The Dragon of Charred Scales

Whispers on the Wind

Jheecu

Three Weeks Later

Teeth bared, Harogbas stared down at me, looking for a weakness just as I do the same. A few months have given me all the experience needed to wrestle against a larger opponent, something new to me. But still, he can pin me down more than I can make him submit. It makes my blood boil.

I snort in his direction, pushing small jets of flame out of my nostrils. Black flames tinged sometimes with blue, sometimes with red, dart from his mouth. He knows how to use my anger against me. He always has, and that is how he can beat me in wrestling and in mating challenges. It is a weakness he wants me to overcome in case a war starts. At least he says it is a weakness. I have done pretty well in life wrestling with anger.

Drifts of snow litter the ground inside the invisibility dome some elf is maintaining over us. Ice could be anywhere, but I have not been able to spare a glance downward this whole session. My paws have not slipped. Yet. Nor has Harogbas slipped.

I raise one paw, making him flinch. That is his weakness, his too quick reactions. But I do not lunge just yet. That would be what he is expecting.

Harogbas' tail swishes violently, scraping the ground a little. He is about to pounce, and I prepare. The moment I see his leg muscles propel him forward, I jump to intercept him, paws aimed at his abdomen. No magic shields us from our claws and teeth so he snaps his jaws downwards, making me twist completely out of the way. His weight tries to push me backwards, but I jump fully away. With a quick twist I land square on my paws and prepare to move again.

He begins to circle me. I would have pressed the attack if I had been him. His circling allows me to prepare an attack or be in a better position to defend than I had been just a moment ago. Then again, his more calculated way of fighting, as opposed to my instinctual method, has won more matches.

Knowing this, I dart in a diagonal towards his left side, prepared to dodge his paw or wings. One flaw in his methods is that if I can attack before he is ready, I have a good chance. Unfortunately, his reaction speed helps to cover that weakness.

Blowing smoke, Harogbas jumped away, wings flared. His tail moves into place, ready to slash me but I have other plans. Kicking up dirt and snow and nearly slipping, I abruptly shift to moving to my left and jump at his neck. My claws slip off his scales but do draw blood on their way down. Our necks tangled in an attempt to grab each other's throats.

The longer we wrestle, the more we both accumulate shallow scratches and occasional deep wounds. This is a fight in earnest, even if it started as practice. Harogbas wants this, fully believing that fights will break out once the Laku come out of hiding. It could be simple arguments or even a full-scale war, but the gist of it, he said, is that anything can happen. He has told me that Laku might fight amongst themselves, though I cannot think of a reason why this may happen except by some disagreement between the Dragon Foes and us dragons. I trust his judgement, though. And it gives us a reason to get away from the rest of Oita to spend time together.

His tail caught my side, inflicting what feels like more than a simple bruise. The blow knocks some of the wind from my lungs, but even more it sharpens my will to succeed. I see him hesitate for just a moment, but long enough to make my move. Clenching my teeth, I jump onto Harogbas' back, all four paws digging sharp claws into his sides.

Before he could whip his head backwards to snap at me, I thrust my jaws to hold the middle of his neck. He roars and struggles to get away, bucking and rearing. In a real fight he would be dead. But I would never kill him.

Still not giving up, Harogbas slams us down on our left side, the side he bruised on me. The flare of pain makes me let go long enough for him to slip away. I mutter a curse as I again stand up.