Bloodspot

Bloodspot wished that she didn't get a traditional Plague dragon name. She didn't like how it seemed to describe death and sickness and all that scary stuff. She worried that this wasn't normal for a dragon from the Rotrock Rim, although she suspected that many other dragons wished that they could change their names too.

Was she just strange? Do any Plague dragons prefer branches to bones, healing to hurting? Or was she the only one who felt she should have been Nature instead? At least, to some extent, she felt this way. But she wasn't sure how her belief would hold when put to the test.

Bloodspot couldn't bring this up, of course. Mentioning the Nature flight was the least welcome in the Scarred Wasteland to anywhere in Sornieth. And she hadn't felt the way she did now when she was younger. But it didn't stop her from wishing she had hatched somewhere else.

"Get up!" Her father snarled at her.

Bloodspot struggled to stand. Her parents were furious that she had earned her name before either of them, so they were happy to take it out on her. They often took her out of the lair to get in fights with monsters, and weren't too eager to come to her aid when they found a group of aggressive podids. She had at least one deep cut on each of her wings, her talons were sore, her tail had been bitten somehow, and she felt a stabbing pain in one of her back legs when she put weight on it. Most of them would probably scar. Bloodspot had more scars than almost any dragon in their clan, which she suspected was mostly thanks to her parents, and partly thanks to the reason she had her name.

Dragons in her clan had to earn their names by proving themselves able to survive, like true Plague dragons. A dragon had no name or standing in the clan until they experienced mortal danger and lived to tell the tale. Of course, they had to have a witness to the situation, or have injuries to show for it. Sometimes Bloodspot wondered how many dragons in the clan hurt themselves just to get their names.

Any dragon could argue that an experience they had earned them a name, and the clan leader, currently a fae named Stagnant, would decide if it was true.

Bloodspot had done things a little differently. In her case, her injuries were enough to convince Stagnant that she deserved a name. And they were also the reason why she didn't want that name anymore.

She flicked her tail in front of her, ignoring her parents. It was the thick tail of a guardian, yet one who hadn't found her charge. She would leave to find it soon. It would be her chance.

But her tail had more obvious significance. Part of it was heavily scarred, the scales looked eaten away in some places, while others it seemed burned, and still other scales had turned a sick green. It looked like several hundred diseases had been loosed on it at once, leaving the tail as a patchwork of destruction.

Bloodspot looked back up at her parents, both of them looking disapproving. "What were you saying?"

Her mother, an imperial, hissed at her. "We were saying that some of the podids got away."

"And this was my fault, why?"

"You are the one with the name, after all," her father said in his deep voice. "Wasn't it your responsibility to stop them?"

Bloodspot was tempted to argue, but she knew that attempting would be exhausting. "Yes, yes it was. But I didn't. So let's go back."

And without another word, she swept her wings down, flying away back to their clan.

Bloodspot remembered the day she got her name. She'd earned it as a hatchling, quicker than any dragon who had ever been in her clan.

It was an accident. She had just meant to play by the Wyrmwound with her friend Aphid, an elderly tundra who somehow found the patience for her ideas, even if he had trouble remembering some of them. He was funny and clever; she was going to miss him when she left the clan.

That day they had gone right up to the edge of the deadly lake, where jagged rocks stuck up around the edges, like teeth surrounding a circular mouth. All-Seeing Shrooms grew up around the edges, their eyes blinking at Bloodspot as she scampered up a rock that extended over the Wyrmwound, making it shudder dangerously as Aphid tried to follow her more slowly.

"Isn't it amazing?" She had asked, staring out over the lake in wonder. It was amazing, shades of yellow and orange and green sludge that oozed slowly like the lava of the Ashfall Waste, and bubbled like the Sea of a Thousand Currents. At least, Bloodspot imagined it was like that. She had never been to either place.

"Yes, of course," said Aphid, peering down over the edges of the rock they were standing on.

"I'll miss this place when I have to leave," she decided. "But maybe my charge will be close! I hope so, at least."

"So do I," Aphid seemed worried, like he wasn't paying attention. She had heard stories about how brave he used to be in his youth, but she supposed anyone got more careful as they got older. After all, Plague dragons were survivors, not just reckless.

What she didn't realize was that she was just reckless.

"Let's not go so close," Aphid suggested. "Come on, your parents will be furious at me if you drown in the Wyrmwound."

"Okay!" Bloodspot followed the tundra along the rock. She was about to hop off onto solid ground, where her friend was already standing, when the slab broke, and she fell towards the lake.

She was lucky Aphid moved quickly. The tundra's head snaked forward and bit her wing, yanking her away. As it was, her tail brushed against the surface of the Wyrmwound.

The effect was instantaneous - Bloodspot collapsed, writhing, as fiery pain burst in her tail. She couldn't see, could hardly feel Aphid lifting her up and carrying her back to their clan. She saw through her hazy vision the faces of several horrified dragons, and then she couldn't see anything at all.

Bloodspot woke up two weeks later, her scales burning up but simultaneously shivering with cold, her throat dry but her snout feeling stuffy, and her tail mangled with her first scars. She would have been proud - scars were a sign that she had lived through hard times, she had always been told. But she didn't feel that way, not after feeling how close to death she knew she'd been.

Since then, she'd received her name, at the same time wishing she hadn't had to earn it in the way she had. Since then, she'd wanted to leave in the Search for her charge. She hoped it wouldn't be close.

Bloodspot knew now, that she was no true Plague dragon. Her living was some kind of fluke - she wasn't at all brave.

And ever since, she had been so afraid that she would often make sure she got too injured early in a fight with a monster, so she could hang back. When she and her parents ran into the podids, she let a couple of them claw her up and break her back leg. Bloodspot could have protected herself with her armored fins, but she didn't want to attack them, and she was mad at her parents for bringing her. Sometimes she wondered if her parents had caught on and just took her out with them because they knew she'd let herself get hurt. If anyone could figure her out, it was her mother and father.

Bloodspot reached her clan lair, a tower half constructed out of bones, half made of an enormous hollowed out rock, curved towards the Wyrmwound. When the clan had first moved there, they had built it with the help of some pearlcatchers' excellent architectural planning. She swooped down, landing outside.

Aphid was there to greet her. "Bloodspot! Are you okay?" He looked concerned, and with good reason. She had yelped in pain when she accidentally put weight on her broken leg.

"My parents again," she grumbled. "I think they're determined to get me killed before I can start my Search. At least it starts tomorrow."

Aphid shook his head. "Those two. But forget about them for a minute, I've wanted to spend some time with you, since you're leaving. Don't you want to go down to the Wyrmwound one more time?"

Bloodspot didn't, but she couldn't tell Aphid that. She hadn't told anyone how earning her name had changed her. And neither she nor Aphid had told anyone that she had gotten that name brushing the edge of the Wyrmwound. They both knew the hatchling tales, that dragons who touched the lake of disease turned into monsters. Logically, everyone understood that it wasn't true, but Aphid had been worried about some of the less logical dragons in the clan. It didn't matter anyway - the horrible sickness she had caught had been more than enough to earn Bloodspot her name. But she could see why Aphid suggested they go back, it was a place of sentimental value to her, if not in the way her friend expected.

"Sure," the guardian said. "I mean, yes. I do."

"Let's go," Aphid opened his furry wings and lifted into the air.

Now? Bloodspot thought. But of course, now. I'm leaving for my Search tomorrow. And I might not ever come back; my charge might force me to stay away from here. And I'm hoping it does.

She felt a wave of guilt before following after Aphid.

It's not like I have a choice, she argued with herself. I have to find my charge. And if it's far, far away, there's nothing I can do about that.

But if it's close by? If my charge is right here in Rotrock Rim? Or if it's a dragon who would come here? What do I choose then?

Deal with that later. I don't even know what my charge is yet. it might be a place. And if it's a dragon, or near my clan, I'll figure it out when the time comes.

Bloodspot sighed as she landed a respectful distance from the Wyrmwound. She had been careful to stay farther from it since she had gotten her name.

Aphid sat down beside her, and together they stared out over the boiling lake. One old tundra, one young guardian.

Bloodspot woke up the next day with a raging headache. Ugh. She awoke to headaches every day since she received her name. One way the Wyrmwound had affected her.

Well, maybe soon I can wake up in a place where I won't have headaches, she thought. That cheered her up a lot.

Do I just... leave? she wondered. Bloodspot had never witnessed another guardian leaving their clan, so she didn't know if there were any traditions pertaining to the event. Was she supposed to give special goodbyes, or whether leaving a note would do. Not that she wanted to leave a note, but she also hated long goodbyes.

She decided that it would be the better choice for her to hang around. She had a feeling that Aphid would never forgive her if she left unexpectedly, not to mention her parents. Bloodspot stretched her fins and left her nest, sitting in the middle of the lair and waiting for everyone else to wake up.

Saying goodbye was certainly long and tedious. Aphid hugged her for almost ten minutes before Stagnant made him stop.

The hardest was her parents. "I guess this is goodbye," Bloodspot said to them.

Her mother gave her a rare smile. "Maybe not. I wish you luck." she looked at Bloodspot's father and added: "I've never understood about you guardians and your charges."

Bloodspot's father gave the imperial an affectionate look. "And you aren't glad that you're my charge?"

Bloodspot flicked her fins out in surprise. She never knew that her mother was her father's charge. No wonder he cared so much about her.

Her father noticed. "Good luck. I hope you succeed. No - I know that you will."

She could see how much confidence they had in her. It made it harder to leave, but she took a step back, then another, and then she could turn around and fly away, heading north, unsure whether she would find her way back.

Bloodspot kept heading north, planning to start her search in Dragonhome. Every night, she landed, dug a quick hollow for her to curl up inside, and continued the next morning. She encountered no other dragons, but then again, not many dare to travel in the Abiding Boneyard.

Eventually, the desert-like terrain gave way to what appeared to be hot-springs, like smaller versions of the Wyrmwound. Bloodspot didn't like the memories they brought back, but they were the quickest way to get to Dragonhome, so she continued that way.

Three days later, she reached the deep crevice that marked the border between the Scarred Wasteland and Dragonhome. She dug a place to sleep on the Plague side, next to one of the hot-springs.

Bloodspot wished she had anticipated that the hot-spring would flood in the night. Her eyes snapped open suddenly to find that she was half covered in the goop and could feel a burning sensation against her scales.

No, she thought. No, no, no, it can't be. Not again! I must be dreaming, right? This can't be real.

As her hole began to fill up, the pain in her scales were a sure sign that it was not a dream, and that she had to get out of there. Bloodspot beat her wings, careful not to touch them to the boiling sludge, and flew straight up.

The hot-spring was completely flooded, the ooze-y water inside pouring over the edges and into the chasm between the Scarred Wasteland and Dragonhome. Bloodspot had decided to stay on the Plague side to stay close to home for one more night. Why couldn't I even have that without it being a disaster? she wondered.

Bloodspot landed on the Dragonhome side and looked back. She didn't want to leave her home like this, but she had been forced to. She had been happy there too, sometimes. With a nostalgic sigh, she looked down at her scales. They seemed to be fine, which was worrying. In her experience, viruses that looked harmless tended to be more deadly.

What was that place anyway? she thought. Was it a quarantine zone? Oh, I hope I didn't stumble across one of those! What if I'm really sick now? I might not be able to find someone to help me. And it's not like any dragons from the Nature flight would do anything, what with the broken truce.

Bloodspot felt fine. Maybe she was worried over nothing. Maybe it was a very weak infection, something that just made her scales ache. Surely she could keep going and be okay.

I don't think I can sleep now. I can probably reach the Terraclae soon. Yes, I'll start there.

She turned her back on the Scarred Wasteland and flew away.

As the sun began to rise, a sudden, exhausted feeling washed over her wings. Bloodspot landed and continued walking, the Terraclae in sight. She wondered if her tiredness was normal or if she was sick. Then she told herself to stop worrying so much, that her itchy eyes and raw feeling in her throat were just a product of a mostly sleepless night, then steeled herself and entered the city.

Since she'd know her charge when she saw it, Bloodspot decided to walk around, trying to catch sight of all she could in the city. She chose to accomplish this by taking a circuitous route around, so she was the most likely to have searched all of it.

Bloodspot began walking around the city. She had expected to get some funny looks, as a Plague dragon on Earth territory, but the Terraclae was fairly close to the Scarred Wasteland, so there were plenty of other Plague dragons around. She felt better not being so conspicuous.

Except to Nature dragons. Dragonhome was on Nature's border too, and to the dragons of the Viridian Labyrinth, she was definitely conspicuous. Green eyes watched her warily, so Bloodspot gave their owners quick glances before trying to ignore them. As the morning passed, she got more and more tired. She also started to feel more sick, although she tried not to pay attention to it. And what was more, she kept seeing something at the edge of her vision, like a dragon following her, but when she looked they would seem to disappear. Despite not knowing what she kept seeing, the dragon felt familiar to her.

Eventually, she decided that she out to find out who it was that was following her. She waited until she spotted the dragon again, waited a moment, then pounced.

Or tried to. Bloodspot's muscles - which had been aching, along with other signs of sickness - gave out unexpectedly, and she collapsed in a heap at the coatl's feathery feet. She gasped in pain, then gasped again when she felt a rush of tiredness, making her vision blur.

"Hey! Hey, are you okay?" The coatl asked. He was different from most coatls; instead of bright feathers, he was shades of grey, with light purple around his wings. His eyes were green, meaning he was a Nature dragon. It made sense - he looked different from every Plague dragon she knew. He didn't have a single scar.

What was more, when Bloodspot saw him, her head snapped up. She felt more alert, as if she'd been half asleep her whole life and only now was she fully awake. She understood now why they had felt familiar.

No way, she thought, blinking. I can't have found my charge so easily. Not right away.

Then she remembered that the coatl had asked her a question. "I'm fine," Bloodspot said, trying to stand. Her talons felt big and clumsy, while her tail felt unnaturally light. She wondered if this was because of the sickness or finding her charge.

"You don't look very fine," the coatl observed. "You look dizzy. Are you sure you're all right? I'm Greyleaf, by the way."

She was dizzy, she realized as Greyleaf mentioned it. Bloodspot shifted on her talons, swaying, trying to stay standing. "I'm... I'm..." she interrupted herself, coughing.

"Definitely not fine," Greyleaf decided. "You came from the Scarred Wasteland recently?"

Bloodspot was offended. At least, she thought she was. "I did, but just because I'm coughing a bit doesn't mean I just came from there! Have some perspective!"

Then she remembered that she was probably yelling at her charge and felt guilty.

"Sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have yelled. You see, I think I'm supposed to... supposed to... thuppothed..." halfway through the sentence her tongue felt huge, so she had trouble finishing it. "Protect you," she managed to finish.

The coatl looked confused, which was kind of an adorable expression on his face. "Protect me? From what? I'm fine. And not in the lying way that you say you are."

"I am really fine, not lying," Bloodspot insisted, then fell down. "And I definitely meant to do that, too."

"Sure," Greyleaf replied skeptically. "Look, I see that you're a guardian, and I get now that you're saying I'm your charge, so if you want to protect me then you have to go with me back to the Viridian Labyrinth, where somebody can fix whatever's happened to you to get you like this." He waved his wings at Bloodspot's slumped form.

"And there's no talking you out of that plan?" Bloodspot asked. Her eyelids felt heavy. Really, did she have to stay awake? "Not even a liiiitle?"

"Nope!" Greyleaf informed her way too happily, but Bloodspot couldn't be bothered to care. She was surprised and relieved that she'd found her charge so soon, worried about him being a Nature dragon, and feeling homesick on top of everything. Greyleaf reminded her of a younger, perhaps more cheerful version of her father. She closed her eyes and missed the rest of what her charge was saying.

When Bloodspot opened her eyes again, she was underground. She could tell she wasn't in Dragonhome anymore - the tunnels were earthy, not hard stone. Trails of vines wove their way up the walls, using each other to get higher. Greenish sunlight came in through the nest entrance, through a pair of giant leaves that worked as a door. She must have been in the Viridian Labyrinth.

Bloodspot shook out her fins. She felt fine. Normal. Definitely not like she had before. She stood up and headed towards the exit, only to walk into Greyleaf coming in.

"You're awake!" the coatl cheered, wrapping his feathery wings around her. "Thank goodness! I'd hate if I had to drag you all the way here for nothing!"

"And because you wanted me to live?" Bloodspot asked dryly, settling back in the nest she'd awakened in.

"Yes, that too," Greyleaf said. "But you've never had to move a sleeping guardian. It's really hard!"

"How long was I asleep?" she asked him, sitting down.

"Four days," Greyleaf explained. "It took me three to get here, and you've been asleep for one more."

"Where is here?"

"The roots of the Behemoth."

Bloodspot started. "You took me to the roots of the Behemoth?"

"I thought you'd be startled. You're lucky I made it, too. Your scales were turning grey, and unless you're me - you know, grey already - that's not a good thing."

"And no one was mad that you brought a Plague dragon right up to the home of the Gladekeeper herself?"

"Oh no, absolutely everyone in the clan was mad," Greyleaf smiled mischievously, and it occurred to Bloodspot that he might make a good Shadow dragon. "My parents most of all. But I insisted."

"Why?"

Greyleaf blinked. "We're Nature dragons, aren't we? Isn't that the point, to help others?"

Bloodspot thought about that. She hadn't considered how Nature dragons thought of themselves. She had vaguely wished she was one after her tail dipped into the Wyrmwound, but didn't think of what that would be like. And she had heard stories as a hatchling of the Nature dragon who went insane and released a weapon of the Gladekeeper in the northwest of the Scarred Wasteland, killing so many Plague dragons, no one knew the actual number. Nature dragons were scary, she had been taught. Certainly not nice or funny or someone who seemed like they might become a good friend, like Greyleaf.

Certainly not worthy charges. Come to think of it, charge or not, her father would probably tell Bloodspot to abandon Greyleaf at first chance.

"Thanks for saving me," Bloodspot said at last.

That seemed to confuse Greyleaf even more. "You're... thanking me? Are you a Plague dragon or not?"

"Hey, we can be polite!" The guardian protested. Then she reflected on her family. "I mean, not always, but we can!" She shook her head, and realized that for the first time in ages, she didn't have a headache upon waking up. "Whatever. I'm going to go get some air."

She stood up to head for the exit to the room, but Greyleaf opened his wing to block her way. "Actually, you can't."

Bloodspot glared as she stopped in her tracks. The coatl was much smaller than her, and clearly softer. They had never had to constantly fight deadly diseases like her. "And why can't I leave? I might be on enemy territory, but I'm sure I can handle anyone who doesn't like my presence."

Greyleaf flinched at the implications of her statement. "It's not that. The roots of the Gladekeeper's tree might be healing you, but you could still be contagious, so the elders of the clan decided that you have to stay under quarantine until we're sure that you won't infect anyone."

"Are you kidding me?" Bloodspot growled. "You mean you and the dragons in your clan won't allow me to leave this room?"

"Not for a couple days, at least." Greyleaf seemed regretful. "Look, back in the Terraclae, I convinced an Earth dragon to help me carry you here, and she's being quarantined too. It's not just about you - it's a safety measure. I'm only allowed to come and go because our mages worked some kind of special magic that means I'm extra protected from disease."

The guardian lay down again, muttering curses under her breath. She wondered if Greyleaf could even stop her if she decided to leave anyway. The other Nature dragons couldn't possibly be strong enough to prevent her from leaving either, right? She might have always liked the idea of a place where everything was green, healthy, and beautiful, but here, she looked like an enemy. She couldn't stay - how would she know she'd be safe, stuck in one room until these dragons said otherwise? What if one of them decided to take matters into their own hands?

Then Greyleaf settled down beside her. He draped one of his soft wings over her back like a blanket, and Bloodspot found herself leaning toward him and his cozy feathers.

No, she couldn't leave. Especially since her charge was here. Her fate was tied to Greyleaf's, now and forever. She would have to trust him.

"I can bring you anything you need," Greyleaf promised. "And I'll keep you company whenever you like. Just be patient, and you should be able to leave soon enough. Can you be patient for me?"

"Ffffffiiiiiiiiiiine," said Bloodspot, shifting positions to get comfortable. She wasn't used to sleeping on a nest of soft moss and leaves - her nest in the Scarred Wasteland had been a hole carved in the rock and bone. Her fins kept getting caught. "But only because you're my charge. If it was anyone else asking, I would be gone by now."

"And probably slowly dying again," Greyleaf said, sitting up and reaching into a pouch made of leaves that was strapped across her shoulders and chest. "Like you were before. Denying it all the way."

"I resent that accusation."

"Resent it all you like - it's true." The coatl removed a jar of some kind of salve and dipped his claws in it, then began to rub it into Bloodspot's scales.

She hissed and recoiled, because it stung, but Greyleaf lunged and held her still. He was surprisingly strong, or maybe Bloodspot was just weaker than she'd thought. "That hurts," she complained.

"Yes, but it's healing some of the surface damage and helping you survive," Greyleaf said, continuing his work. "Isn't that what Plague dragons are all about?"

"We are. But we don't really believe in medicine, or whatever. We live or die by our own merits only."

"Well, that's..." Greyleaf stopped himself from continuing as he finished applying the salve. "Different," he finished diplomatically. "But without medicines like this one, you wouldn't have lived. Lend me your tail, please."

Bloodspot flipped her tail around so that it was within his reach, and he began undoing some bloody bandages that were on it, then began wrapping new ones. "Who was the Earth dragon who came with you?" She asked, changing the subject.