102 Degrees and I Feel Like Sharing a Story

We gave in. Mother nature is playing pin the tail on the donkey with her calendar and filling a nice June day with 102 degrees of nasty, humid heat. The A/C is currently fighting to fill our wee apartment with cool air, but it is struggling. I have faith in it, but right now, I'm about ready to set up camp in the pool and never leave. 


Ever. 


Anway. I played WoW last night, but it makes my computer run so hot that I couldn't stay on for long. I need new fans for The Beast, but I'm some kind of lazy, I don't know... So after shutting down my comp, I brought out my trusty(except not trusty because when Cataclysm came out I couldn't play WoW on it anymore UGH) laptop and fired up my melting muse, molding it into something usable. 


It kicked out this, and I decided to share it. It's a little long, but I'm not mean enough to cut it out halfway through. I will explain more about my stories down the road, but for right now, read and comment. Comments are my crack. Literally. Raaaawr.


By the way: this story is my property. Trust me, do not try to steal my random babblings...

~~~~

A look passed between them, three heads nodding in agreement. A quiet, slow breath escaped, too low for the buck to hear. Lifting the bow, Kiasha sighted down her arm, the string pulled taught. Her people, the Syndai, were adept hunters and the trials of the forest proved to be child’s play to them, though her good friends, both half-breeds and neither of them having Syndai blood, had never disappointed her.

They would eat well tonight, she mused, breathing deeply. On her second exhale, she loosed the arrow, the string twanging sharply in the quiet forest. But somehow, the buck sensed them. Its ears twitched milliseconds before the shot, and its legs were already bunching. The powerful creature leapt, just barely missing the deadly shot.            

The race was on.

Though the massive trees vied for space, some trunks nearly growing into each other, the buck found the best trail between them that allowed for the width of its impressive antlers, moving fast enough to denote a path remembered. The three hunters moved just as fast, darting like shadows behind their prey. Kiasha led them, the bow over her shoulder. A dagger between her fingers was her only weapon, but it would be enough, if only she could catch the beast.

A hiss to her right and she jumped on instinct, soaring over the fallen trunk in her path. A smirk to Alarik, and they continued to run, the sound of the buck’s labored breathing now reaching them as it lost its first manic burst of adrenaline. The trees seemed to close in around them more and more, the deer growing uncertain of its path.

They were deep in the southern part of the Blackbough Weald where the trees were thickest, and shadows were a constant companion to the chest high ferns between the trunks. The deer here were adept at moving through the crowded landscape here, but a panicked flight was different than a steady trundle for food, and the creature’s panic was growing.    

Suddenly, it stumbled, catching itself on a wayward root. The error was enough, but Kiasha was denied the killing blow. A dagger not her own flashed, and Vara was there, driving the efficient blade deep into the creature’s throat as she dug her heels in against its momentum. The buck, its fur patterned with dark splotches and stripes, let out an agonized bleat before slumping forward in death.     

“You thief,” Kiasha growled, hands on her hips. The fiery red of her hair shone like blood here, the thick canopy blocking out most of the sun. Sheathing her weapon, she nudged the lifeless form with her bare toes.      

“Not a thief, just faster apparently,” a voice rumbled good-naturedly, and the two women turned to see their final companion step from behind a trunk. Alarik smiled, sheathing his own knife, completely unaware of Kiasha’s glare. He touched the spread of the dead buck’s antlers, whistling. “Good kill, Vara.”

“It was my kill,” the fiery Syndai countered, pulling Vara’s dagger from the beast’s neck and tossing it to her friend, who began meticulously cleaning the blade with grass. The dark-haired woman was a half-breed, having her dregore mother’s black hair, but her father’s pale skin. Adding her piercing turquoise eyes painted a striking visage, one that caught the stares of many in the village.      

“Then why is this not buried in the beast’s neck instead of Vara’s dagger?” Alarik questioned as he tossed Kiasha her clean arrow, a smirk on his lips.

Catching it, Kiasha scowled. “One of you made a noise! I blame it entirely on the two of you. I’ve never missed before when I’m alone.” Stabbing the arrow back into her quiver, she turned and stalked off, leaving them to deal with the carcass.

“I was only teasing,” Alarik called after her, but the trees seemed to swallow his words. A silence had settled over the forest, stopping Kiasha before she went more than ten feet. Her hand settled on her dagger as she looked around, trying to discern what might lay in the shadows of the huge trunks and waist high ferns.

The trees ahead of her exploded in a shower of splinters, sending them all to the dirt as they tried to avoid the tiny spears. A furious roar punctuated the silence, falling away into a hiss that crawled along Kiasha’s spine like a line of ants. She shuddered, lifting her head and locking gazes with a beast of nightmare.

It was a bough cat, but it resembled a rotten corpse more than a living creature. The feline’s mottled fur had sloughed off in places, revealing the shining flesh and shrunken muscle beneath, blood oozing from the open wounds. Every bone stuck out in sharp relief against the flesh that still remained, giving it a cadaverous look. But the spines erupting from its shoulders and back, the skin there nothing but bloody tatters, gave it a demonic appearance.    

The monster roared again, the sound laced with agony. Kiasha couldn’t draw her gaze away from the hollow, pupil-less eyes as it stalked closer, claws tearing at the soil as if it fought itself from charging forward then and there.

Was it…trying to turn away?

Narrowing her eyes, Kiasha followed the movements of its muscles. The beast looked like it was trying to flee even as it moved closer, as if two entities were pulling it in opposite directions. The pain in its gaze made her frown deepen and she drew her dagger, intent on putting it out of its horrendous misery.

“Kiasha, what are you doing?” Vara cried, her hands already raising in preparation for a spell. But Kiasha ignored her friend, ignored Alarik’s hand suddenly on her shoulder. She was a warrior, an honorable one, and there was no honor in letting this creature suffer any longer.

“Kiasha!”

She was already running, intent on her adversary. Even if it looked risen from the dead, the bough cat was fast and it launched itself into the trees, clearly at an advantage. But as Kiasha leapt into the trees herself, the beast seemed to hesitate before its maw opened in a furious feline scream and lunged at her.

The two met, toppling from the branches as Kiasha struggled to keep the creature from ripping her throat out. But wherever she touched, the cat’s skin ripped away, leaving her with little purchase. Her dagger lay useless half a dozen feet away, out of reach unless she could get the heavy creature off.

Their eyes met again as she locked her hands under its jaw and she swore something danced in those yellow orbs, tingeing them red for an instant. Saliva dripped on her cheek, the fetid breath of the creature gagging her as it strove to bite down on her face.

A furious snarl ripped through the air and suddenly the weight of the beast was gone. Alarik pulled her to her feet as they both turned to watch Morbixx, Kiasha’s huge red dragon, fight the creature with a rage unmatched by anything that any of them had ever seen.

“Morbixx, be careful!” she cried, wiping the spittle and blood from her face and hands. The fluids had started to burn her skin, and she sensed that the greatest danger might not be the creature’s claws, but the disease that obviously plagued it. Her dragon fought with a fury she had never seen, but then again, she had never truly been in such danger. Though larger than the bough cat, Morbixx had found a worthy adversary and the two fought like mad beasts, the dragon’s snarls nearly deafening them. The fighters had created a gap in the canopy above as they toppled some of the smaller trees, the trunks crashing into their neighbors. Kiasha watched in awe as her bonded fought to protect her, feeling her already substantial love for him grow.

Mine, we come! Alarik looked up through the gap, spotting two more dragons as they flew swiftly towards them. But as they landed, the fight ended. Morbixx ripped the bough cat’s head from its shoulders with a wet tearing sound, scaly lips pulled back over his fangs in a snarl.

“You will never touch mine again, beast,” he growled, tossing the carcass aside with disdain. His claws were coated in blood, and Kiasha ran to him, ripping up grasses and dirt in an effort to clean the grim from her dragon’s hide.

"We must bathe you, now.”

“Why?” Vara approached, going immediately to her own dragon, whose scales shone in the sunlight like oil. Embrith, nearly as large as Morbixx, wrapped his tail protectively around his bonded as she stood between his clawed hands.

“The creature is diseased. We need to get the thing’s blood off of him.” Frowning, Kiasha ran her hands along Morbixx’s scales, searching for any damage. Relieved at finding nothing, her mind still raced as she worried about the creature’s blood spattered all over him.

“If it is diseased, then I cannot bathe in the lake or rivers. Would that not spread it through the water?” the red dragon asked, his blue eyes worried as he stared down at his bonded as she frowned, realizing he was right. In her panic, she hadn’t thought clearly, and it made her all the more frustrated.

“My scales are starting to itch,” Morbixx murmured, looking back at his flank where a large patch of the creature’s blood coated his hide. Kiasha grew pale.

“I can clean him,” a serene voice offered and everyone turned, nearly forgetting the small blue dragon sitting calmly between her larger counterparts. Her tail swished idly behind her as she looked at them with her golden eyes, nearly half the size of the males. Alarik patted his bonded’s shoulder and felt a surge of pride for the little female dragon.

“A steam bath,” Vara murmured, contemplating it. Embrith snorted and smiled toothily at Morbixx, knowing that the red was not going to enjoy the treatment. Red dragons abhorred any kind of water except enough to keep their thirst at bay, and steam was almost more annoying to them then the coldest lake.

“Please no,” Morbixx pleaded, and Kiasha smiled, finding the sight of her big dragon nearly begging an amusing one.  But she worried for him, and the longer the bough cat’s blood stayed on his scales, the more worried she became. Her own skin still tingled, making her itch. It didn’t burn yet, and she hoped she’d gotten it off fast enough.

“Don’t be a baby, Morbixx. It won’t kill you.”

“It very well might,” he grumbled, bowing his horned head in resignation. Ikayda seemed to enjoy his torment, and she grinned, the frills around her head flaring.

“I will make it as pleasant as possible,” she offered, jumping straight up into the air without further adieu. Being smaller, she easily cleared the treetops with her jump, spreading her wings and hovering just about the leaves. Morbixx had a tougher time, unable to unfurl his scalloped wings. His size made a straight jump nearly impossible from such a cramped space, but after using one of the massive black barked trees as a stepping stone, he launched into the air, flapping his wings frantically to keep from crashing back down into the forest. 

The act merely added to his poor mood, and he glowered at Ikayda as she hovered primly before him.

“Close your eyes,” she said, inhaling sharply. Then she opened her maw wide, exhaling a wall of thick, roiling steam over the red dragon. Only a red could tolerate the burning steam, as their scales were already insulated against any heat, but any other creature would have been boiled alive in the innocent looking cloud. Morbixx merely hissed in annoyance, the feeling of the wet heat making him squirm. It felt unnatural, but he could feel the blood and grime washing away, dissipating with the steam into the cool air. When he opened his eyes again, Ikayda’s eyes held far too much enjoyment at his suffering.

“Never again, Ikayda. I do not care what disgusting thing covers me.”

“We must get the carcass to the village. Tkora will want to examine it,” Vara said as she lifted her hands, a glow spreading around her fingers. Of the three, she was the most adept at magic, even though Alarik’s mother was the strongest spell-caster in the village. However, he had inherited his human father’s talent with a blade, and little of his mother’s Wastelander gifts of magic. But Vara had proved an avid pupil, falling under Alora’s tutelage and expanding her talents. Now, she used her gift to encase the carcass in a block of crystal, head and all. It would be safer to transport this way, and Embrith placed his clawed hands on the shining tomb. As Kiasha climbed the tree to reach her dragon, Ikayda dipping down to collect her own bonded, the black dragon closed his purple eyes and muttered a single word before disappearing into thin air, Vara following.