Nameless

n-aim-les | Having No Name

Scavenger

The darkness was her mother, a soft hissing voice that she swore she remembered through the sticky flesh of her egg. Her father was the calm monotony in each drop of water, a demure plip and an answering plop. He left traces of his presence on the rocks around, cool moisture to cling to. It was one of her first comforts.

When she scrabbled forth from her egg, at last, she was alone. Nothing but moisture at her feet, no welcoming parents' claws. She didn't know that she was missing anything-- she knew only the dark and the damp. To her, they were welcome enough.

The hunters' instincts within her proved to be invaluable. Though small, her fierce growls echoed through the cave were enough to scare off most predators. The others she ran from. She was quick, and clever, and she could always find meat if she waited long enough. She learned the inhabitants of her home, which ones were weaker and which were stronger. They obeyed the unspoken rules of hierarchy, and she grew stronger over time, marked not by days but by erosion.

When the gentle drip drops of her single-egg nest had eaten into a new layer of stone, the world changed.

Out of the Glaring Chasm, the sometimes blindingly bright hole in one of the walls of her home, other dragons emerged. She didn't know them as such, their forms being so different than hers, but in time she would fill the holes in her knowledge. They came upon her in curiosity, and she hissed and fought, slashing with deadly claws, turning so that the poisonous gems caked on her sides threatened them. After a time, they came to a standstill; she was outnumbered, and they didn't want to risk losing one of their number to take her down.


Info by Twist

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