The Dragons Of Tomorrow

Back in my day, I remember how free everything was. Dragons roamed the skies, coming back with meat that we later shared with them. We were best friends with them; We trained them, we helped raise them, and we treated them when they were ill or injured. They repaid us with the same kindness and respect, always leaving our sheep alone.

Now, war was constant. More and more humans and dragons died, every death being of any age. I wanted to fix it. I couldn’t fix it, of course, I knew that. I can’t stop an entire war. But I can scavenge for eggs and baby dragons and perhaps dragons that’re like me, who just want the war over. I can accumulate my own population and run away, where we create our own world and our own land again.

I had my own dragon, one that hatched the second I was born. She cried with me as a newborn, and immediately the Keeper knew that she and I were to be rider and dragon. Her name was completely up to me, once I was old enough to truly ride her. I still remember the feeling that washed over me when my opportunity was finally here, the day I’d been waiting for since before I was born. I named her Feroza, because her scales were such a vibrant green-blue color, and her eyes were a bright icy amber. Her wings were great, her talons hooked, and it was clear she was built for dangerous tasks. 

Her wings were thin, and bent in various ways, and her frame was skinny. She had a tail that narrowed down to a whip-like end, and her snout pointed forwards, her horns angled evenly to drive through the air. She had large, armored scales lining her back, she could weave easily between trees when she travelled quickly, heaving herself back and forth, distributing her weight. 

I remember when I was first climbing on her, I acted as if she was a hurt puppy. I tried to put as little weight on her back as I could, since it felt wrong to just… sit.

As time went on, though, I got more used to it, soon learning that she didn’t mind. She thought I was light. 

I remember when the war first started. I don’t know how it started, but I do remember when I woke up on my nineteenth birthday, our forest was in flames, and various dragons were being kidnapped and slain. The townspeople tried to smash the Keeper’s eggs, but I didn’t let that happen. I called Feroza to my side, and I stashed the eggs into multiple bags, and my dragon shovelled them into her maw, both of us being extra careful as to keep them intact. 

I remember when I swept through my house, taking my valuables. I grabbed as little as I could, and then threw myself onto Feroza. She made sure I was fastened, taking off. Arrows bounced off of her thick scales as the villagers tried to shoot her and I down, shrieking insults and curses. Why were they doing this? What happened?

I don’t remember the steps exactly. All I know is that one moment, I was happy. I was at home. Our kingdom and the dragons were at peace, all was right. The next, I was thousands of miles from my village, who’s kingdom had gone to war with the dragons. All had gone wrong.

Feroza had taken me as far as she could, her wings slicing through the air. She had been able to fly for an entire half day without stopping, and the eggs in her jaws stayed perfectly safe. Since Feroza was sort of thrown into this, her mind had changed to identify the eggs as her own. She treated them as if she herself had laid them.

I remember how we had set up a short camp, hiding out in an abandoned cave. With her gentle fire, we had a firepit in no time. Luckily, I had managed to grab some spare meat and fish, and we roasted that over the fire. I shared portions of it with her, as I couldn’t let her starve. 

I remember when a baby began wailing, and Feroza shamefully uncurled her right wing to show a child no older than six months. I remember panicking, speaking in a louder tone, telling her about why she couldn’t just steal a baby when none of our crew was a biological female that could take care of a human child. She huffed, and we set out to find a small river, where we gently filtered and gave the baby water, easing it a little bit. We learned it was a girl.

I remember when the first egg hatched. We had travelled at least a few thousand miles away from our old kingdom, and we had sheltered in an abandoned village. Me and Feroza and Lily, the baby, had been startled awake by a violent scratching noise. Feroza was the first to react, since she could tell it was a dragon egg, and she had it out in an instant. I remembered the rule of not helping dragonets hatch unless they absolutely needed help, so I tried to block her from opening it. The rule was in place for a reason, because sometimes, people would accidentally dismember the newly made dragonet inside, since their scales were still soft. 

The dragonet was the first of many, and soon enough, me and Feroza alone ruled an army of dragons. It was our own version of a kingdom. Feroza taught them Dragon, while I (with Feroza’s help) taught them to understand English words and commands.

Fast forward a few years, and Lily had grown into a fine young woman, being 15 now. I wondered faintly if the war had ended. We had built our own village from wood and raw materials that Feroza collected, and I thanked the Keeper above that we had enough to keep us and the dragons well fed and rested. 

Well, I raised my dragon-scale sword, one of the sharpest I could make, and pointed it West. Feroza, alongside tens of hundreds of dragons, rose to the sky. I could hear the wind being pushed back and forth as their wings worked in harmony. I could see curls of smoke rise into the air as the fire-born dragons moved, the blood in their veins being liquid lava. I could feel the powerful sky dragons and their huge, powerful wings swinging in arcs. I could hear the gem-born dragons’ diamond-like scales clashing against one another, including Feroza.

In that moment, over my anxiety, I felt the wind in my hair and I could feel the power of the dragons around me. I knew I was ready.

It was time to go home.