2104, China and the United States of America have risen to superpower status and political as well as economical conflicts have arisen between the two titans. All that the bonfire awaits is the spark. It arrives in the year 2105. China’s ambassador is caught supplying drugs to Americans, opium, pure narcotics, heroine and other addictives. Claims of a setup are made while accusations fly wild and rumours run amok in the populace.  Negotiations take place, but fail. War breaks out. Bombs of nuclear nature are brought to bear. Missile defence systems are activated. The war reaches a stalemate in 2110. The USA, developing the Plasma bomb, brings it to bear despite its prototype status. It backfires and the entire world is vaporized in the ensuing blast. The vast ocean of energy produced causes ripples in time and space. The elasticity of the universe’s nature is stretched to its limit and nearly breaks. It rebounds, reforming the earth and creating new inhabitants and remaking the old. However, everything is no longer the same, and it will never be again.

She whistled into the wind, her arm upraised. A leather guard covered the forearm, from elbow to wrist. A loud screech warned of the hawk’s return. Like a golden splash of sunlight, the bright yellow bird settled onto the guard, its sharp claws digging in deep. Despite the clear day and fine weather, the bird seemed uneasy. It constantly glanced around, its black beady eyes darting from the forest to her and back again. She too, glanced around, wondering what was unsettling her hunting bird. The cause soon became apparent. A low growl from her left made her turn, slowly. The brown dragon’s amber gaze locked her own and she saw hunger within them. She screamed and as most people would do in her circumstances, she fainted.

            The drake nudged her prone body gently with his soft muzzle. The hawk was irritating, but was of no large consequence to him. His scales prevented damage to his body, something he was constantly grateful for. His soft underbelly was more prone to attacks, thus protected by large overlapping scales allowing movement. Thick powerful muscles moved underneath the taunt skin, causing a ripple effect. His long tail whipped about, creating a tiny dust storm that sent the bird into a frenzied state.

            She groaned beneath his gentle ministrations of nudging and poking. Her hand subconsciously slapped his face, making him rear back, shaking his head vigorously. His thin mane of spines rustled softly as he returned to poking her. Curiosity made him less cautious, although the bird made him annoyed. Snarling, he clawed at it, feeling a vague sense of satisfaction as his razor claws tore easily through the bird’s wing. He licked at the blood on them, feeling his hunger pangs return. The bird, flapping its one good wing, attempted to peck his claw. It was no good and as the bird realised, it was too late. He lunged forward in a single fluid motion and the bird’s last word was a squawk.

            He coughed out a few feathers, watching them drift like so many fragments of the sunbeam. They drifted over the comatose girl. Curious, he padded over, licking her face. She woke, only to scream again. This time however, he was ready. Growling, he brought his tail into sharp contact with her face, in effect giving her a tight slap. She stopped screaming and noticed in her blind panic, the drifting feathers. The brown drake moved closer towards her, his warm amber eyes no longer radiating the first hunger she had seen. However, fear made her panic and she scuttled away on her hands and knees, all the while facing the male dragon. He just tilted his head, watching her reaction with great interest. Then, as she got too far, he padded closer. Wailing now, she hurled a pebble at him. It glanced off his scales, causing no major damage but it cut a shallow gash across his eye ridge, nearly into his eye.

            Angered, he pounced forward; all intentions of letting her go forgotten. She scrambled to avoid him, but his claws found their mark. Tearing into soft flesh, they forged a deep wound into her back. She fell forward, crying out in pain. He hesitated, his claws hanging in mid air. The drake did not really want to hurt her, but what was done was done. Settling back onto his haunches, a swirl of tiny glittering motes gathered around him. They clustered around his claws before suddenly shooting towards her. The deep throbbing in her back faded to a shadow then nothing. Trembling, she looked at him, fear shining in her eyes. He took a few steps back, trying to show her that he meant no harm. She got up, her wobbly legs barely holding up. He made as if to move forward, but noticed her fear and stayed where he was. She slowly retreated away from him, almost too fearful to run.

            “Its razor claws were larger than my forearm! It dismembered my hunting bird as I courageously charged forward. However, its tail swiped me a stunning blow. In my paralysis, it clawed my back but I managed to escape with my life!”

            She showed everyone the scars. Like trenches, they travelled long and deep. The men paused in their scoffing. Such scars were savage to say the least. The dragon’s healing had been thorough, but the wound was too deep to avoid scars. The people’s silence was the reaction she wanted. Smirking, she was pulling her tunic back over her back when the village healer stopped her.

            “Wait. I’ll like to examine these. A dragon you say?”

            He stared at it for a while, then, shook his head as he retook his seat at the fireplace.

            “If the dragon was really after you, did you think you’d survive so easily? Dragons don’t let their prey off so easily.”

            She glared at him.

            “You’ve never met one before, old man! Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.”

            He returned her glare with a smile.

            “I’ve examined your scars. They were not meant to kill at all. Injure, yes, kill, no. As for experience, I’ve tended to many dragon attack victims, more than your years. They all died.”

            He shuffled out of the room, followed by his apprentice. His voice drifted back into the inn, carried by the wind.

            “Your dragon probably was curious about you when you attacked it, so it struck back. It didn’t hit you more than once, did it?”

             His last comment was surrounded by laughter, derogatory laughter.  The villagers, hearing their wise-man’s words, joined in, seeing the truth behind her deception. She left the village, face burning.

            His amber gaze watched her as she sat crying at the waterfall in the forest centre. Lost, and without any livelihood, she travelled from village to village, telling her tale, hoping to get something to last long enough to survive till the next village. With her hawk gone, she had nothing left. The past few villages were amazed at her story, giving her pity food and clothing, but at the latest, her entire fabrication was uncovered. Now, she vented her anger and frustration on the rocks, her tears mingling freely with the waters.

            He crept forward, growling gently. Having following her over the past few days, he was tired and hungry. Seeing her pause at the waterfall, he had taken the opportunity to catch something. With the deer’s carcass in his jaws, he padded towards her. She screamed and backed up against the rocks of the waterfall, waving her hunting knife furiously at him. Sensing her distress, he put down his meal and lay on his back, toying with his tail for a while.

            Glancing at her, he saw that she was no longer waving that small sharp metal object at him and was creeping forward slowly. He nudged the deer towards her, growling softly. She knelt down beside it, watching the dragon carefully.

            “You’re doing this for me? To repay me for the bird?”

            He nodded his head. His stomach rumbled and he glanced sheepishly at her. She smiled nervously and carved off a leg, tossing it over to him. He bit into it with relish, polishing off the meat before glanced at her. She, removing a generous portion enough for herself, moved away from the carcass. Rumbling happily, he placed his claws on the body before biting into it and tearing off chunks in a gentle bloody spray.  He paused halfway to glance at her, only to see disgust. He continued, ignoring her obvious show of revulsion. Humans were a dime a dozen anyway. He gathered that humans were not worth much. His debt repaid, the drake snorted at her before spreading his wings with a snap. A powerful wing-beat brought him up into the air, into the cool movements of the wind. The scent of prey was faint, but he could tell it had passed by quite recently. Growling happily to himself, he swooped off in its direction.

Below, she glanced at the bones and the rapidly disappearing drake. Shaking her head at his rudeness, she stomped towards another village. Perhaps she could trick these into giving her something. If she was lucky, maybe she could find a nice strong man to look after her.

            The scent of the animal was quite fresh here, but his instincts told him something was wrong. Growling, he glanced around, only to see thin whip-like tendrils snap out of the ground and wrap around his body. Wood?Snarling, Myrvon tore at the tendrils with fang and claw. Despite the numerous fragments he scattered onto the ground, they continuously grew, increasing in numbers. With a great roar, an earthquake rippled through the ground. The tendrils waved in distress, withering rapidly. Blackening in seconds, they collapsed, becoming little more than dust on the ground. Snorting, Myrvon summoned up a small squall, clearing away the dust and dirt. His hunch was correct. On the ground, thin sigils were carved into the bedrock, forming a circle of wood elemental magic, a trap to be specific. Crude, but quite effective against most as all save dragons and humans. The former was able to manipulate ether into its elemental forms, allowing countering of magic while humans were capable to using ether as well, though to a much lesser extent. They relied on rituals and rites, often involving sigils and other means of activation and setup.

            The bedrock shifted and liquefied, smoothening out as he looked at it. Once it was completely flat with no traces of the sigils, he smirked, satisfied. The ground hardened, returning to its original state and texture, no sign of the trap remaining. Turning, he heard chanting. A shaman-cum-trapper waved his staff at him, tracing out glowing element sigils. Screaming out their names, the shaman caused the sigils to burn with an eldritch light before disappearing.

            A pillar of raging fire burst out of the ground. Like a tornado, it spiralled around Myrvon, threatening to consume the drake. Taken aback at the shaman’s sudden attack, the drake did not respond fast enough. The inferno scorched his side badly before the air formed a blanket around it and extinguished the flames. Hurt and angry, the brown drake roared to the skies. Instantly, they darkened. The shaman, noticing his inherent danger, began to back away. It was too late, though. Out of the broiling clouds, snaking threads of lightning shot into the frail human. Screams accompanied the stench of burnt flesh and acrid ozone. Myrvon, watching the lightning strike the ground repeatedly, grinned to himself. Revenge could be sweet, very sweet. Motes gathered around his burnt side, glowing brightly before fading into nothingness, taking away from the injury at the same time. Fully healed, the drake took the air. A short snack first, perhaps deer, then a nap.