In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 42: Of Humans and ETs

Doora alighted on the bank of the creek, her powerful throat parched from thirst, and eagerly stretched the delicate webbing of her wings. She took care not to entangle them in the lazy boughs of the sheltering bolberrry trees, where thorns might pierce the delicate, parchment-like material that stretched between her thin, bird-like wing bones and cause painful sores.

Although younger and smaller than her three sisters, Doora still was a formidable specimen: star-light scintillated off of her reseda scales in brilliant hues of alternating cobalt and ivory. Her tail, which was thick enough to sweep a careless bull off its feet, jutted out behind her muscular body for balance as she submerged her entire head beneath the delicate waters, from which thin tendrils of morning mist snaked from the surface like oyster-colored worms. Frightened minnows darted away from Doora's waiting jaws in jaunty specks of henna and crocus, though she did manage to skewer a few of them on the tips of her dagger-like teeth. To Doora, who'd eaten nothing but stripped water-fruits for the past few days, the lissom taste of flesh was felicitous to her broad tongue.

Then she gulped a mouthful of water and snatched her head from the creek in both shock and alarm. Backing away onto tendon-rippled haunches, Doora swung her head as though trying to rid it of a painful parasite and thrashed her wings in alarm, sending scores of nettled fruit birds away from their nests and into the air. Doora could not help herself; she crouched low to the grass, which was still kissed with diamond-like drops of dew from the early morning, and thundered her confusion.

"Alas!" Doora's oldest sister, Duscha, fluttered down from their massive shelter and accosted the younger Draca with her superior strength, extending her own head and neck over her bellowing sibling's scaly back until she had succeeded in pinning Doora to the ground. "Careless one, indeed! Do you want to terrify half the animals and send the People from Looks Thrice into the forest with pitchforks to kill us all?"

Doora bellowed helplessly and submitted beneath her sister's superior strength. "I cannot help it!" she cried, in a voice as exquisite as the ring of a bell. "I tasted the water this morning, Duscha. It tastes-- different. Metallic. Almost as though it were alive, and the freshness from it is gone. Something is not right, I tell you!"

"Just the same!" Duscha admonished, snapping her jaws angrily into Doora's face. "You cannot bay like a bull in heat. The People of Looks Thrice accept our presence-- but they do not want us here. But for the Star-Child, which they know we must protect, we cannot have them finding an excuse to come into Hallow's Wood to rid the place of us!"

Doora lowered her head and yipped miserably, crystalline tears obscuring the beautiful lotus color of her eyes; she seemed genuinely remorseful for her transgression. "But they would never hurt us--"

"Do not put anything past the likes of the Evening Folk!' snarled Duscha. "Except for the Star-Child, we cannot trust them. If they come charging into the forest with bolas and weapons, we will have no way to defend ourselves. Having pledged to protect Ziuta from harm, we will be unable to leave...and since we have promised her not to kill any more People, we will be forced to succumb to their wrath. You ought to be ashamed!" These last words ended in an admonishing chitter as Duscha spread her own wings, preparing to approach the water. From their perches high above in the bolberry tree, Deema and Deesha observed with quiet interest.

"Tase the water, Sister," Doora begged quietly, huddling close to the grass in shame and wrapping her thick tail around her body for comfort. "I tell you with all honesty in my heart; something approaches...something unfamiliar."

Braying softly with impatience, Duscha lowered her head to the water, took a few long dregs, then snorted in discomfort and backed away from the bank as though she had ingested a mouthful of venom. Identical sprays of foamy water shot from her wide nostrils as Duscha waved her head from side to side and puffed in discomfort.