The First Time I Met Blue

Written by SJ Covey

They told me the day Blue found me changed him completely. I have yet to discover whether this was a good or bad thing. He retells the story differently every time, changing the subject when I challenge him.

My favourite version was the one I turned to for comfort. Or when I needed strength. It was a big warm blanket of love which, whether he meant it or not, gave me satisfaction that I was wanted, needed and loved.

The air that day had been crisp, the type of day perfect for dragons. Their temperature internally ran so high with the fire burning inside them. Their core contained the flames.

A dragon loves nothing more than a typical Autumn day. If humans enjoy watching a plume of air escape, their mouths as it turns to fog when the cold chill of the air grips their breath. Imagine what that is like for a dragon. A flame freezing in motion, if only for the briefest moments before this enchantment broke.

They were held for eternity, never to become a fire Dragons conflagration. Dragons never grow out of this fascination, much like their human counterparts. The infant inside both species is prevalent in many ways forging a connection that, on the surface, should not exist.

Blue walked into the clearing, claws clicked, then crunched the beautiful carpets of fallen leaves beneath his feet. A swish sounded like a deep sigh with the motion of his tail sweeping the leaves behind him.

The air inside the clearing was perfect for him to release a stream of fire. His party trick causes an immediate effect. A crackle stopped when the air caught the flame, removing the heat from the fire—capturing it and preventing the skinny arm-like branches of the nearest tree from erupting into flames.

“Again, again.” Clapping my hands with delight. I was approximately three cycles old, according to Magenarta the wise, our dragon elder.

Blue roared in surprise; I returned my roar. Not as impressive, but causing a frown to wrinkle the pockmarked blue-tinged skin between Blue’s eyes.

“Silence.” His thought reverberated around the clearing, bouncing from the trees.

An ear-splitting sound, the likes of which Blue had never encountered before, filled the forest. His hearing was very sensitive. The double-wide slits on either side of his head were inundated by the decibels, absorbing them from the air. His wrinkle turned to a pained expression, a sulphurous tear staining a rivulet down his snout.

“Boo-boo.” I pointed, my chubby legs tottering towards him like a fawn taking those first uncertain steps.

Smoke streamed from Blue’s nostrils, nostrils which were the same size as me. The smoke surrounded me, and I must have become disorientated because I lost my footing. I swayed around three times, a mighty oak with its chunky legs planted to the earth, but the strong gale won over, and I toppled to the ground in a heap.

The dragon flinched backwards in anticipation of the ear-piercing screech being repeated. There was a momentary pause, and the most beautiful sound filled the clearing. With a tiny giggle, I started to sing. I sang the song of the dragons. They had not heard this song for ten thousand years; it died with the last of the talking dragons.

Yet, here was the music of their people. They could hear it in their hearts but could not vocalise it, so how could this human child? Where had I listened to this tune? Let alone learnt the words no one had breathed in such a long time. Where did a human learn dragoniex, their language? No human had ever spoken it to their knowledge.

Furthermore, I’d been unable to speak with a human tongue, struggling to pronounce words, vowels and r’s.

By Michael Maasen on Unsplash

Hear me, oh beautiful fields of green corn and maze.

See me, my sunsets, your skies complete with beauty and haze.

Touch my wings the winds of the south.

Dare to feel the heat of my mouth.

Drago dragar, draaaagoooo dragaaaaaaaa.

We sail, and we soar.

We live, and we roar.

Our tail and our claw.

Your magic, your lore.

By Kati Hoehl on Unsplash

Blue’s eyes were half closed. The emerald of his beautiful eyes became a line drawn with a fine brush. His face melted from the warmth he experienced upon hearing this unsung song from the mouth of a babe.

He nudged me with the shoulder of his wing. Clutching the tip of his snout without fear, I pulled myself to my feet. The gap between his nostrils was the perfect fit for me. I reached on my tippy toes. Stretching for all I was worth and kissed him, not a gentle little peck—a big smacker-roony.

Blue’s eyes blinked so rapidly in response that they knocked me off my feet again, and I fell back to the floor. His wing flicked with the grace of a butterfly to catch me before my rear landed in the dirt. Cradling me in his wing, he carried us home.

I don’t remember any of this. I remember the gasps, roars and plums of fire exhaled by the other dragons when Blue presented me to the court.

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