NightShade

Lore Dragon - Permanent Resident

Gladekeeper’s Call - Two Destinies (How Nightshade and Zulu met, and how each found Burningflame and Kulukazi)

“Stop following me!” A low hissing grumble, an open threat. *You are dead if I see you*.

“I’m not,” teased the voice which seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere in the heavy trunked, deep-shadowed swamp. No matter where the mirror turned, there were reflections in his double eyes. Ghosts of presence. Tricks of perception. After-images of heat.

“Then what are you doing?! Attack if you’re going to!!”

“I am,” came the low murmur. “In my own way. Are you annoyed?”

No answer, except the twisting launch of a body and dark claws tearing into the branch where the voice had been just a moment ago.

“So close. Except...not.” A sly giggle from a place it couldn’t have come from. “And you *are* annoyed. How amusing. I like this game.”

Smell. Heat. And in the crook between two branches, a hole in the trunk, camouflaged from every angle but this one. He didn’t know what creatures they were, only that his head blocked their only way out. They were at his mercy.

Of which he had none. At least he did not play at torture, like the thing that plagued him. They never saw the claws and fangs that left their nest empty.

“You’re welcome,” said the low chuckle, from above him. As Zulu licked the last blood from muzzle and foreclaw, he thought he saw a wraith of smoke, of heat, disappear into the murky mist of the canopy.

It hasn’t even been the first time, that trying to go after the thing had led to a meal. Not that he was complaining, opportunist that he was. It was almost like having a pack mate. Except it was nothing like having a pack mate. It didn’t matter. He could take care of himself in this darkness.

It was a long time since the Abiding Boneyard, and the sight of any other mirror. Alone felt unnatural, leaving an itch inside he couldn’t reach for all his agility. But the green/black camouflage he bore, and the dark eyes that absorbed all light and heat and reflected none, made the night swamp of the Driftwood Drag his perfect home.

Yet, he was far from content, and he had been moving from west to east then north, following the river as if it pointed somewhere. The beasts that came to the water were easy prey, but his heart was not fed. These tricksy dragons were not his kind, and didn’t fight properly. He needed to test himself, like a true son of Plaguebringer!

“Awake,” said the low voice above him. “Our Journey is over.”

“Our Journey? Our?! I have nothing to do with you, witch!” He shot back into the canopy.

“I had a dream, when you arrived in my land.” the voice continued, solemn. “The Shadowbinder spoke to me. This daughter of Shadow’s destiny was entwined with a Son of Plague.” Silence, as the dusk deepened, and they moved forward, as one though separate, as if the Tangled Wood were becoming one with the Ancient Forest they saw beyond. One, in darkness, misty, sooty claws reaching.

“But it was never you.”

The murk resolved into a dragon of unknown and ungainly species, mist-swirled haunches heavy and strong, wings and crest black as night, whose eyes swept past him as if he no longer existed. His own followed, to a creature who smelled of the miasma of home and looked like living flame.

His chance finally, to close the attack he had intended these past weeks. But beyond the ungainly male, her twin in form, one twin to him, and two more besides, distracted him completely. Zulu crouched, no more aware of his shadow-plague as she was of him. Stalking the three, staying downwind, he crept closer, closer. The dark one was perfection itself, as she ran down a fleet creature and pounced with the savagery of a goddess, her shriek coursing through him like blades of ice, the creature felled without a single wasted motion.

What to do, struck with such a vision? He attacked, streaking forward and colliding with her, who met him claw for claw, screaming, wings slamming against him, hind legs raking against his flank, in a wild tumble of purest violence. It was only moments, before each, evenly matched, had each other in a full body deathgrip. Throat in one jaw, hindclaw digging to eviscerate the other, straining in breathless stalemate.

The other two mirrors stalked forward, fascinated, the younger wondering who’s blood they would taste. His mother simply grinned, expectant.

“Dusklight!” A young Ridgeback appealed to the elder Guardian with him, the circuit pattern on his body glowing with his agitation. “They are going to tear each other apart! Stop them!”

The sun-winged Guardian laughed, watching the two bogsneaks disappear into the foliage, on their own business. “I forget, my young friend. You have never seen mirrors in love.”

(From KellyTheWolf; her favorites)