Marinbad

Marinbad bowed his head to allow his large, branched horns under the cave. Underfoot, the entrance was lined with thorns, but Marinbad knew it inside and out, and he hadn’t stepped on one of the jagged, tangled vines in months. This place was his solace. His singular company inside the low hollow was a large Janustrap that grew, curling upward, in the corner. Other than that, the cave was cool and quiet. Light filtered through the mouth of the cave, illuminating his translucent, copper-coloured wings.

He hadn’t been caught here as of yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he was.

Curling up, Marinbad prepared himself for a short sleep.

The day was warmer than usual. Unfortunately, the smooth rock of the cave walls shielded most of this warmth from those within, and when Marinbad awoke, he found himself deathly cold. The Janustrap filled the cave with a heady, mulchy aroma. Quietly, Marinbad promised the plant he’d find it some food when he got a chance. It must be hard to attract anything close enough in the deepest corner of a cave.

Getting up stiffly, he stretched and squinted to look outside. It was late afternoon now, and the deep glow of the sun seemed to have woke him. It was low on the horizon, angled inside, illuminating what little there was to illuminate in the dark hollow.

Unluckily for him, this would be the day that he was caught in his secret hiding-place.

“Who goes there?!” A voice roared from outside. Marinbad hazily looked around. At the brow of the cave, a tiny fae dragon stood confidently.

“Marinbad?” The fae inquired.

“Oh… Hello…” Marinbad answered meekly. He now saw that he was speaking to Maven. “I wasn’t expecting visitors,” He added in way of explanation.

“I didn’t expect castaways! What are you doing out here, Marinbad?”
“It’s nothing. Just a place I like to come sometimes,” He answered vaguely, crawling out of the cave. He winced again at the light, still desperately tired. He shook his head to eliminate some of his fogginess, and looked back on at Maven. Maven stared at him searchingly.

“Well,” Maven said, “I know I won’t get a straight answer from you. Supper’s waiting. Let’s go.”

Marinbad followed, crawling out of the cave to walk behind Maven. He looked back at the cave, silently thanking it and bidding goodbye to his plant friend.

Maven and Marinbad walked back to the clan territory in silence. The thorny ground cast long shadows. Likewise, the high-towering trees made a line of tall, curling figures on the ground. Being so lost in thought, Marinbad hardly noticed when he and Maven had reached the clan.

After supper, Marinbad busied himself sharpening swords for the fighters. The weapons-house was a beautiful gothic structure - with the swords piled haphazardly within it, in classic dragon fashion. Others approached him, and he chatted lightly with them, silently praying that Maven had not spread the news about his secret hideout. He wasn’t fond of talking about himself; conversations about his strange behaviour made him uncomfortable. Although the regular cave naps were mostly to alleviate his near-chronic fatigue, they certainly must have looked odd.

A spark from one of the sharpened weapons snapped him back to attention. He patted out the little ember created on the floor. It seemed like he’d gotten away with keeping his privacy, at least for now.