soft heart for animals, but it is a dragon, and I'm guessing they've always been villains in the stories he was told. Now one's been forced on him. I like how he's torn between village loyalties and the creature, but i think it should be even a little harder for him to leave. But that can wait for the second draft...keep going, I like it!

[the_wolfs_howl]

anonymous - Thanks for reading! I know, Dragon Riders are way overdone, but what is one to do? You know, the more I read, the more I see that what seemed like a really original idea might not actually be that original. I read Eragon before Dragonflight, and I thought Paolini had come up with a bunch of things. But maybe he'd read Dragonflight and - consciously or unconsciously - taken some of the ideas in there for his own work. Personally, rather than attempting to be original and failing abysmally, I like to not worry about using typical plot elements if I can just make a good story. Bleh, this probably isn't good story, but I try. And I hope to have some surprises in here...somewhere...maybe...

Esoteric - Yeah, I'd already written most of that a month or so ago, so I just finished it up. The next bit will probably be longer in coming, though.
Father Mark is definitely an exception to the superstitions and fears of most people in their village. I'm sick and tired of reading stories where clergymen are placed in a bad light, where they're corrupt and greedy and uncaring. It's time for a story with clergymen who actually care about people. And as soon as I decided to make dragons be hated like in European mythology, I knew someone would have to say, "God created dragons as well."
I'm sorry for the confusion about the burnt dragon. Yes, the villagers burned the carcass. I'll be sure to make that clearer in the second draft.
I'll also take to heart your suggestion about Sean being reluctant to leave. I know I'd be reluctant if I was being practically exiled from all humanity forever.

Thanks to both of you for your suggestions and comments. I don't know when the next bit will be up, but keep your eyes peeled till then!

[the_wolfs_howl]

Ah, yes. I do hope my dragon isn't completely cliche in every aspect. I'll have to admit that I adore dry, sarcastic humor. I'm not sure how good I am at writing it, but I'll definitely try with this dragon. I'm particularly striving to make the dragon be different from Eragon's Saphira. That was one thing I thought was done quite well in Eragon, but naturally it would be quite lame to make my dragon be just the same as Saphira.

Anyway, I must apologize to the both of you for how long it's taking to write the next bit. I'm trying to finish up a large work of fanfiction that I've been writing for almost a year now. I've gone through a lot of self-induced writer's blocks for that story, and changed my mind quite a few times about certain plot points, so it's taken a long time. But I'm almost finished with it, so I want to focus on that before I write more of this story. Thankfully, I have the majority of this story plotted out already, so it's just a matter of writing it. Well, see you soon (I hope)!

[the_wolfs_howl]

Author's Note: So I was feeling rather guilty about not updating this for so long, so I spent an hour yesterday that might have been better spent doing school writing this up instead. Nothing too much happens in this section, but we get to see more of the dragon. It's my favorite character (of course, that's not saying too much, since we've only seen three characters so far XP). Enjoy!

The next morning, Sean was woken by a rough tongue licking his cheek. His eyes flew open, and he saw the dragon bending over him. Letting out a cry of surprise, he jerked upright, unseating the dragon from where it had perched on his chest.

"Ouch!" the dragon cried as it tumbled onto the ground. "What was that for?!"

"Sorry," Sean said hastily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "You...just startled me, is all."

"I think I figured that out already," the dragon said sarcastically, straightening out its wings and sitting up properly. "Mind telling me where we are? When I hatched, we were inside somewhere."

Sean's heart sank down to his toes as the events of yesterday returned to him, and he looked around at the grassy hills all about them. "Oh.... Well, we had to leave the village; they would've killed you otherwise."

"Humans," the dragon muttered darkly. "Always killing somebody."

"How would you know?" Sean snapped irritably. He simply couldn't handle such comments when his heart was still so heavy at having to leave all he knew behind.

"I know quite a bit more than you seem to give me credit for," the dragon replied coolly. "My mother taught me many things about the world – about dragons, and humans, and all the wars we've fought against each other."

"Your...Your mother?" Sean asked in surprise. "She taught you? But you only hatched yesterday!"

"So?" A scaly ridge just above one of the dragon's eyes arched upwards, like an eyebrow. "Didn't your mother teach you about the world before you were hatched? Oh, wait, I just remembered – humans don't hatch. How unsettling that must be. Do you just plop out onto the ground, or what?"

"I...I suppose so," Sean replied slowly. He hadn't exactly witnessed a birth first-hand before.

"Well, no matter," the dragon continued briskly. "I was in my egg for about a year, so my mother had plenty of time to teach me everything I need to know. Funny, she never once mentioned that humans don't hatch. A minor detail; I suppose she merely overlooked it. So, first things first. How about something to eat?"

"Of course." Sean quickly rummaged through the pack Father Mark had given him for his journey, and pulled out the remains of the chicken the dragon had devoured the previous day. The little dragon tore away eagerly at the meat, and was already licking the bone clean by the time Sean began on his bread and cheese.

"I suppose we should get over the basics first," the dragon said as he watched Sean eat. "And by that I mean, are you a 'he' or a 'she?'"

"Can't you tell?" Sean asked in surprise.

The dragon suddenly displayed all of its immaculately white teeth, and Sean decided it must be smiling. "Can you?"

Sean stopped eating and stared at the little creature, suddenly realizing that he had no idea whatsoever of the creature's gender.

The dragon's smile only widened, and it said in a satisfied voice, "I'm a 'he.'"

"So am I."

"Good!" the dragon cried. "That way we can understand each other better. My mother told me that 'he's are very different from 'she's."

Sean smiled a little, thinking of the village girls who walked about the town in packs, giggling behind their hands whenever a young man passed them. "Your mother was right." He had never had much contact with the village girls; most of his days were spent in the church, with Father Mark. Once he had finished his breakfast, Sean said, "I suppose I should come up with a name for you, shouldn't I?"

"You most certainly will not!" the dragon cried in horror.

Sean frowned. "Why not? I can hardly call you Dragon all the time, can I?"

The dragon lifted his head in a dignified manner. "I already have a name, Human. My mother told me what it was; that was the first thing she ever told me. I am Shynael."

It was an odd name, but Sean reminded himself that this was a dragon after all. "Sha-nie-ell," he repeated carefully. "My name is Sean."

For several moments, the dragon only looked at him suspiciously. Finally he said, "Are you trying to be funny or something?"

"Wh-What do you mean?"

"That's not your name at all!"

"Isn't it?" Sean asked in surprise. "That's what everyone's always called me."

"Yes, well, apparently humans can't tell what people's names are." Shynael gave him a meaningful look. When Sean only looked confused, Shynael sighed and explained, "Your name is written all over your face, in plain sight for everyone to see. You can't see your own name, so people have to tell you what it is. Apparently your mother never told you your name, so I can see it's fallen to me now." The little dragon sat up straighter and said solemnly, "Your name, human, is Shard."

"Shard, huh?" Sean looked hopelessly into the dragon's yellow eyes and knew he couldn't argue. He could almost see the characters that made up the name Sean trembling and shifting to form the new name. The smooth 'n' sharpened into a 'd', and an 'r' squeezed in next to it. He couldn't stop the change; he knew he would soon forget about being called Sean, for this dragon was now his only companion, and he knew Shynael would only call him Shard from now on.

Sean...Shard heaved a sigh. He couldn't stop it, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He was almost starting to regret the decision he had made back in the village, and begun to wish he had simply let the villagers crush the egg as they had been meaning to. Turning his head away from Shynael, he muttered, "You're changing everything in my life, did you know that? Why can't you just leave me alone?"

He started when he felt tiny pinpricks on his leg, and turned to find that Shynael was resting his foreclaws on his leg. "You know something, Shard?" Shynael asked, placing special emphasis on the name. "I could say the same things about you and your kind. Humans have done terrible things to me and my kin. But I can see that I depend on you; I've hardly been hatched for more than a day! So how about we work together, you and I? I'm all you've got now."

Such words might have sounded proud out of the context, but as Shard looked deeper into Shynael's eyes, he realized that the little dragon's voice was sad, even a little remorseful. Shynael had only spoken the truth; the dragon was all that Shard had. He had lost his village, his dearest friends, his very way of life. In return for this payment, he had received a dragon to care for. "All right," he said at last. "I don't suppose I have much of a choice, do I? But even if I did," he murmured softly, reaching out to touch Shynael's smooth scales, "I think I would make this one."

[Esoteric]

hehehe, I do like Shynael's attitude! He's only a day old and already he's verbally manhandling Sean/Shard. The conversation is fluid and logical in it's progression too. My only criticism is the existence of a few grammatical flaws, but I get the feeling you wrote this quickly, and if so the grammar is still considerably polished. I look forward to reading more in the future! And I certainly hope this hasn't distracted you too badly from your schoolwork!

[the_wolfs_howl]

Oh, don't worry, it has I'm really behind (I do homeschool, so I can almost get away with it), so I'm having to do school throughout the summer.
I was very concerned about making Shynael different from Saphira of Eragon. I think it's safe to say he's different, eh? And after all, he's a dragon, so even as a baby he's quite...well, opinionated, shall we say.
I hope you could understand Shard's reactions; I wasn't sure if it was flowing naturally for him to be bitter at that moment, or if anyone besides me would understand the progression of his thoughts. Anyway, Shard's a name I've had for a long time, just waiting to be used. Originally, he was going to be the hero of a very typical action/adventure video game heavily based on the Legend of Zelda games. Thankfully, I decided to use the name for this instead.

Oh, and Esoteric - if you have the time, could you go into more detail about the grammatical issues? You could send me a PM or just post here.... I like nitpicking

I think in the next section there'll be more action.

[Esoteric]

Oh, and Esoteric - if you have the time, could you go into more detail about the grammatical issues? You could send me a PM or just post here.... I like nitpicking

Certainly...and you can call me 'Eso' if you like, all my buddies on here typically do. ^_^

The next morning, Sean was woken by a rough tongue licking his cheek.

When I read this, 'was woken' sounded very awkward. I'm honestly not sure if it's 'bad grammer' or not. It may be acceptable for all I know, but 'was awakened' I think would sound much better.

"I was in my egg for about a year, so my mother had plenty of time to teach me everything I need to know.

'Need' should be 'needed', or perhaps better, 'would need'.

You know, this brings up a thought. I find it rather funny that Shynael assumes he's an expert on all sorts of things simply because his mother described them. Unless she had a way to 'showing' him what certain things looked like while still inside the egg...say meat for instance...he wouldn't truly know what it looked like, or even what it tasted like..only that it's what dragons eat. You could use this to your advantage in dialog, and I think back to the first time Shynael eats.
It's already extremely funny as it is how he bites the cheese and spits it out, demanding meat instead. But you could interject even more conversation by having him taste the cheese and spout off about how it must be rotten or
something because his mother insisted it would taste good. Then, when Sean/Shard tells him it not rotten, but perfectly good cheese, Shynael could spit it out and indignantly demand meat. That's just one example of how I think you could use Shynael's 'incomplete' knowledge, of course, the choice is yours. And of course, if she did have a way of 'showing' him things...then that wouldn't work so well.

Sean smiled a little, thinking of the village girls who walked about the town in packs, giggling behind their hands whenever a young man passed them. "Your mother was right." He had never had much contact with the village girls; most of his days were spent in the church, with Father Mark. Once he had finished his breakfast, Sean said, "I suppose I should come up with a name for you, shouldn't I?"

I like the information in this paragraph, but it feels a little 'squished' together. Perhaps elaborate a bit more and somehow transition smoothly into him thinking about naming the dragon.

He started when he felt tiny pinpricks on his leg, and turned to find that Shynael was resting his foreclaws on his leg. "You know something, Shard?" Shynael asked, placing special emphasis on the name. "I could say the same things about you and your kind. Humans have done terrible things to me and my kin. But I can see that I depend on you; I've hardly been hatched for more than a day! So how about we work together, you and I? I'm all you've got now."

After reading this again, I think it would be much better if Shynael appeals to their mutual loss in forming the relationship. Shard has just lost everything he's ever known in the form of the village. Shynael has also lost the only thing he's ever known, namely his mother. Have him seem a bit more child-like in this appeal for a benefactor--it will make Shard's compassionate choice feel more natural. Again, those are just my thoughts, but I hope they help!

[the_wolfs_howl]

Wow, thanks, Eso! That's exactly what I wanted to hear! It's so wonderful when a reader takes the time to pinpoint such things and make such thoughtful suggestions. Thanks so much! I will definitely take your suggestions into mind for the second draft.

Well, now I'm off to write some more of the next section. I think it might be a bit longer than this last one was.

[Esoteric]

Cool, I'm glad that helped. ^_^ Looking forward to more.

[~darkelfgirl~]

wow. u write really great stories! I read your "Labyrinth of Aegean" story and that was great too! sorry I couldn't give some suggestions--its just that I'm trying to recover from massive writer's block right now. *sigh* keep up the great work

[the_wolfs_howl]

Thanks! I'm glad you like my stories! And actually, I've got a self-induced writer's block of my own, which I'm trying to break. I'm trying not to make the next section of this story too boring ><

[the_wolfs_howl]

Author's Note: I finally got the next section written! Hopefully you'll like it; there's actually some action in this one, and not just talking.

Shard got to his feet, taking a few moments to take in his surroundings. They were only several miles from the village; he hadn't been able to walk any farther last night. He had concealed himself and the dragon behind a clump of bushes off the side of the main road, just in case. He knew there was nothing he could do now but put as much distance as he could between himself and the village. Some of the more adventuresome of the villagers might search for him in hopes of winning glory and a place with the Dragonslayers in the tales the villagers told. Still, he was reluctant to leave behind his entire world and tried to stave off the moment when he would turn away from it at last.

A tugging on his trouser leg brought him back to earth, and Shard looked down to find Shynael pulling gently at him. "Hey," the dragon called up when he saw that he had his companion's attention. "What're you looking at? Let me see!"

With a sigh, Shard bent down and picked the little dragon up. It was like holding a large, very scaly and rather cumbersome cat. Shynael's large leathery wings kept getting in the way as he clawed himself around Shard's shoulder to look at the village on the horizon. "That's where you live, right?"

"Not anymore," Shard replied distractedly, struggling to keep hold of Shynael. "We're outcasts now."

Shynael snorted. "You might be."

Feeling irritated again, Shard awkwardly reached down and picked up his pack. "And you're an accursed demon to them."

At this, Shynael fell silent, and Shard began to walk along the side of the road. It occurred to him that if he were to meet any travellers, they would see Shynael immediately, so he struck out across the rolling hills instead. He figured it wouldn't really matter where they went, so long as it was far from those who would wish to pursue them. Presently, Shynael let his head rest on Shard's shoulder and fell asleep, purring as he had the day before. Shard trudged on through the hours, feeling very much alone.

Shynael only seemed to get heavier as time drew on, and finally Shard didn't think he could carry the creature any longer. "Shynael," he said, shaking the dragon awake. "Shynael, wake up."

Shynael squirmed reluctantly in Shard's arms, but finally he cracked one eye open. "What?" he snapped irritably.

"You're going to have to get down; you're too heavy."

With much grumbling and complaining, Shynael did as he was told and dropped nimbly to the ground. He stretched just as Shard had seen cats and dogs do: first with his tail in the air, and then in the opposite direction. He yawned widely, his tongue curling, and shook himself all over, his wings slapping against his sides. This done, he trotted along at Shard's heels like a loyal dog.

As Shard walked, he couldn't stop thinking about all he had left behind. Why did things have to be this way? What had he done to deserve such a harsh blow? Had he committed some dreadful sin without even realizing it? Was this God's way of punishing him for his transgressions?

"You're too serious!" Shynael suddenly cried, crashing into Shard's thoughts. "Look around you; it's a beautiful day, and you're wasting it by moping!"

Shard looked up in surprise, and realized that Shynael was right. The sun was beginning its descent and the sunlight had begun to take on that lazy orange glow of the late afternoon. The hills were casting dusky shadows behind them onto the yellowing grass. It was beautiful, a simple, rustic kind of beautiful.

"And I'm hungry," Shynael continued. "Let's stop all this walking already! It's boring, and my legs are killing me."

Shard suddenly realized he was rather hungry as well, so he came to a stop on the side of a hill and sat down to rummage through the pack again. The chicken was gone; strips of salted pork and dried venison were the only meat left. They would last a long time – at least Shard had thought they would, until he saw how much Shynael ate.

Before he could worry too long, however, Shynael said, "You want to play a game? I've been waiting and waiting to play one, ever since my mother told me of the games hatchlings play together. I want to see what it's like!"

Shard smiled despite himself to see the little dragon's eagerness. "All right. What do you want to play?"

As an answer, Shynael slapped him gently on the arm with his tail and cried out, "You're it!" He scampered off through the tall grass.

Shard launched to his feet and chased after the little creature, calling out with a grin, "You think you can get away from me?!"

Shynael only laughed and continued to run. Shard had to admit, Shynael was very fast for such a small creature. He was little more than a streak of black in the grass. Several times Shard lunged forward, sure he was about to catch him, but then Shynael would dodge swiftly out of reach. Soon Shard was panting hard, his breath stinging his throat.

Finally, Shard had to admit defeat. He slumped onto the ground and flopped onto his back, breathing heavily. A black head entered his vision, grinning widely. "Given up already?" Shynael laughed.

"You're...pretty fast...for being so little," Shard panted.

"And you're pretty slow for being so big," Shynael returned. He moved his head away from Shard's and lay down at Shard's side. For a long time, the two of them lay there in silence. At last, after Shard's breathing had returned to normal, Shynael said, "I like playing. We should do more of it, you know. There's all sorts of games besides that one, and I want to try them all."

Shard put his hands behind his head and looked up at the sky, which had darkened during their game. The first few stars had begun to appear. He felt much more at peace than he had earlier that day, but maybe that was only because he was completely worn out. He had no energy to lament what had happened, or to feel resentful towards his new companion.

"You're awfully quiet," Shynael suddenly said.

"I'm thinking."

"About what?"

Shard smiled. "About how beautiful the stars are. Did your mother tell you about them?"

For a moment, Shynael was silent. Then he murmured, "She described many things about the world outside my egg. But...somehow, words weren't enough for me to see. I'm glad I can see the stars now."

Shard suddenly felt a warm pressure against his side, and looked down to find Shynael snuggling up against him. The little dragon laid his head on Shard's chest, his golden eyes reflecting the starry sky above. Shard returned his gaze to the sky, and the two of them were silent until both had fallen asleep.

[the_wolfs_howl]

For the next two days, Shard and Shynael continued on much the same as they had the first day of their journey. Shynael alternated between riding in Shard's arms and scampering along at the boy's side, investigating everything he came upon like a puppy. Shynael would often make a comment such as, "My mother mentioned this." And when Shynael was bored with his investigations, he and Shard would play a game. Often they both knew the game, but once or twice Shynael would introduce a dragon game that Shard had never heard of before.

Shard caught himself actually enjoying these games, childish though they might be. He had given up playing hide-and-seek years ago, but suddenly he found himself peeking into tussocks and sneaking around hills – and enjoying himself thoroughly. Perhaps these games with Shynael brought back pleasant memories of playing with the other boys and girls of the village when he had been a small child.

When they stopped at midday to rest and have a bite to eat, Shynael commented, "You're a lot more fun now, you know. So you see? That's why you shouldn't-" He suddenly cut himself off, sitting up straighter, craning his neck as high as it could go. "What's that over there?"

Shard turned and shaded his eyes from the bright sunlight, squinting in the direction Shynael was looking. At first he couldn't see anything, but then he noticed two shapes he had initially thought were distant trees were moving towards them. In a few moments, he realized they were people. Humans. For some reason, the sight of them brought shivers down his back. "I think we'd better get going," he said, hurriedly putting the rest of the food back into his pack.

Shynael's eyes were confused and afraid. "You're scared," he said anxiously. "Why are you scared? Who are they? What will they do to us?"

"I'm not scared," Shard snapped, getting to his feet and ignoring Shynael's other questions. "I just want to get going."

Shynael followed, casting many anxious glances back at the humans following them. "They're getting closer," he said after a few minutes.

Shard risked looking over his shoulder, and saw that they were indeed closer than they had been. He could see now that they were men. Men carrying spears, with swords hanging from their belts. Shard walked faster, but several minutes later Shynael informed him the men were closer still. Shard looked back, and the fear churning in his stomach leapt into his throat. "Run!" he called to Shynael, starting to run himself.

One of the men called to the other, and Shard could hear their running footsteps behind him. He could tell they were getting closer, and knew they would catch up to him soon. And then...well, he had no idea what they would do then. Suddenly he heard an odd shriek, and whirled around to find Shynael squirming in one of the men's grip. Shynael's eyes were rolling with fear, and that fear seemed to take over Shard's entire body so that he was rooted to the spot.

"Don't worry, boy," one of the men said. "We'll let you go; all we want is your little pet here."

"Dragon talons and scales bring in a hefty price at an apothecary's," commented the one holding Shynael, chuckling.

"Shard!" Shynael screamed. "Do something! They're going to kill me!"

As Shard stared at Shynael, a horrible thought occured to him. I could let them kill Shynael. They'll let me go. I'd be free of the dragon. I'd never be able to go back to the village, but I might be able to live in some other town or village. I could be normal again. The moment he had thought this, Shynael stopped his struggling and stared at Shard as though he had said those words out loud.

The horrified, abandoned look in Shynael's yellow eyes was simply too much for Shard to bear. "Let him go," he managed to choke out.

"Look, sonny," the first man said, "your little pet here isn't gonna be so little for very long. I could tell from the size of the tracks that it was just a baby, but before you know it, it'll be bigger than a house. Dragons are cunning, boy; your pet will eat you for sure. We're doing you a favor, see?"

As the man reached for a knife at his belt, Shard snapped into action, grabbing the man's wrist before he could pull the knife out. "Shynael isn't my pet," Shard said indignantly. "He's my friend, and I won't let you hurt him!"

The man's face, which had almost been kindly before, hardened into a frown. "Don't cause us any trouble, boy, or you'll be the one who gets hurt." He twisted his wrist away from Shard's grip and started towards Shynael and the other man, pulling his knife out of its sheath.

Hot blood pounded through Shard's temples, and everything suddenly looked red, throbbing in time to his pulse. Letting out a roar of rage, he charged at both of the men. He couldn't see what he was doing, but he heard thumps and cracks, yells and roars. When his vision cleared once more, both men were lying on the ground, motionless, and Shynael was free. Not waiting to see if the men were even breathing or not, Shard scooped Shynael up and ran away as fast as he could. The terror was racing through his body again in place of the consuming rage he had just felt, and it made him stagger and fall as soon as the men were out of sight.

Hunched over on his hands and knees, Shard looked over at Shynael, who looked just as frightened as he was. "What just happened, Shynael?" he asked fearfully.

"I almost got killed, that's what!" Shynael cried, in a voice much higher than usual. "You were going to let them have me, weren't you?"

"I.... How do you know what I was thinking?"

Shynael tried his hardest to sound sarcastic, but ended up just sounding scared. "It's the bond between us. Don't you know anything?"

"What...What bond?"

"My mother said...that there are some humans who can bond somehow with a dragon. The more time the human and dragon spend together, the more they can understand each other, and the more like each other they become. I could feel your intentions earlier."

Shard remembered his traitorous thoughts, and his insides squirmed with guilt. "Shynael, I'm sorry. That was a horrible thing for me to think; I should've-"

Shynael interrupted him by rubbing his scaly head along Shard's cheek. "But you didn't let them have me. You chose the harder way, but it was the right one."

Shard shuddered. "Do you think I killed them? It's just...I got so...so angry all of a sudden, and.... I don't really know what I was doing."

Shynael moved his head so he could look Shard in the eye. "For a moment, you were a dragon inside."

[Esoteric]

All righty then, time for more critiquing! Let's get right into it.

Shynael only seemed to get heavier as time drew on, and finally Shard didn't think he could carry the creature any longer.

This sentence was a little misleading... it seemed to be suggesting that Shynael was actually growing larger and heavier as they journeyed a long time, when in reality, Shard's arms were just getting tired over the course of a few hours.

"Let's stop all this walking already! It's boring, and my legs are killing me."

hehe, I really liked this a lot--how they enjoy a simple game of tag. I also found it amusing, yet realistic for a 'bored child' to moan about sore legs one minute and and then completely outrun someone the next. I actually think Shard should playfully complain of this discrepancy when he can't catch Shynael.

For the next two days, Shard and Shynael continued on much the same as they had the first day of their journey. Shynael alternated between riding in Shard's arms and scampering along at the boy's side, investigating everything he came upon like a puppy. Shynael would often make a comment such as, "My mother mentioned this." And when Shynael was bored with his investigations, he and Shard would play a game. Often they both knew the game, but once or twice Shynael would introduce a dragon game that Shard had never heard of before.

A good transition paragraph, but the part about Shynael's talkative comments feels cut short. Lengthen this a little, make the thoughts flow together.

He had given up playing hide-and-seek years ago, but suddenly he found himself peeking into tussocks and sneaking around hills – and enjoying himself thoroughly.

I love this sentence--a simple yet wonderfully visual description.

Okay, now for the two men with spears (I'll call them 'hunters'). If the hunters started out so far away that they weren't clearly visible, I found it a little hard to believe they caught up to Shard so quickly and easily. Not to mention, that for dragon hunters, their approach was a little reckless (what if a big dragon had been with the little one?) I think some how, the hunters should sneak up on the two of them. Whether Shard and Shynael see them and then temporarily lose them, or whether they never seem them coming in the first place, it doesn't matter, but they should snatch Shynael in a moment of complete surprise...at least, I think a smart hunter would.

I like Shard's doubt and Shynael's reaction to it a great deal. I also like that the hunters try to reason him out of keeping the dragon as a 'pet' but I think they should go a bit further an offer him a little money for it as consolation, especially since they admit that the dragon is Shard's. Perhaps this could be part of Shard's temptation?

The horrified, abandoned look in Shynael's yellow eyes was simply too much for Shard to bear.

Elaborate on this a bit more--it's a bit too short of an explanation for the resolve which follows. Perhaps...in his thoughts of the village, he thinks of what Father Mark would say about such a betrayal...I dunno, but it needs something.

The man's face, which had almost been kindly before, hardened into a frown. "Don't cause us any trouble, boy, or you'll be the one who gets hurt." He twisted his wrist away from Shard's grip and started towards Shynael and the other man, pulling his knife out of its sheath.

The last sentence is confusing...who's trying to do what now?

Hot blood pounded through Shard's temples, and everything suddenly looked red, throbbing in time to his pulse. Letting out a roar of rage, he charged at both of the men. He couldn't see what he was doing, but he heard thumps and cracks, yells and roars. When his vision cleared once more, both men were lying on the ground, motionless, and Shynael was free.

I later understood that Shard had somehow tapped into a greater 'dragon' strength during this fight, but that wasn't completely apparent from this paragraph alone. I thought it was just a blind fit of rage--a mere peasant lashing out recklessly against two seasoned fighters...and I totally couldn't see Sean (I intentionally use that name) winning.
I think that in this paragraph, Sean should be more aware that he's feeling something totally foreign, something invading him which wants to beat down his shy, cowardly self and take control of his body. He yields to it and loses clear vision etc... A glimpse of Shard has shown itself and when Sean comes back to his senses, that scares him on top of the fact that he "almost got killed".
Whew, all right I think that's enough for now, hehe! I hope that helps, and again, much of what I suggest is precisely that...suggestion. You can take it or leave it...it's your story.

[the_wolfs_howl]

(<-- This has quickly become my favorite smilie, by the way - who doesn't like dancing bananas?)

Anyway, thank you so much once again, Eso! You remind me a lot of my brother, who helps me with critiquing a lot. Your suggestions are helping me become a better writer, and I'll be eternally grateful for that.

[Esoteric]

:dance: (<-- This has quickly become my favorite smilie, by the way - who doesn't like dancing bananas?)

There's only one thing better than dancing bananas, and that's cosplay bananas! Oh wait, that's another story...

Anyway, thank you so much once again, Eso! You remind me a lot of my brother, who helps me with critiquing a lot. Your suggestions are helping me become a better writer, and I'll be eternally grateful for that.

Thank you, that's quite a compliment...unless you're brother is like mine, hehe! He can be brutally honest, and more than one story has withered under the sheer weight of his scrutiny. Alas, I've become a little gun shy about giving him stuff now.
Because of this experience, I try not to become too negative when critiquing stuff. But Lord knows I'm cut from the same cloth, so if I ever do get too heavy-handed with my comments, please let me know. Just say, "Dude, Eso, you're depressing me here!" and I'll totally understand. The last thing I'd want to do is discourage or depress someone from writing. Anyway, keep up the good work!

[the_wolfs_howl]

Okay, I'll be sure to mention it. My brother has been a little "withering" at times, but he's also been very helpful. Sometimes, though, when I talk to him I find my story going in places I'd never imagined. He's made me kill some characters from time to time, grinning evilly But my stories are always better after he goes through them, and he's quite encouraging too...like my dear Eso

[the_wolfs_howl]

Author's Note: I'm really glad I finished this part today, because tomorrow I'll be going out of town, and I'll be gone for a week. I expect critiques when I come back, Eso! Anyway, you might find this section boring, I dunno; it's mainly showing the passage of time. Hope you like it!

The encounter with the hunters had shaken Shard more than he liked to admit. For the first few days after their little adventure, Shard led them on a zig-zagging trail, just in case. Instead of playing with Shynael, he chose to watch the surrounding countryside instead, until Shynael (who seemed to have nearly forgotten the hunters already) complained that he was getting boring again. After several days with no sign of human life, however, Shard began to relax again.

By the end of the first week of Shard's acquaintence with Shynael, the baby dragon had already grown to roughly the size of a sheepdog. It almost seemed that every morning when Shard woke up, Shynael was larger than he had been the night before. At the end of the week, Shynael also ate the last of the meat Father Mark had supplied them with. Shard didn't look forward to announcing this, so he kept quiet.

Later in the day, however, something happened that eliminated all his worries. They had been walking along in no particular direction as usual, and Shynael bounded along on either side, frolicking about like a gigantic winged puppy. Suddenly he crouched low in the grass, and Shard stopped in surprise. Shynael's wings flattened onto the ground and his body pressed close against the dirt, his shiny black scales becoming hidden in the tall grass. For a few moments the world seemed to have come to a halt; Shard hardly dared to breathe as he watched his friend hide himself so stealthily.

Shynael suddenly sprang forward at least six feet, and Shard saw a small brownish object hurtle away from the tuft of grass Shynael had pounced on. Shynael streaked after the fleeing blur of brown fur, and Shard watched in amazement as the dragon chased it across the hills, maneuvering his lithe body with the same speed and agility he displayed in his games. With a sudden burst of speed, Shynael leapt in front of his prey, and with a flash of teeth, it was all over. He bounded over to Shard, carrying the carcass of a rabbit in his teeth. He dropped it onto the ground so he could speak, and said proudly, "What do you think of that?"

Shard grinned. "That was amazing!"

"Dragons are predatory, you know."

With that, food was no longer any problem to them. Shynael chased down rabbits, rodents, and other small creatures, always enough for both of them to be satisfied. Shard marveled at how much meat he began to eat. In the village, meat had been something of a luxury for him – something to be eaten on holidays, or occasionally on a Sunday spent with Father Mark. And now, here he was, eating meat three times a day. At first he wondered if he would get tired of always meat, meat, meat at every meal, but he never did. In fact, one day he tried some of the cheese he still had, and marveled at how salty, sour, and squishy it was. He had loved cheese before, but now he could hardly stomach it. Shard wondered how many other changes he would go through with Shynael as his friend.

Every night before he went to sleep, Shard would take out the small ivory cross he wore around his neck, and pray for his and Shynael's safety. He could never forget the hunters, or how desperate and afraid he had felt. He prayed for the hunters, prayed that he hadn't killed them, prayed that they would go home and not try to hunt dragons anymore. He prayed for Father Mark, and the villagers who had condemned him. And, as he had for years, he prayed for the souls of his mother and father.

One night, after Shard had crossed himself and put his ivory cross away, Shynael spoke up from where he lay by the dying embers of the fire. "You do that every night. What are you doing?"

"I'm praying."

"Oh, is that what praying is?" Shynael asked interestedly. "My mother mentioned it, but she didn't go into too much detail."

"Don't dragons pray?" Shard asked in surprise. True, he had never heard Shynael pray, but the thought that someone never prayed had never occurred to him before.

Shynael stared unblinkingly into the dying fire. "Dragons do not have a god."

Shard gaped at the dragon, too stunned to speak. No god? Shard had heard of the people of the West, who worshipped a false god (though they insisted he was the true god and Shard's God was the fake one), and the heathens of the North who believed in hundreds of gods, goddesses, and spirits. But never before had he heard of someone who had no god at all.

Shynael glanced at the look on Shard's face and rustled his wings uncomfortably. "Well, think about it," he said defensively. "All you humans have your gods, but we're not humans. We're dragons. So if you humans have a god, then we obviously cannot."

"That's utter nonsense!" Shard cried, a little more fiercely than he had intended. "You can't just deny God for such a stupid reason!"

Shynael rose up to a sitting position, saying angrily, "That's not the only reason, of course! Just look around you, why don't you? You see a god hanging up there in the sky? You hear him talking to you like I'm talking to you? I may not have been around for very long, but my mother told me that we dragons have been waiting for a thousand years for a god to reveal himself to us! And it's never happened; all we hear is silence. There is no god, Shard, or he would've shown up by now."

"You're wrong, Shynael," Shard replied softly. "Why don't you look around? Think about all those things you've told me you're so happy to see at last! Think of the stars! How could they be here unless God made them?"

Shynael didn't seem to know what to say to this, so he lay back down next to the fire. That night, he didn't snuggle up at Shard's side as usual. Somehow, this made Shard feel very cold.

Neither of them mentioned their disagreement again, and after a day or two the awkwardness it had produced wore off. Shard played games with Shynael again, even though he lost most of the time, and Shynael hunted for their meals. They ate, slept, walked, and told each other legends they had heard. In this manner, a month passed, by the end of which Shynael had grown to the size of a horse. Shard sometimes thought of the village, and Father Mark, but he had already walked farther than he had ever been in his life, and he knew there was no turning back now. Still, he was never sad for very long, for Shynael was his friend, and being friends with a dragon is enough to make anyone forget their sorrows.

[Esoteric]

O ho! Making demands now, are we? Lucky for you, I got off work early today so I have time right now...

you might find this section boring, I dunno; it's mainly showing the passage of time. Hope you like it!

Yeah, 'passage of time' sections can be tricky. I think it would be less boring if the first paragraph it didn't slip into 'telling' instead of 'showing'. By that I mean, I'd like to hear the conversation where Shynael is bugging Shard to play with him and asking about why they're still zig-zaging across the countryside days after the incident and see their interaction, rather than just be told about it.
I know I struggle with this too, but I think a reader is far less likely to get bored with a section if the writer wasn't. That puts the burden on the writer of course...finding ways to make dull sections interesting, even to themselves. Being a writer is sure tough sometimes!

I like how Shynael is catching his own meat now...it would certainly have been problematic for Shard having to feed such a monstrously growing animal!

I also liked how you segwayed into the conversation about gods with Shard praying. It cam across as believable. As to the subject of the conversation itself, I shall withhold comments until I get a better idea as to where you're going with this.

Well, I hope you had a fun trip! I'm sure I'll be hearing from you when you get back.

[the_wolfs_howl]

CloverG - Thank you for such a great compliment! "When" (read: if *hopes desperately*) it comes out in hardback, I'll be sure to send you a signed copy

Eso - Once again, thanks so much for your comments. You are truly contributing to my writing ability. I desperately hope you'll like where I'm going to be going with the belief in God/gods. I'm not expecting it to be a major part of the story, but you never know.

[Esoteric]

There sure is a lot of 'desperate hoping' going on! Relax. I'll be surprised if I don't like it. You have picked a hard theological topic, though. I know because I'm struggling with writing something similar. I just figured it would be best for me to reserve comments until I understood the relevance/importance of the subject to this story. Looking forward to more!

[the_wolfs_howl]

Yeah, I "desperately hope" too much ^^' But I assume you know the feeling: You write something and are reasonably satisfied with it, so you show it to someone. But suddenly, right after you send it off you get terrified that they'll just laugh at what you've written. Not always a legitimate fear, but there you are.

[the_wolfs_howl]

Author's Note: This section's a bit longer than usual. I just couldn't wrap things up sufficiently with a smaller section. For the first bit, I was initially intending it to just be a little incident that they'd laugh about and shrug off, but it escalated to this whole big huge thing. I dunno; maybe I went a little overboard? ^^'

"C'mon, c'mon! You can run faster than that!"

Shard wasn't sure he could, but he tried to put on a burst of speed. He had already been running for several minutes over the hills, and his legs were screaming for him to stop. He didn't have any more breath to call out to Shynael that he couldn't keep it up; all he could do was continue to run and hope Shynael would give up soon.

"Gotcha!" With a playful roar, Shynael sprang forward.

Shard only felt something hit him with the force of a running bull, and what little breath was left in his lungs gushed out. He supposed he must have blacked out, for there was a gap in his memory and the next thing he knew, he was looking up into Shynael's worried face.

"Shard? Shard! Oh good, you're not dead!" Shynael tried to laugh, but it came out as a squeak.

Groaning, Shard tried to sit up. Pain seared across the back of his ribs, and he fell back, biting his lip to keep from crying out. His breath was short, but he managed to gasp out, "What...What did you do, Shynael?"

"I-I'm sorry," Shynael stammered, backing out of Shard's line of vision. "I...didn't mean to...."

Shard squeezed his eyes shut. "Great. Just great. For all we know...you might've broken all my ribs!"

Shynael made a strange, gulping sound and then fell silent. When he didn't say anything for almost half a minute, Shard opened his eyes in surprise and turned his head to the left. Shynael had completely disappeared. "Shynael?" Shard looked as far as he could from his position on the ground, but nowhere could he see the black dragon who had been his only friend the past few weeks. "Shynael!" he called weakly, but when he drew breath to call louder, pain raced up his ribs again.

Tears welled up in his eyes, brought about by his aching ribs and the sudden emptiness in the air around him, the emptiness that Shynael used to fill. He's gone, Shard thought, wincing as his ribs twinged again. Just like that. He's gone just as suddenly as he came. I wanted him to go before, so I could return to something of a normal life. But now that he's gone...I just want him back.

The tears running down his cheeks seemed to get hotter and hotter, and he almost imagined he could see the steam rising up from them. The pain in his ribs moved from a dull ache to sharp agony that felt as though he was burning up from the inside. Shard wanted to sob and scream, but instead he clenched his teeth, gripped the grass beneath him as hard as he could, and bore the pain. He couldn't even think about Shynael anymore; his mind was taken over by the pressing need to suffer through the flames that were eating at his flesh. He could even see the flames now, clouding his eyes with their red tongues, until all he could see was a deep, blood-red expanse. He could smell the smoke, and he could hear the dull grunts that escaped his throat. Shard wasn't even sure anymore if he was still alive. Perhaps this was hell, or purgatory at the very least.

A bestial snarl curled his lips back from his teeth as a voice rang through his mind: There is no god. So it follows that there is no hell, either.

"You're wrong," a small, weak voice whimpered. It took Shard a few moments to realize that he was the one who had said it. As soon as he had realized this, he began to mutter a prayer Father Mark had once said over him as he lay on his cot, suffering a high fever. While it did not take the pain away, it lightened his heart a little. He could still feel his fists clenched around tufts of grass, could still feel the sharp, real pain of his wound. I'm still alive. He held onto that thought as a roar tore his throat in response to the ever-growing wave of pain that drowned him.

For a long time, he could only see that red emptiness. But then it seemed to thin and separate, like a fog lifting from the ground or the clouds moving away from the sun. Instead of a burning ball of light, however, Shard found himself looking up once again into the face of his dragon companion. "Shynael!" he tried to cry, and heard instead a hoarse whisper.

Shynael uttered a sort of crooning noise, and rubbed his scaly head along Shard's cheek. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Shard found he couldn't voice a reply with his weak voice, so instead he raised his arm and fondly rubbed Shynael's snout. As he did so, he realized that the pain was almost completely gone, replaced only by a strange stiffness in one area of his back.

"It's...healed now," Shynael said in a subdued voice.

Healed.... So I must have been lying here for quite some time, unconscious. Days, weeks even. With Shynael's help, Shard managed to sit upright and experimentally twisted his torso about, relieved that the pain was finally gone. He brushed a tuft of hair out of his face, and felt his cold, clammy skin with a shaking hand. His entire body felt drained and weak, and it was all he could do to reach for his pack and take a gulp of water. He leaned against Shynael's warm side, and the dragon curled his neck protectively about his friend. Shard laid his hand on Shynael's head, meaning to tell him he was not angry, but he fell asleep before he could find the words. Shynael snuggled around Shard and began to purr, closing his eyes as well. He decided not to tell his human friend that all this had only taken one hour.

----------

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Shynael."

"'Cause you can ride on my back if you want. I won't mind."

"Really, I'm fine. My throat's sore, and my eyes hurt, but other than that I feel great."

"Well, don't blame me if you collapse in an hour."

Shard laughed. After a long, restful sleep (Shynael had finally woken him around midday), he felt as strong as he ever had, if not stronger. Shynael's concerns, which he realized later were quite understandable, seemed almost laughable to him now. "You sound like a worried mother," he chuckled.

"Are you calling me a 'she'?!" Shynael playfully headbutted him, but much gentler than he would have before. He seemed to be very conscious of his strength. Shard supposed he would be, too, if his friend had been hurt because of it.

Shynael didn't mention playing any games, and even stopped sniffing and exploring as he had been wont to do before. Shard could hardly believe this was the dragon he knew; he was so solemn and quiet now. Shynael merely walked forward, looking thoughtful and perhaps a little sad, only turning aside to hunt for their meals. As the two of them licked the last of the meat off the bones that evening, Shard spoke up.

"You're awfully boring now, you know?" he said with a sly smile. "C'mon, let's play something!"

"Y-You want to?" Shynael asked in surprise, his head lifting slightly.

"Of course I do!"

A grin flashed across Shynael's face. "Then let's play that one you were telling me about the other day! Shynael Says, 'Jump up and down!'"

If there had been anyone to see them, Shard might have felt self-conscious. As it was, he enjoyed the return to childhood playfulness. As he was imitating a chipmunk (because Shynael Said so), he wondered if he would have been this happy back in the village. This thought startled him so much that Shynael caught him off guard next time, and it was Shard's turn to be It. Even as Shard Said, "Play dead!" he thought about it. Back in the village, his enjoyment came from being with Father Mark, or reading the holy scriptures, or listening to folk tales around the village bonfire. That sort of enjoyment was a solemn, grown-up sort of happiness, and now his pleasure and happiness came from playing games he would have called childish a month ago. Was he happier this way? Now that he thought of it, he smiled and laughed more often with Shynael than he had with Father Mark or the other villagers. Village life had been hard and serious, but now that he was wandering about with no destination, his life had become almost carefree.

Struck with a sudden idea, he called out, "Shard Says, 'Breathe fire!'"

Shynael looked at him with surprise. "What did you say?"

Shard grinned. "You heard me. But the game's over now; you didn't do what Shard Said."

"That's not fair!" Shynael complained. "I didn't make you do something like that!"

"Well, I'm not a dragon, am I? I've heard so many stories of dragons breathing fire; surely you can too."

"I guess I could try...." Shynael said uncertainly, turning to the side. He took a deep breath and made strange gulping sounds in his throat. Then he opened his mouth and made a clicking noise. Shard thought he saw sparks briefly in the darkness of Shynael's mouth, but there was no fire. Shynael made the clicking noise a few more times, then let out an irritated huff. "See, I told you!" he rounded on Shard. "I've only been hatched for a month, you know! My epiglottal flint must not be hard enough," he added thoughtfully, lying down next to their campfire and staring into the flames longingly.

Shard sat down at his side and absently rubbed his fingers across Shynael's smooth scales. He loved the feel of them: smooth and almost oily, just like obsidian. Each scale was now the size of his thumb. Presently, Shard noticed something rough and leathery brushing against his back. Glancing over, he saw one of Shynael's large, bat-like wings. "Hey, Shynael," he said, "do you think you could fly?"

Shynael's head immediately came up, his yellow eyes alight with excitement. "I could try...."

[the_wolfs_howl]

The land had been rising steadily over the past month, the hills becoming steeper and higher than before. Shard realized for the first time that they were heading due north, towards the Headland Mountains. The mountains were still far off, a mere smudge on the horizon, but the land was gradually rising to meet them. There were even a few cliffs and gullies close-by. Shard and Shynael headed over to the nearest one as soon as it was light the next day. They reached the top in time for a midday meal, and after resting for half an hour ("My mother told me not to do any strenuous excersize right after eating."), Shynael approached the edge of the cliff.

Fear and excitement mingled on his face and in his eyes. Shard briefly rubbed Shynael's snout and said, "You'll be fine. I know you can do it."

Shynael snorted, and Shard thought he saw faint puffs of smoke rising from his nostrils. Rolling his eyes, Shynael said confidently, "Of course I can do it. My mother told me all about flying, down to the tiniest details."

Shard wondered from time to time if Shynael's mother had ever stopped talking to him, but he didn't say it out loud. Instead, he gave Shynael one last comforting pat and backed away to give him room.

Shynael unfurled his wings, which had grown to almost twice his body length, and held them out like the sails of a ship. Gathering his strength, he paused for a moment on the lip of the cliff, then leapt off. He immediately plummeted downward, and Shard rushed to the edge in horror. It was a long way down, and Shynael had begun to nosedive. Dropping to his knees, Shard fervently cried, "Saint Christopher! Spare him!"

Even as he hastily crossed himself, an updraft of air caught Shynael's spread wings, and he soared upward with greater speed than he had fallen. Shynael flapped his wings once, and sped forward with a delighted whoop that was carried back to Shard on the wind. Shard let out a relieved breath and watched his friend make loops and tight turns in the air, diving and pulling back up, tilting his wings and swishing his long tail to control his movement. Shard almost felt that he was up there too, soaring through the air. His worried frown smoothed out into a smile of contentment to see his friend moving so gracefully through the air. Dragons are meant to be in the sky, soaring and dipping like birds in the air or fish in the water, symbols of grace and beauty that inspire king and peasant alike. Shynael was finally in his element.

[~darkelfgirl~]

Yeah, I "desperately hope" too much ^^' But I assume you know the feeling: You write something and are reasonably satisfied with it, so you show it to someone. But suddenly, right after you send it off you get terrified that they'll just laugh at what you've written. Not always a legitimate fear, but there you are.

well I know u were talking to Eso about that but same with me!

your story's great so far, so don't let the fear eat you up. i did that, and now i'm completely blocked from trying to make my stories as exciting as possible (self-induced writer's block as you say)

[the_wolfs_howl]

Thanks, anonymous! I'm glad you liked it.

And we are on the same page, darkelfgirl. I encourage you to continue with your writing regardless of any worries you might have. If you don't try, you won't succeed, right? And I've found that a helpful cure for self-induced writer's blocks is to simply write the story. The inspiration comes while you write.

[Esoteric]

Wow, I must say I like the progression of this section very much! It develops the relationship very well. There just isn't much I can complain about

Shard squeezed his eyes shut. "Great. Just great. For all we know...you might've broken all my ribs!"

Might've? Hehe. Still, it's a bit long-winded of a response when even breathing would hurt. "Just great. I think you broke every rib!" or something similarly short and blunt, would work better.

Shard found he couldn't voice a reply with his weak voice...

One of the 'voices' should go.

"It's...healed now," Shynael said in a subdued voice.

Hmmm... so was it Shynael who healed him? You've cleverly left the situation cryptic...with that inner voice and all. It could've been Shynael...or some manner of split subconscious personality developing in Shard. I'm curious as to why Shynael didn't want to tell him he'd healed in just an hour. Of course, if Shard had taken the time to really think about it, he would've realized he couldn't have been lying there for days. Besides, broken ribs normally take months to heal. heh, well it looks like I did find something to complain about after all, huh? Oh well.

Oh, and it's just a thought, but perhaps Shard should question Shynael's jumping off a cliff for his first flight attempt...but Shynael could fearlessly insist (perhaps his mother told him it was the best way? LOL). I dunno, but I sure wouldn't want to test my parachute by jumping out of airplane, if you know what I mean. But I can certainly see Shynael doing that. XD

And I've found that a helpful cure for self-induced writer's blocks is to simply write the story. The inspiration comes while you write.

Amen to that! That's some good advice she gave you, ~darkelfgirl~. Go for it!

[the_wolfs_howl]

Thanks for the tips, Eso! I know the whole thing about Shard getting healed was a little weird and unexplained, but I'm not quite sure how to go about explaining it. Maybe I'll just leave it a sort of mystery until things are revealed later. Or should I have made Shard wonder more about how he got healed?

I'm feeling inspired, so maybe I'll write some of the next bit today.