Games of fire

Moonwatcher

That night, Moonwatcher had a dream.

She was a sleek, black wolf, dark as the abyss. She was running through a forest at night. The moon shone above the tall pines. Behind her, she heard a howl. Another wolf was following her. And it was calling for reinforcement. A twig snapped behind her. Her heart skipped a beat, and she broke into a sprint, running into the mist. She heard a snarl, then the sound of paws on dry grass. The creature was following her, chasing her into the unknown. Her heart was racing. She burst into a clearing lit up by the moon light. In the centre of the small stretch of grass was a boulder. Upon the rock was a beautiful white creature who looked like it had been formed out of moon beams.

The wolf leaped down and faced the forest behind her. It let out a growl, and the others turned and fled. The white wolf invited her to join him on the boulder, and she accepted. He led her up, climbing expertly, not slipping once. When they were both up, he let out a long howl. It was unlike the wolf in the forest's howl. It was not a howl of rage. It was not a howl of pain. It was a cry of hope, filling her heart with joy.

A hole opened up beneath her. She fell in, and plunged into blackness. Then something caught her. She looked up. Another wolf was looking down on her. His coat was the colour of sand, and he had a white scar down his snout.

He pulled her up, and led her away. She glanced back, to see the pale wolf fighting with creatures that were not there, yelping at wounds that did not exist.

She woke up screaming. The black sand beneath her had been spread across half the room. She looked up at the open roof, breathing heavily. The moon was still high in the night sky, shining as bright as the stars.

A sandwing came running, a platter in his hands. She almost yelped, but she held herself back. The sandwing had a scar down his face, identical to the one in her dream.

He placed the tray next to her, and pulled a broom out of a cupboard she hadn't seen before. He started sweeping all the sand back towards her bed. The platter was covered in exotic fruit, all sorts of kinds which looked like they had been picked less than an hour ago.

"Hey."
He looked up, but didn't answer.
"Do you know what time it is?"
He shook his head.
"What's your name?"
He suddenly became very interested in the floor. When he looked back up, he went on sweeping, pretending not to have heard her. But his eyes told him otherwise. She stepped into his mind and almost fell over.

This dragon's thoughts were like a rushing river. If you lost concentration, you could get swept away. A large part of his brain was wondering why she had asked him. Another part was trying to estimate the size of a grapefruit. He was partly estimating how many grains of sand were spread out over the room. That was just a few of the things was thinking about.

Something pierced through all the other thoughts: how can I get her to like me? Immediately, he stamped that thought out with memories. Memories of torture. Being whipped by a sandwing guard. Branded by another. Stabs of pain like hot needles.

They sat there in silence. Moon tried to peel a mango and successfully made a fool of herself. He left after about ten minutes of awkward silence.

She spent a long time staring at the night sky, wondering if she would live through the next month. She missed her mother. She wondered if she was worried about her, or if she was glad she could finally stop worrying about her curse, if she was happy that her constant source of trouble was gone. Finally, she drifted into a light, restless sleep.