Vulture

“Something’s wrong....”

These were the words that greeted Vulture’s entrance to the world. It wasn’t just her face, which had huge, yellow-green pustules where normal Plague eyes would be. She was shriveled, wizened, almost like some alien fruit.

Her skin was covered with what seemed to be fine down. On another dragon, it might’ve been beautiful: a silvery coating of something halfway between feathers and fur. On her, however, it grew thick and greasy. Her skin, underneath, was dull brown, unpleasantly cracked and bumpy to the touch.

In another clan, she might have been cast out immediately. But this was a Plague clan: She was a runt, true, but a runt with life inside her yet, and the dragons around her respected that need to survive.

Her appearance repelled many—even in the Plaguelands, there were those who couldn’t stomach how strange she was. She seemed more like a vulture than something born of dragonkind, and that word, in time, became her name.

But more often than not, those who took charge of her, who cared for her, were those with the warmest hearts, dragons who would not turn away any hatchling, no matter how repulsive others claimed she looked. And so from these gentle caretakers, Vulture learned—to be kind, to be caring, to always be willing to help.

It was still hard for her, and not just because of her strange appearance. She was not as strong as other dragons, and struggled to keep up with her siblings. Exhaustion, it seemed, was always waiting to drag her down; far too often, she got left behind. Sometimes there were dragons nearby who were willing to help out. Most of the time, she had to get up on her own.

There were other difficulties. Many dragons had the same pustules across their faces; they reported no loss of vision, but this proved to be untrue for Vulture. She could see the world only in shades of red and green.

It was a sad day when the healers realized this. She enjoyed helping them sort out the plants they used in medicines, but her color blindness meant this was no longer feasible—too many chances of her making mistakes. Vulture accepted the information quietly, but even with her deformed face, there was no way to miss her drooping wings and ears, or how she hung her head. Even something as mundane as sorting plants had been denied to her—it seemed tremendously unfair.

“There are other ways you can help,” the healers ventured, and Vulture perked up in anticipation. “You could help the smiths...or the clothiers...or perhaps...”

She tried all those and more. She worked with the smiths—their tools and creations proved too heavy for her. She worked with the clothiers—her color blindness resulted in some strange apparel combinations. Scavenging was too strenuous, hunting and fishing more so. She bounced from one task to another, wanting to help out, but struggling to fit in...

Vulture did find her place in the clan eventually: two, in fact. She found that most familiars weren’t frightened of her, and she was happy to care for them whenever other dragons could not. It didn’t matter what she looked like; they sensed the goodness in her heart, and bathed her in the same unconditional love she’d longed for as a child.

The clan’s younger hatchlings approached her—drawn, perhaps, by the familiars, or their own curiosity, or both. Many of them were initially repelled by Vulture’s appearance. But her warm words, her calm voice, drew them back in. The adults watched carefully at first, worried that she would make mistakes...and in time, they, too, learned to trust her.

Vulture’s eyesight might’ve been bad—and by now, she knew that it always would be—but her other senses were keen. She listened closely, learning much, picking up skills and information from the red-and-green world around her. Her senses of hearing and smell grew particularly sharp. Where these didn’t avail her, memory did, and she spent plenty of time jotting down information, filling up dozens of journals. Her clan came to respect this: She might not have been able to do everything she learned, but she could recall it, and was generous with her knowledge besides. It soon became common for them to see Vulture cheerfully spooling out trivia for a gaggle of attentive hatchlings—and a few adults as well.

Acceptance by her clan, in roles she was happy with...yet Vulture’s life remained far from ideal. She never became as vigorous as her clanmates, and while they had grown used to her, other dragons certainly had not. The clan received frequent visitors, and all too often, their reactions upon seeing Vulture were to recoil and gasp in horror.

“It’s all right, she won’t hurt you,” the clan diplomats said. They spoke softly—to calm not only their guests, but also Vulture herself. “She’s as gentle as a lamb, we assure you. She cares for the children and familiars, and they all love her...”

As a young dragoness, those words had left Vulture content, but now, as an adult, she began to yearn for something else. The clan had done their best to include her in other activities, and over the years, she’d watched other youngsters meet partners, navigate relationships, and form new lives, new families, together. She yearned for the unconditional acceptance, the steadfast companionship of a mate.

“And how did you meet?” she shyly asked her friends. They shared their stories with her, and wiser ones, seeing the longing that lay beneath, gently encouraged her. There was someone out there for her, they were sure. All she had to do was keep looking....

If the years of bouncing from one job to the next had taught Vulture anything, it was that moping wouldn’t do her any good. She was a practical dragoness. If she wanted something, she would have to act on it.

The many tasks she’d tried, everything she’d learned—Vulture now found herself applying these in new and different ways. She learned to make her own salves and oils, things to help soothe her bumpy skin and feathers. Her fingers had always been nimble, and from the clothiers, she learned to sew pelts and hides. Her outfits were quite imaginative, adorned with sprays of dried leaves and the polished skulls of smaller creatures. She reveled in the discovery of this new talent, and as a bonus, she no longer looked like a freshly-plucked chicken.

The hatchlings adored her creations. One afternoon, as she carefully hung strings of skulls upon her wings, it occurred to them to ask where she’d gotten these supplies.

“From the travelers who came to our clan. A group of them visited just last week,” Vulture reminded them. Her bulbous eyes remained unchanging, but underneath, her face creased into a warm smile.

“And where did the travelers come from?”

“Why, from...other places. Lands beyond...”

The hesitation wasn’t because she didn’t know—she’d always known there were lands beyond. Other clans, other worlds. But saying the words aloud now...It made those places seem as inaccessible as the moon.

The prospect of travel had always been unthinkable for her: She could barely see; her mere appearance terrified those who didn’t know her. How would others react when they saw her? Would they be able to accept her? Would she survive?

The questions tumbled through Vulture’s head as she returned to her nest for the night. Always before, she’d considered them with pessimism, but now they were tinged with the brighter glow of the hope that had grown within her over the long and lonely years.

It had started when kind elders had taken her under their wings, and it had grown over time—buoyed by all that she’d learned, all that she’d found herself capable of doing.

If she could beat the odds in the Plaguelands, then perhaps she could thrive elsewhere. She shut away the pessimism that loomed over her, visions of dragons whispering, “She’s hideous...monstrous...something wrong...”

Perhaps someday, somewhere out there, she’d hear somebody say instead, “She’s gentle...strong...something special...”

A new day broke. And Vulture, again, went to round up her young charges. The hatchlings clustered around her, faces alight with curiosity as she produced books, maps...

“Shall we learn together today?”

The children chorused their excited affirmations, and she unrolled the largest map, one that displayed the entire continent as they knew it. The Plaguelands were drawn in ruby-red ink, and Vulture smiled at the children’s awe as they realized...not that it looked so small, but that the world around it was so huge.

Someday, she would see those lands. They would be tinted in red and green, but she would be seeing them through her own eyes, on her own travels. She didn’t doubt for a second that she would get there. She was a vulture, after all. She wasn’t glamorous and never would be...but she could still soar.

~ written by Disillusionist (254672)
all edits by other users

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It was a sunny day, and Vulture approved. She needed to dry out the bones she’d been working on. Once they were done, she’d be able to sew them to a shawl to make a nice, clicking fringe.

Before she could begin her work, however, something caught her eyes. With her bad vision, she couldn’t make out what it was, but she guessed they were...travelers?

They were. A few other clanmates drifted over to meet them: a Pearlcatcher, clearly grown, but with the starry eyes and simple speech of a child. He waved his pearl excitedly, referring to it as though it were a living companion.

His actual living companion was one of the strangest dragons Vulture had ever seen. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the pink, fleshy growths upon the Mirror’s back. The Pearlcatcher was talkative, and he readily answered whatever questions were put to him. The Mirror, in contrast, clearly despised the attention. She shrank away as more dragons approached, and began to hiss like an angry cat.

Vulture felt a surge of sympathy. “Let’s give them space, everyone!” she advised. “They’ve probably come a long way....They might need to rest.”

Her clanmates obligingly drew back. One of them mumbled, “Sorry, Vulture.”

At these words, the Pearlcatcher turned his wide-eyed gaze towards her. “‘Vulture’? You’re a big bird!”

Vulture laughed and smoothed her feathered cloak. “It’s just a costume. Would you like to touch it?”

The Pearlcatcher, however, had only just noticed her pearl sitting next to her foot. His eyes grew even bigger, something Vulture hadn’t thought possible. “And you’ve got an egg! So round...like a pearl...No, it is a pearl! You have a pearl, like me! I’m PearlToo, and here’s Pearl. And Zipper!”

“It’s very nice to meet you all,” Vulture replied with a smile. PearlToo was loud, but she didn’t mind; many of the clan hatchlings were much louder, after all. And it was good he was talkative, as she got the sense that trying to chat with Zipper would be like pulling teeth.

But as she’d mentioned, they did look tired and in need of rest. Vulture picked up her pearl. “You’re welcome to stay, though it’d be best if we told the clan leaders first. Would you like to meet them?”

“Yes, please!” PearlToo said with a broad smile. Zipper merely grunted, but she didn’t shy away either, instead electing to follow them to the leaders’ longhouse.

~ ~ ~
The two travelers had vaguely considered resting in this lair for a few hours before moving on. PearlToo had such a great time poking around, however—and Zipper of course wouldn’t leave him behind—that night fell before they could leave.

Even PearlToo knew better than to venture into the wild Wasteland after dark. “Lots of things with big teeth, with grabby claws!” he stated, his own fingers curling expressively. “But not like Zipper. She has sharp teeth and claws, but she is my friend! And the pink squiggles, they’re good for hugging when it’s cold.”

“That’s good to know,” Vulture said. The travelers were lodging near the longhouse, and she’d felt obliged to check that they were settling in nicely. It had given her a turn to see them curled up together, Zipper’s wriggling tendrils wrapped around PearlToo. For a heart-stopping moment, she’d thought the Mirror had been devouring him, until he’d opened his mouth and started rambling again.

Vulture now noticed plenty of blankets rolled up around Zipper. “Is it cold?”

The Mirror’s eyes rolled in annoyance towards PearlToo. He grinned. “Zipper’s a little scary sometimes, so I make her look softer. Soft is nice.”

“It certainly is,” Vulture agreed. She noticed then that she was addressing them in the same calm tone she used with children. It was hard not to: PearlToo was so childlike, and Zipper more like a huge cat than anything else. Vulture had to remind herself that they were adults and that they had already survived several days out in the Wasteland.

Still, she couldn’t help feeling that she needed to look after them. Over the next few days, as PearlToo continued rambling and Zipper trudged sullenly behind, she got to know them better. Zipper never spoke, but PearlToo did enough talking for both of them. He casually observed how kind everyone in the lair was, often comparing them to people he’d met before. Vulture found herself nodding sympathetically whenever he mentioned run-ins with bullies or casual insults from clan members.

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to pity them. Quite the opposite: She found herself admiring PearlToo’s indomitable optimism, Zipper’s stalwart loyalty and fierceness. Despite their difficult beginnings, they were still moving forward—and determined to go even further.

Vulture considered this with a bit of sadness...and envy. She, too, had longed to travel for some time now. She loved her clan, but like the bird she was named after, she still yearned to soar.

“Be realistic, Vulture. With these poor eyes of yours, you wouldn’t last a week out there,” she chuckled to herself. But the thought kept nagging her as she sorted out some blankets for the travelers. They were younger than she was, and already they’d made it this far. Couldn’t she do the same?

She was still deep in thought when she finally brought the blankets to the lodging house. As she draped one across Zipper’s back, PearlToo piped up, “Your eyes look very far away! Um, I mean...they are googlier than usual. Like jelly. Hello?”

Vulture couldn’t help laughing. Zipper tensed up, startled, but noticed that she was feeling much warmer under the blanket. Her tendrils relaxed, some of them grasping the blanket’s edges. Soon she was comfortably wrapped like a big, bulbous cocoon.

“When I was younger, I wanted to travel, too. I still think about it sometimes.”

“Yeah.” PearlToo spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, as though it were an awesome secret: “It’s all so big. Where do you wanna go?”

“I haven’t really thought about it,” Vulture said—but that wasn’t true. She had thought about it many, many times. The Starfall Isles, Dragonhome, the Tangled Wood...

She slowly came back to reality as she realized PearlToo was quietly reciting the names. Intrigued, she asked, “Which one would you like to visit?”

“All of them! We just gotta decide where to go first. Maybe you can help us pick, and then we’ll all go. You wanna come with us?”

He tossed out the question casually, almost as an afterthought. Yet Vulture felt a rush of exhilaration sweep through her. How strange that someone else had needed to ask the question—yet here it was, and it turned out to be the final push she needed.

“I’ll need to arrange things with my clan first,” she mused, “but yes, I’d love to travel with you.”

Zipper nodded stolidly, and PearlToo beamed. Even his pearl seemed to shine a little bit brighter.

And from that moment on, they were three.

~ written by Disillusionist (254672)
all edits by other users