The Child of Cataclysm

Chapter 1

Snap

Martier's eyes shot open. Moving slowly, he raised his head and looked around. He was in a small clearing in the middle of a forest, surrounded on all sides by undergrowth. Next to him in the middle of the clearing was the smoldering remains of a campfire.

Still moving slowly, Martier sat up in his bedroll, the wool blanket falling from his torso, revealing a strong chest (if he said so himself) covered with scars and hardened muscles and flanked by broad shoulders. Tattooed on his chest, over his heart, was the silhouette of a dragon head with two S-shaped horns. He warily looked around. At one side of the clearing, his robe and tunic were hooked on a low hanging branch, a large leather saddle hanging next to them. Beside him were his short sword, shield, daggers, and the rest of his equipment.

Everything was still in place. Except for one thing...

Snap

Martier's head swung in the direction of the sound. Brown eyes studiously scanned the undergrowth until he saw them.

Two lazurite lizard eyes staring at him...watching him.

Martier sighed in annoyance and grabbed his boots.

"Skirin!" he snapped, tugging his boots on, "Don't scare me like that!"

The dragon emerged from the bushes and rose to his full height, chortling.

The dragon was 8 feet tall at the shoulder, with a thick neck roughly 4 feet long. The membrane in his wings was yellow and his scales were crimson with a ruby-red underbelly. Black scales made up the border between the lighter scales and the darker ones. His head had seven ivory horns: A single row of three in the middle of his forehead and the other four separated into two rows on either side of his head.

"I'm being serious!" Martier scolded, standing up, "what if there actually was an enemy approaching and I thought it was you?" In response, Skirin padded out of the bushes, coiled around Martier, and nudged him with his snout.

"Wha- You want a treat after that?!" Martier exclaimed.

The dragon just blinked slowly at him. "...fine..." Martier grumbled, stepping over Skirin's tail so he could get to his bag. The dragon, being the miscreant he is, lifted his tail at the last moment in an attempt to trip him. Martier, however, expected the move and hopped over the appendage. "Nice try," he chided, smiling, as he continued walking to his bag. Skirin snorted and laid his head on his front paws.

Martier slipped on the tunic, pulled his robe off the branch, and pulled it over his head before stooping down to ruffle through his sack. "Hmm, sorry bud. Looks like we're out," Martier said as he continued sorting through the bag. "In fact...it seems we're out of a lot of things," he observed, straightening back up.

A growl was Skirin's response.

"Hey, I don't like going into town either, but we need to restock our supplies."

Skirin let out a huff as he sat up and looked away. Martier sighed and slung the pack over his shoulder. He kicked the ashes of his fire (after making sure it wouldn't burn him) to scatter any signs of him being here before picking up his gear and packing his bedroll.

"Alright, let's go," he said once he was sure everything was accounted for, grabbing the leather saddle. Skirin grumbled a final complaint as he lowered his body to the ground so Martier could sling the saddle over his back. Before he could, however, the dragon's stomach growled loudly. Martier froze.

"...Why didn't you hunt beforehand?"

Skirin gave him a sheepish look. Martier sighed. "Alright, go catch something to eat," he said, "I'll meet you at the stream." Skirin smiled before leaping into the sky and disappearing from sight over the trees.