BehoId! I Shall Give This the Ultra-Creative Working Title of "DragonHeart"!

(This has nothing to do with Nathan's image today- which, in my opinion, is lovely. Rather, this snippet is the beginning of putting a bit of flesh on some story bones I came up with back in January... you may even remember them...)


At first she was frightened by her dragon- who wouldn’t be? A fearsome thing of living flame bursting free of one’s chest is more than enough to frighten a full grown man, let alone a child of six who was already in a terrible situation. But when it did not hurt her, when it instead protected her, and then showed affection, even love for her, her fear began to fade. When she finally confessed what had happened to her grandmother, the old woman swore her to secrecy and told her stories of her long-dead grandfather and his fights in the coliseums. According to what her grandfather had told her grandmother, all heart-creatures were given a face name when they first emerged, to be used in public (although of course in this day and age she must never, never reveal that she had a heart-beast). The creatures also had a secret name, the heart name, but that was inherent rather than chosen, and might not be revealed for years. The girl, in the manner of children, chose the rather unoriginal face name of Little Wing. And as she grew older, and came to truly understand that Little Wing was in fact part of her, and could come and go to defend her, or even just offer companionship, she believed the dragon tame, and ceased fearing her entirely.

This was a mistake.

You see, since that first day when her fear had caused Little-Wing to finally wake from her slumber, the girl had never experienced a negative emotion with any true force. She had a naturally sunny disposition, and trended towards the positive in any situation. She believed in the good in people (despite her early experiences) and for the most part people lived up to her belief. That’s not to say she didn’t have the occasional temper-tantrum (at which point Little-Wing would often appear, wings mantled and hissing sparks to underline her displeasure) but they were the fleeting emotions of a child, quickly soothed. Her concept of anger was a shallow thing- and her grandmother thanked the gods each day for that.

It was not to last, however. She was fourteen years old and saw the body of her gentle sister Eolyn laying there, broken and bleeding for nothing more than being what she was, and in that moment the girl experienced true Rage- and when she did so, Little-Wing burst forth from her heart screaming fiery, razor-edged vengeance-

And the destruction began.

The girl found she had no control over her dragon- and truth be told, even if she had she didn’t want to control Little-Wing or her beautiful, fatal fury. As far as she was concerned, the villagers in their failure to defend Eolyn had earned whatever devastation the girl’s heart-beast reigned down, and she laughed as blood and flames filling the streets. It wasn’t until her grandmother brought her sister to her, all but dead yet still pleading with her to stop, to have mercy, that the girl awoke to the possible repercussions of what was occurring. Of what she was allowing to occur. Resentful, but not wanting to further upset Eolyn, she called Little-Wing back to her-

But Little-Wing would not come. Because Little-Wing knew the girl’s heart better than she did- because Little-Wing was the living embodiment of the girl’s spirit- she knew what the girl truly desired. And that was pain and punishment for those who had done this to Eolyn.

The screams continued.