The Ember of Life

Chapter 7

Jet wrapped some quilts woven from vines about her darling egg, and rose to leave the hut. She had to face the other Charred eventually, even though her conversation with Pitch had sapped her patience. She sighed. Maybe they would surprise her. Maybe they would apologize and promise to treat her and her husband better. A rather grim smile crept up the corners of her mouth. It was unlikely.

She stepped out of the little hut firmly, her claws sinking into bark. From her vantage point, she could see the thatched roofs of the village through some of the shorter trees. Jet heaved a sigh as she teetered hesitantly on the edge of the limb. She dove off, plummeting downwards. She spread her wings at the last second and dropped gracefully to the smooth dirt at the center of the village. Their town was small, only a few rings of buildings surrounding a rough town square. But it was home. No, Jet corrected herself. It had been home. A dragon with faint red tints to his dark scales emerged from one of the huts and slid over to her.

"Good morning, Jet," Obsidian said with a smile.

Jet snorted out a burst of green flame and her eyes narrowed. "How dare you speak to me, you wretch." She was turning away when he set a claw on her shoulder. Furious, she swatted him off her.

"Jet, my dear," he said, "I was just doing the will of the Charred."

"The will of the Charred was stupid," Jet snarled. "And that doesn't excuse you from throwing my husband out."

Obsidian grimaced. "Bold as ever, aren't you? So I threw your husband out. He failed." His red eyes were cold. "Failure isn't acceptable."

"Ebony was only trying to help that Green. Maybe he made a mistake in showing him our Ember, but a mistake doesn't deserve exile," Jet growled.

Obsidian shook his narrow head. "You see, leaders cannot afford to make mistakes. Everyone sees their failures."

"And when they see them, do they lose their sense of tolerance? Of forgiveness?" She lashed her tail, stirring up the dust of the town square.

"Whether or not you like it, Jet, we did the right thing yesterday," he said impressively. "I feel that we did. I know that we did." With that, he turned and strode along the path through the village.

Jet sighed, lowering her head. Why was public opinion against her Ebony? What had he done that everyone was so willing to get rid of him? She had thought that the Charred had loved their leader. But...she glanced around at the desolate village. No one seemed to care. No one had come to comfort her besides Pitch. Even in her most vulnerable moments, Jet, standing in the center of her town, her village, her home, had never felt so alone.

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The darkness was cold, wet, and filled with the sound of water rushing. That's odd, Ebony thought. I thought I died on the Wastes. There's no water there. He ripped his eyelids open and stared around him. He could see nothing, no matter how hard he strained his eyes. The noise of water still filled his ears. Cautiously, he reached out a claw to find it. As he felt along the rough sand he lay on, his claw dropped over a lip and plunged into cool liquid.

Water? Where in the world am I? he wondered, delicately flicking out his forked tongue to drink. Did...did the gennyid do this?

There was a rumbling, and smooth, hard plates rubbed up against his scales as ten glowing eyes peered curiously at him.

"Good worm!!" Ebony praised, trying to pat its head in the dark. "You saved me, pal!"

He found its hard head and rubbed it roughly. The gennyid squeaked in what he hoped was pleasure, butting him playfully - which sent him against a wall. He sat up, rubbing his side. Ow, the creature packed a punch.