Predator [ON HOLD INDEFINIETLY]

1: The Dragons

"The best dragon tamer in the world."

"You won't see anything else like it . . ."

"You've got to experience it for yourself, laddie."

"There she is now . . ."

I'm used to hearing these things wherever I go. It got annoying after the first few months. However, after twelve and a half years, I've become immune to the praises and impressed grins of strangers.

My mud and dragon dung encrusted boots crunch on the cobblestones with a finality that silences the people on the streets. I no longer feel the stares on me, but I know they're there anyway. My burgundy coat tails flap behind me as I walk with purpose. My breeches stretch comfortably along my legs and stomach even as the dust and dirt ingrained in the material chafes my skin. My whip is coiled and strung through my belt loop. Some think it is for my insubordinates. Some say it's for the dragons I tame. Some even claim it's for my own lecherous purposes.

I am all alone. All I have are the dragons.

I turn and stop in front of a street booth, feet slightly apart, stance solid, face blank. My hands find their ways into my coat pockets. With a subtle flick of my head, my heavy hood falls back. My face was obscured, yet all the townspeople recognized me.

"Mendel."

The man in the booth turns to glance at me over his shoulder.

"Jale."

"Have my packages come in yet?"

Mendel faces me. His smock is covered with stains, stiff with grease. Dirt smears over his skin like paint. His hair is a nest of knots and his eyes are big and dark. "You came to me with that question yesterday and the day before that and even the one before. And I shall answer you in the same way: no. They are not to arrive for another month."

"I don't have a month, Mendel."

"I cannot magically make them appear, Jale."

"Who is delivering my orders?"

"I told you, lassie. The foreman himself."

"Thank you."

"Good day, madam."

I turn and walk back the way I came. The busy lives on the cobblestone streets separate for me as they always do. I flip my hood back up to hide my face and stuff my hands back into my pockets.

I am alone. All I have are the dragons.

* * *

"We have been brought a new one today, Tamer."

I don't blink. "What would you have me do?"

"Tame them, as usual."

"What is it this time?"

"A gargoyle."

"When would you like me to start?"

"Tomorrow morning if you will, Jale."

"Yes, sir. Good day."

* * *

The ground beneath my feet is trembling, but it the most solid thing in this horribly surging world. The sky, the horizon, is teeming with wings and white-hot fire. Blue streaks paint the heavens and the earth glows with blood-red. The screams of the dragons pierce my ears, shattering, keening. Lonely.

My white shift flaps crazily, whipping my bare legs and my fair hair catches on my sticky lips and dripping teeth. I stare at my arms, covered in green-gray scales, red drops soiling my clothing, salty and metallic on my tongue. Burning and blistering my skin: dragon blood.