A New Perspective of the Far Off Future

Helping a Stranger

The infant screamed. His voice hurt from all the yelling, but he didn't know what else to do. In his inexperience, all he did was yell, his massive feet frantically pounding the earth as paced back and forth around her body. No! Not her body. He wrapped his trunk around his mother's, tugging in vain.

Her eyes rolled in pain, her legs long since collapsed. Her infant dropped her trunk, turning as he heard his cries answered. "Here! Help!" he shouted. Their "language"—if it could even be called that—was simple and wordless. But the stranger had heard and understood.

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She heard the cries of a desperate calf, calling out to help. She could tell it was urgent. That was why, in the midst of her feeding she had stopped everything and moved towards the screaming, dragging her own confused calf along with her. Now, as she stretched out her trunk to answer those cries, she was close enough to smell the blood. Her eyes were poor, now only able to make out the infant charging towards her. Her own calf faltered beside her, uncertain and scared by the stranger but more terrified of the blood that permeated the air.

But she ignored her calf, trusting that she would catch up. There were more pressing matters to attend to. She slowed her charge, trunk gently caressing the infant's head as she finally met up with him. She pushed him behind her in what was meant to be a comforting gesture as she moved ahead to investigate.

She could see the female, the mother lying unnaturally on her side, her breathing both labored and shallow. She ignored the panicked cries of this female's calf as she ran her trunk comfortingly along the mother's side. She slowed her touch down as she felt the bulge of a calf yet to be born. Her trunk tip probed all the way down to the other female's genitals, worried at the dryness she felt but most concerned by the stench of blood when there was none to be found.

"Be back," the mother said to her own calf with a high-pitched, soothing call. She turned from her calf then, trunk taking in all the smells of the air. She moved through the open fields, short arches of whistling trees poking up here and there among the smaller grass-like plants. She found the plant she was looking for, recognizing its sharp, distinctive smell. She carefully gripped a bundle of leaves off the short stems in her trunk tip, folding her finger back to pinch the stalks against her keratin knob. She pulled gently, careful not to destroy the plants as she turned to walk the short distance back, her steps hurried.

She took in a sharp gasp of air as she finally reached the dying mother and released the plants to the ground. She turned back to the panicked infant and her own daughter. She quickly held up one of the stalks and placed it in her mouth, chewing vigorously. "Eat," she rumbled to her daughter as the other calf walked forward, trunk stretching out to taste some of what was in the mother's mouth. Her mother pulled back, shaking her head threateningly. "Go," she ordered, the daughter understanding and leaving to seek out more of the plant.

With that done, she sniffed at the air with her trunk, raising it into the wind. She smelled this new, earthy plant and moved off to find it, long strides carrying her quickly. And there at the edges of the forest, with its long bamboo-like trees rising into the sky, that she saw the moss growing at its base. She had to kneel down, taking care to avoid the stinger projecting from long stalk, so her trunk could reach the low-lying moss. With her tusks unable to reach, she had to scrape at the ground with her keratinous spines, using the powerful trunk finger to grip the edges of the plant and rip a whole clump free.

She would gone searching for more, but there was no time for that. She could send her daughter to collect more when she got back. As she returned to the ailing female, she cast the infant a pitiful glance before turning back to his mother. She gingerly pressed one small and hidden tusk to the female's abdomen, feeling for the right spot. I'm sorry, she thought once before jerking her head forward and stabbing deep into the mother's abdomen. Blood poured out in a wave, as if just being released from the dam.

The bleeding female let out a pained moan, her legs jerking from the sharp pain. The infant screamed in shock, running forward to try and save his mother from this stranger. But she was able to keep the scared infant at bay with her immense bulk, using her rump and pillar-like legs to keep him back. She waited a moment for most this excess blood to flow out before packing what little moss she had into the injury. 

It was then she glanced back as her own daughter rumbled a warning as she returned, gingerly caring the plant stems. She took the stems from her daughter, setting them down briefly as she now gestured to the moss and dirt crumbling from the wound. She ripped off the smallest and cleanest piece (which was hard since the moss was rapidly soaking up the blood) and held it out to her daughter. "Go," she rumbled again, putting even more urgency into this new command.

As her daughter sniffed the air and ran off again in search of more moss, she gingerly picked up the plant and moved to the bleeding female's mouth. "Get up," she rumbled, nudging the female to wake her. Her eyes rolled in pain but she managed to weakly focus on the stranger. The plants were dropped in her mouth and she managed to chew weakly, rumbling and moaning her pain. She helped by tilting the other mother's head back and massaging the throat, not returning to her abdomen until she was sure she had swallowed the medicine.

She pulled the bloody moss from the wound, blood continuing to trickle out. This had to be done fast and before her daughter returned with more moss. She reached her trunk inside, carefully feeling for it. She let out a sad, depressed rumble as she couldn't feel the pulsing beat of its heart. She callously ripped it from the wound, dropping the dead embryo to the ground. It was so small and pink, but fully formed for a dragon newborn. It was probably its impending birth that had caused this attack on its mother, the blood-filled organs of her reproductive organs failing to release all that blood and blocking the the exit of her birth canal.

As her daughter returned, she gingerly took the moss from her and packed more of it in the wound to absorb the last of the blood. Realizing this mother should now be fine, having just escaped the slow and immediate death from blood loss or sepsis, she turned back to the infant, letting out small, soothing contact calls. She then called to her own calf and started to trudge back across the land, her daughter in tow.