In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In the Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 61: No Way to Flee

The boy who had been called Tuchek was buried by dawn.

Duscha, mourning and large emerald eyes sparkling with tears, had used her powerful claws to rake out a section of earth about four feet deep. Into this shallow grave the remains of Tuchek's poor body were carefully lain by sisters Disha and Deema, after which the Draca lifted their snouts to the sky in a long, keening wail that could be heard all throughout Hallow's Wood and clear to the other side of the Ice-Capped mountains.

Only Doora, disgraced by her cowardly act and now shunned by her elder sisters for breaking the Star-Child's specific promise, cowered in the light chill of the early morn. Her wings, battered and wounded, had slowly begun to heal, but they would never be the same again. Not only would they fail to carry her aloft into the skies, but the wind would forever chafe at the torn parchment skin, which would never grow together again. Her broken bones healed lopsidedly and with much pain, and the once-lubricated joints that had borne her weight so effortlessly were now as dessicated as summer heat. The cool wind stung at them, teasing, torturing.

Why, oh why, did I give in to my dragon's nature? Are not the Draca different than the earth dragons that roam the forests, or the water-draga that swim in the streams? Are we not better for having the pure Evening folk as mothers? Are we not all the more blessed for having the intelligence, the beauty, and the sonorous voices of the beasts of lore? And yet--

Doora lowered her head onto her paws like a defeated dog. Her punishment, she knew, would be swift and sure. No amount of pleading, supplications, or promises that she would never again overstep her boundaries would sway the hard-hearted Duscha to spare her life. The Eldest had always been the practical one, the strict one, the Mother who was not a Mother (in order to care for her sisters in the way that Dragura, the malevolent woman who had given them birth, never would). No crime went undisciplined-- and this was not just any infraction.

This had been a killing.

Doora licked her chops nervously. Any moment now, the Draca would cease their keening and wailing and come away from the shallow grave where her victim would lie forever. They would confront her, and then the end would come.

Curse these wings! If only they were perfect again, I would be able to use them to my advantage and lift myself into the air once more, feel the breeze kiss my scales, and leave this place forever-- but because of them, I am forever bound to the earth.

But might her oldest sister forgive her for her deadly actions, remembering instead how valiantly Doora had fought to keep the earth dragon from descending upon Ziuta before His allotted time?

She had no way of knowing, and nowhere to flee. If she chose, Doora could run-- she was faster on four feet than any horse or mountain goat on Weema-- but her sisters, using the sheer strength of their own wings, would catch her within hours. Their sharp noses would find her; there would be no place to run, no place to hide.

No one to love her as she so desired to be loved.

The keening stopped, and Doora's muscular heart lurched into her throat.

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Gormaq shuffled back to his lodge as quickly as he dared that morning. Negotiations between himself, Amiechek, and Malaraq had lasted well into the Night as they sat at Malaraq's hearth, but Gormaq had been unyielding: much to Amiechek's disbelief and shock, he had made his choice.

Now, with one hand gripping the walking staff and the other on the iron knocker on the front door of his lodge, he struggled to come to grips with his choice. Although beneath the surface of it all he'd had a plan, the fact remained that he had chosen one of his Star-Children over the other. Even if he never truly intended to release one of his girls into the wilderness so that the other might live, would the Twin Moons understand this? Would they forgive him his lie, even though it was unspoken etiquette that Evening folk were never to speak with forked tongues? Could this one small act of deception be forgiven, since the ultimate goal was to save both his daughters?