Eucalyptus

THIS DRAGON BELONGS TO SHLAMBINI

Eucalyptus. That was what made the air thick and muggy when she was born, and so that was what she was named. When she was born, no one noticed anything. Nothing except for the disturbance she caused, nothing except for the constant mewling coming from the chief sorceress's den, where the air was constantly plagued with the sharp scents of various herbs and spices. That day, it was wood. Wood, which burned quickly, and when it was finished, left an unpleasant aftertaste in the air for days.
Everyone talked of Eucalyptus as that aftertaste. A crying voice in the night to keep the clan awake, an extra mouth, a fledgling who sapped up all the energy of its parents and its leaders. Everyone grew tired of it in time, and they found ways to mitigate its drain on the clan.
They gave it scraps. She grew scrawny. They kept it in the shadows, a disgrace. Her colors and her countenance started to dim, to fade into the shadows she became accustomed to. She heard whisperings through curtains, chanting, rituals. Her mother paid no heed to her, only to paying customers. And so she grew. She was silent, having no one to talk to, but she grew, her colors darkening further into maroons and colors as deep as blood, but her eyes stayed bright, as she was born with light inside of her.
That was the only thing anyone ever noticed when they accidently glimpsed her in the backrooms. Bright eyes, but a lethargic hatchling who hardly ever moved. They all thought her to be a mistake, that that light would never become anything. That it would never manifest.
But slowly, against the wishes of the world, that light did not brighten, but instead it hardened. It hardened into stubbornness, a strong-willed she-dragon who constantly watched, learning. She finally started not to give in to the clan’s mindset, but to have a mind of her own. Everything was bleak, yes, she knew that. She was not oblivious to a negative atmosphere. But no one told her to stay. No one spoke to her, the child who didn’t belong to anyone anymore. She had nothing stopping her. And so, slipping out of the den one night and simply walking into the desert, passing by the towering pillars marking the clan’s entrance, she left.
It was not easy. Creatures from the beastclans marked her as potential prey, her size being small due to her age, but she had learned things in her years. All of the conversations she had heard, the shadows of dragons on the walls, the glimpses of training acolytes she caught through a crack in the curtain, coalesced. And as she traveled, things made sense, and finally both her claws and her mind were able to work at the same time. She brought havoc to the wastelands, and as she trekked through sun-bleached ruins and shifting sands, other dragons saw her as they cowered at the sight of the beasts, as they let her pave the way through the lands. And she brought a reputation with her.
So as the landscape darkened from obelisks to damp, rotting groves of logs and mushrooms, her hide’s dark colors blended with the muted surroundings, and she started to stand taller, to wield her claws without restrain. If anything came for her, if anything came for anyone else, she would protect them. She was able to. Her claws could cut through anything, she could dart to and fro and take down whoever stood in her way. She didn’t need to sit in the shadows watching anymore. She had found new places, and although they might have been in shadow still, they were shadows that welcomed her, and they were shadows that she could use to her advantage. She could do something, not just be a scapegoat for dragons who were supposed to raise her. She didn’t have to cower.
Her reputation brought her customers, dragons pleading for her to come, for her to help their clans. And she did. She found it pleasing to be able to do something, to be wanted and not thrown in a corner. She fought off monsters, ghosts, and all manner of beasts. She used her might. And she prospered with it. She was able to do anything, it seemed like. She taught her trade, showing dragons, young and old alike, that they didn’t need to be sorcerers or sages to protect themselves and things that they loved. They could be wanted, be useful, be strong. And that if they were, good things would follow. Fame and fortune, gold and glory.
And yes, in the trees of the Wispwillow Grove she found herself in, tricksters and silver-tongues ruled over all, dragons tricking dragons who couldn’t see an inch in front of their teeth. But pure muscled might could burst through illusions, overcome fear of the shadows. And she did.
Eventually, she found herself a friend. A friend, perhaps more willowy and soft-footed than her, but still one she had trained and one that shared her values. He followed her, taught her more, and they blossomed into forces that knocked down foes without a second glance, forces that melted into one. He became more than a friend, a mate.
And in time, they found a clan, one full of wise, happy dragons almost without a care in the world. And she decided, full of pride from her long years in the Tangled Wood, to help them, with a heart full of what she thought of as compassion. She would leave her dark past behind, she thought, and finally have a new family. One that truly valued her.
She befriended dragons, and spread a few rumours of beasts in the forest. It could never hurt, as danger was always there. There was no lie.
She trained them, and slowly, the clan started to understand to value might. She taught the way of the warrior, the creed of those who protected with what they had, with what they were born with, not with magic or scrolls or long-earned wisdom. With claws, with things that they would always have, things that everyone could use. Within a moon cycle, they could all fight.
Of course, there were always stragglers. Sorcerers and sages who wanted to work with what they had. Eucalyptus left them alone. She didn’t bother. But they always watched her teaching in the shadows, watched as she performed and brought down small prey to add to the once predominantly plant-based food stores of the clan. Whether it was envy, disdain, or something completely different, she did not know. But she continued, confident that in the end all they would have would be themselves, and their might.
And their own might would be the thing that would, finally, make things right.