From the eyes of a dragon

Chapter 2: Recovery

She slept fitfully, drifting from islands of calm to storms of turmoil. She did not wake but slid back and forth from sleep to lucid dreams. Her mind replayed the day in a trillion different ways, colours and perspectives.

In one variation, she saw the world through and thick golden haze. It was like walking through honey and when she took flight, the sensation was not dissimilar to swimming. In another, it was raining, and the air was crisp and cold. From up in the sky, Sylkryzyrlyn watched a dragon fight break out, but she was powerless to help as she could only fly forever upwards. A different iteration was not even from her eyes but of ones far above, so high up that they appeared like ant. She watched her performance, and her and Vylzyrththir's reaction to the draw verdict. It looked so small and unimportant in the grand scale of things, but her heart was stung every time she was forced to rewatch Vylzyrththir curse her. But throughout all of this, she felt a great presence around her, flying when she flew, standing behind her when she confronted by Vylzyrththir, and rearing up in indignation when he was raving at her.

***

She awoke in the same darkness. She was still tired but her exhaustion had dissipated. She lifted her head of the ground and felt the coagulated blood crack as her scales moved. Carefully and slowly, she scratched it of her white scales, until no trace of her green blood and mud made of a tear and blood remained. Tentatively, she lifted her wing, so that a chink the width of her leg was between her wings and dirt. No light seeped through. (It must be night), she thought. She allowed her wings to drop back. She began to stretch. This helped her to ground herself as well as move her tested muscles. Finally, after gathering her thoughts enough to think cohesively, she unfurled her wings and unobscured her face.

Above her was a great grey wing, darkest at the base and lightest at the tip. A first she was confused and disoriented, but the longer she gazed at it, the more familiar it became. Dark at the base and light at the extremities, typical of a (mountain) dragon. Thick wings, so thick that light can't permeate it, typical of a (mountain) dragon. Caring for a lost (crossbreed), atypical of a (mountain) dragon. Sylkryzyrlyn was touched by gesture of protection. It would take dedication to hold his wing over her as she slept. She kept herself still for a second, before snuggling up to Vyltharys' body. She felt him tense on contact and draw in a deep breath. He dropped his wing into her, and then around her, drawing her closer to his body, forming a smooth muscular blanket. He then moved closer to her, the warmth of their bodies mixing. She sighed contently, clinging onto the temporary happiness and sense of belonging. They spent some time in this embrace, two friends protecting each other with their presence, one showing the world a brave face, the other amending the past, both enjoying the closeness of a parent they never had.

Sylkryzyrlyn found herself humming a simple 4 part repeating melody. She knew it was from her youngest years but the words that went with it alluded her. After three repeats, Vyltharys joined in, and together they were humming a deep and resonate harmony. Such moments of indiscriminate togetherness where rare in the dragon-eat-dragon world. Finally, after a long-drawn-out repetition they both stopped.

Tentative peace washed over them. The prior day's events still occupied her mind, but only in background. The newfound silence left them back to the quiet of their minds.

"(Thank you)," she murmured softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "(For... for everything.)" There was a brief twitch in the regular rising and falling of Vyltharys' side. He drew in a shaky breath and whispered back: [insert emotional speech here], his voice heavy with emotion. When he spoke, she felt the vibrations in his chest.