Bamboo

Scout tilted his head curiously at the etchings in the dirt, and then cawed idly at Bamboo.
“Not my best work…” Bamboo admitted, scraping helplessly at the outline of the sea he had drawn on the ground. “I know, Scout, that I’ve sketched these Earth realms many times, but I can’t see myself doing anything else.”

Scout didn’t answer. Bamboo looked over at him. He was perfectly still, but not watching anything.
“What are we waiting for?” Bamboo inquired. His familiar was still motionless.

A small gust of wind passed the pair, and Scout cawed shortly, extending his wing.

“I'm not going back to Wind territory,” He answered sadly. “I may have drawn up this trade route many times, but there is an interest for it, by merchants, and I can’t make ends meet any other way.”

The wind had rustled the shrubbery fringing his cartographic drawing, which detailed a draft of a map for merchants navigating the area. Any good cartographer knew that a map must be tailored to its audience. The map was to clearly outline the trade route, as well as nearby rest-stops, with minimal attention to natural features, especially ones far from the road itself.

He turned away, dropping the stick he had been drawing with. Scout hopped in front of him, cawing indignantly.
“I won't hear it,” Bamboo said, and the gull squeaked with annoyance.

The whole way home, Scout hounded him, scrambling onto his brown scales from every angle and cawing at him. Bamboo swished him away with his long tail, but his familiar only came back, hanging on one way or another, to his bag or his decorated wings.

“Alright!” He relented as they descended into his den. “We can map the Wind region, if you think it would make me happy. It wouldn’t. Nobody uses maps there - they just get blown away -” The gull’s crying began again. “- But I’ll do it! Don’t worry.”

His friend hopped up and down, satisfied with having won, and then settled in his nest in the corner of the room.

“I’ll pack tonight, and we can go at dawn.”

The following day, Scout awoke to find him busy at work with final preparations. In an attempt to be helpful, Scout gestured to the hat that lay abandoned on his floor.

“A hat?” Bamboo asked. “Don’t be silly, Scout. No-one takes a hat to the Wind region!”

It was nearly evening when the pair arrived in Reedcleft Ascent, having half-walked, half-flew their way over Ashfall Waste (Bamboo’s health was tenuous, and he preferred not to venture through Plague territory). Their stomachs ached for food. Looking all around the gusty steps of the Reedcleft Ascent, Bamboo’s eyes eventually fell on a tall, pale inn, a little unstable from the wind but altogether doing its best to be fortified against it. It had an attractive, palace-like air about it, and he felt invited to its door.

Stepping inside, he breathed relief at the smell of cooking food. The food he and Scout had that night was satisfying, as Wind food always is. The fascinating culture, he thought, always leads to the most surprising dishes.

A long sleep was good for his bones after a day of travelling, and in the morning, he was rested and ready to begin surveying the area.

It wasn’t long before Bamboo had his first draft of a map drawn up - he knew the way of the land well, and Scout was always a useful eye in the sky when holding papers best called for Bamboo himself to stay on the ground. Scout nodded approvingly at his draft. In his inn room that night, he set about making some inked copies, which detailed in full the towering bamboo, and showed with deft lines the gusty ravines that lay below.

Smiling, he extinguished his candle with a blow, and retired to bed.

In the morning, the dragon rolled up his new maps and placed them carefully in his carry-bag. Addressing Scout, he said,
“Well, what now? Do we leave?”

Scout rumbled his throat uncertainly.

“Let’s go outside and see.”

After a while of aimless wandering, they found themselves drifting further toward the centre of the Windswept Plateau. When he was just about to hop off the Reedcleft Ascent and head into town, he was knocked nearly off his feet by a force against his side.
“Bamboo! Fancy seeing you here!”

Before him, a familiar skydancer stood, with spotted cyan markings that all seemed to look curiously at him.

“Hello, Catacomb.” Bamboo breathed.
“Don’t be like that, Bamboo! It’s always good to see an old denmate. Hey, what are you doing all the way out here? I know you grew up here, but I’ve never known you to venture back.”
“Mapping.”
“Mapping! I should have guessed. Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know where the inns are, would you?”
“Actually, I would. I dedicate my life to knowing where the inns are, Catacomb.”
“And I’m eternally grateful for it.”
“There’s a couple of inns around, but the one with the most debauchery is that way, if that’s what you’re looking for. Hey, would you like a map?”
“I’d be delighted with one.”

Bamboo headed toward the inn with Catacomb. It was a different one to the one he had stayed at the night prior - this one was squat and shack-like, forever with live music playing away within. Catacomb studied his map intently, squinting first at the paper and then up at the inn.
“Ah, I’ve just found where we are on this map!”

Bamboo heaved a sigh, and Catacomb chuckled.
“I’m messing with you. Let’s go in.”

“Hello!” A hearty, accented voice bellowed as the two dragons came in. A little bell jingled above them too, announcing their arrival. Bamboo was sure he saw the dots connect in Catacomb’s head as he linked the innkeeper’s accent to Bamboo’s own, lightly accented voice.

“Hello, pair of you! And bird! Welcome to my humble inn. What is this you have?”

The stocky, dark skydancer leaned over the smaller Catacomb, studying the map he held.

“This artwork! Our region! Tell me, traveller, where do you get this?”

He looked over from Catacomb to Bamboo, who was heavily decorated with maps, bags, and navigation tools.

“I see! Wonderful cartographer, do you sell your wares?”
“Do I sell my wares..?” Bamboo repeated in wonder. He had not considered potentially the biggest customer for Wind maps: actual Wind residents. “Yes! I do!”
“Look at my bare wall, Traveller. It makes you sad.” Indeed, the wall he pointed to was a little dingy without anything decorating it, in contrast to the wonderful Wind souvenirs that adorned the other walls of the reception-room. “Traveller, a map is needed, surely, to show our friends where they are. I would love to purchase.”

Bamboo dug through his maps to find one of a suitable scale, and rolled it out against the wall to compare. He needed some help from Catacomb with this on account of his little arms.
“It’s wonderful. Please, take this.”

The innkeeper rifled under the desk from some time, and Catacomb and Bamboo heard the clattering of currency. He came back with a large bag of gems and treasure.
“All of this? Are you sure..?”
“Get out of here before I change my mind!” He laughed warmly. Bamboo carefully tucked the money away with the other possessions in his bag.
“Thank you kindly, Sir. You’ve given me new hope about my trade.”
“I am glad about it! You deserve it.”

Bamboo departed from Catacomb not long afterwards, and on their flight back, he spun through the air with excitement.
“They want Wind maps, Scout! They want them! Oh, Scout, we’re going back, as soon as I’ve gotten home and put my tools in order. How exciting!”

Bamboo’s walls would soon be adorned with proportioned sketches of his beloved former home. Don’t hesitate to ask him for a map; he has plenty.
-ghostpath