Monteith

Monteith. “Of the Mountain.” A title, rather than a name. The same could be said of Gaoler, though there are few alive who remember its origin. Regardless, these titles are all she has for names, and she holds them close - as closely as she does her duties. Her place is to watch over this mountain, this valley, to keep these lands safe - and to keep what is within them concealed. She has done so for lifetimes. But now, for the first time in decades - centuries? - she has been called to actively uphold that duty, instead of merely lying in wait.

She has been sitting here, motionless, waiting and watching for them to come through the gorge long before she ever heard their claws against the stone. The shadows whispered to her of their presence hours ago, and she has been sitting here ever since. Now, at last, her patience is rewarded by her first glimpse of the invaders, and the sight of them makes her lips peel back from her fangs in disgust.

Guardians. Two of them. Thick, sturdy creatures that look as though they should be brainless thugs, but she knows better. The female is in the lead, and just from the sight of her Monteith knows she is trouble. There is arrogance simmering everywhere within her - in the arc of her neck, the gleam of her scales, the disdainful wandering of her eyes. Green eyes, thankfully. Were they yellow, Monteith would have already made her move. Light dragons were the worst sorts of fools, curious beyond all reason, believing that every secret should be dragged out into the open and poked and prodded and studied and dissected until nothing remained of it. They did not understand that sometimes the shadows sheltered things for a reason - that the truth was not the answer to all their ills.

Nature dragons were their own sort of problem, however. They had a tendency to dig deep into a land, spread their roots until they could not be moved, warping and changing the earth around them to suit their own needs. Especially if they were looking to nest, which this pair was. A pair, because the second guardian was male - azure scales, a craggy face, and solemn eyes of a matching green.

Looking between them, Monteith did not see any sort of fondness. The male walked behind the female at a considerable distance, and kept his head low to the ground, almost in subservience. The two had mated, yes, but not for love. Necessity, she guessed. Despite the female’s pride, she was in poor condition. All the grooming in the world could not hide the fact that she was underweight, and her claws were ragged. Monteith guessed the only reason the pair was walking was because they did not have the strength to fly. Refugees, then. The shadows had whispered of such things - upheavals and plagues in other parts of the world. It had never concerned her, save for the possibility of it bringing creatures like these to her doorstep.

Their weakened state would make them easier to deal with - though even if they had been at their full strength, she would not have been concerned. She had weathered many battles, defeated many foes, and though she took no pleasure in the task, it did not phase her. Not when the price of failure was so high. Yes, these two would have to go--

And then, a flicker of movement, just on the heel of the female, a twitch of something in the grass. Monteith tensed, her claws gripping the stone beneath her. A familiar? Or--

A ruby head popped through the grass for an instant, and red claws flashed in the sunlight as the Mirror hatchling clawed at the red female’s tail. Monteith tensed, expecting retaliation, but the female only turned her head and let out a low warning growl. The hatchling’s head disappeared back into the grass, but now Monteith could see the faint ripple of her movements as she followed the red Guardian.

And there were more. More ripples, more hatchlings - the reason the Guardians were walking so far apart. She could catch only glimpses - a flash of green stripes here, brown dapples there, a peacock-spattered wing - but they were there.

Why? None of them looked to be either Guardian’s - the red Mirror was speckled with harlequin markings the female did not share, and her eyes were Plague crimson. Guardians had protective natures, certainly, but even they would not needlessly take on hatchlings from other clans. Unless they were refugees, too. Just what had happened out there in the world, while she was in her valley?

Monteith shook herself. It did not matter. More dragons merely meant more problems, more chances for something to go awry. She needed to take care of all of them, now, before the Guardians grew strong again, before the hatchlings grew up. Monteith flexed her claws, preparing to spring--

And the Mirror pounced again, this time catching the female’s tail. The female turned, growling again, but there was no malice in it. Rather, she ducked her nose, and the Mirror reached up to bump her head against it, letting out a pleased chirp.

The sound seemed to echo in Monteith’s ears, and her own nose burned as something long-buried stirred within her. She had lived many lifetimes, yes. She had outlived many lifetimes.

Slowly, she found herself easing back down, pressing her belly against the stone. In silence, she watched the little procession continue, her eyes tracking every head that occasionally popped up, every bob in the grass.

Nature dragons could be a problem, at times. They changed their surroundings as they saw fit. But they nurtured them, too, drew out what was necessary and enriched it. Lands under their care blossomed.

This land had not blossomed in some time.

Monteith debated with herself a moment longer, and then closed her eyes in defeat. They could remain here, for now, under her watchful eye. In all likelihood, they would never know of the dangers lurking beneath their feet. If they ever stumbled upon it, she would take action - but only then.

Monteith, the lady of the mountain, Gaoler and jailed, waited and watched.