ARYSARNIA

HERALD OF WOE

3 YEARS LATER

It was morning again; she realised regrettably, but it was not as if she had any power to hold the night. She tossed and moaned in bed and realised the reason for her discomfort was Exul trampling all over her. She opened her eyes halfway to look at her dragon; Exul's little ivory tusks were now larger, its wings were like an Eagle's and its size that of a tiger; its temper no different. The dragon had also grown thick green fur in place of the soft skin it had as a cub. It had only been a few moons. It proved that some dragons might be born with little or no scales; Exul was unique.
"You are a dragon living with me in a tent; it seems I am pampering you too much. I might end up taming you if we go on like this. From now onwards, you sleep in the woods. I will  train you until you start breathing fire", said Crysarnia, "I know it's going to be tough leaving you there in the woods all alone but I'm tougher. You pick up a thing or two when you are training under the son of Orbarion Cynthalith".

Exul stretched its neck and mimicked fire breathing, which caused her to laugh. "That'll take a while though, not until you're fully grown", Crysarnia said while stroking Exul's curls, her eyes lighted up when she daydreamed of the day she would ride her dragon as it spewed flames. She felt a drain from her palms-Exul staggered backward choking. When the dragon's endurance was spent, it spewed a spring of fire into the tent.

"Holy Thyeseus! Not now" Crysarnia screamed running out of the tent for dear life.

"And this would be the third tent you've burnt this year in three moons" Astinux said standing before the dying embers of the fire.

"Actually, it's the fourth tent", Crysarnia said.

Astinux was baffled.

"Don't you remember?"

Then Astinux recalled that afternoon...

It had flowered on all the branches with bright yellow inflorescence attracting countless insects and butterflies. The trees in that part of the forest only flowered for a few weeks in that month and this made his sanctuary of peace much more magical.

For him, art was every part of the forest; like the sensitive trees at the deeper parts, whose branches never touched each other. An observer looking up into the trees would see a beautiful mosaic in the branches. He even came to believe that beauty attracted beauty due to the creatures that frequented there.

As for him, even in the midst of all the breath-taking beauty of nature there was one creature which fascinated him even more than the colourful birds of his paradise or even the graceful deer that passed by him almost unaware of his presence... Crysarnia.

She had been the inspiration behind all his sketches; he would always start by drawing Crysarnia before putting other things in the background. That afternoon he had sketched Crysarnia swinging on vines and flowers, clothed with leaves and flowers with a contented smile on her face. He was halfway through with the background, which was the beautiful scenery of the forest when it occurred to him he had to go back to the camp.

On arrival he hid his drawings in the box beside the tent that he shared with Ardal and a couple of other soldiers,which no one seemed to notice. He decided to go and practice on his swordsmanship with the second in command to Cariman. They had become quite close over the weeks since he seemed to have taken to Astinux and had offered to help him become better at the sword. Other soldiers became mildly envious and branded him an ambitious heart who wanted to take over the army. On one occasion, he had asked that Ardal should be included in his special tutorials and the general had obliged.

He was going to get Ardal when he heard noises, excited grunts, deep breathing and suppressed moans coming from the obscured place behind his tent. At first, he had thought that it was Rosalie, the well-known scarlet woman of the camp with a soldier behind the tent. When curiosity made him peek, he saw the back of a dark haired soldier with his breeches pulled down to his ankles with his naked half on top of  another completely naked whose face he could barely make out, writhing with passion in the bushes.