Ami

The Treasure Hunter

It had started with a pile of coins.

Faintly glimmering beneath piles upon piles of forgotten memories, Ami was drawn to them like a moth to a flame. It was as though there was a force suffocating the air, dragging her presence towards the shimmering, dusty gold. And though it was the first time she had experienced such a sensation, it wouldn’t be the last.

At the time, she didn’t know. She didn’t know that this seemingly innocent power--to be able to identify the location of treasure--was something far more sinister. She didn’t know that her search for gold, for more, would take over her life. She didn’t know that she would destroy her sanity, her friendships, her life, for the pursuit of it.

But being young, and blinded by light that gleamed off the golden coins, she began to use her ability practically every day, until she could do it mindlessly. Ami would feel a slight tingling, a tightness in the air, and her limbs would already be heading in that direction. A treasurer hunter without a map.

She told no one of what she could do. Paranoid of being abused, or shunned, for her power, Ami hid it from her clan. The latter grew increasingly suspicious, however, as she amassed a large hodgepodge of treasures--seemingly out of thin air. Mutters trailed behind her like a conspicuous cape, and rumors swirled.

She must be a thief.
Dabbling in dark magic, I suppose.
How else would she get that much treasure?
It’s unfair, that’s what it is.
She doesn’t belong here.

The whispers gradually rose in a crescendo, until Ami could ignore them no longer. She began to confine herself to her house, resisting her wanderlust and the urge to find more. She knew it wouldn’t be long before her clan started to bite instead of bark, and she needed to be prepared.

Ami had always had a fondness for treasure hunts, and this hadn’t faded as the winters sped by. As a hatchling, she and her siblings would participate in little hunts her parents laid out, and though they weren’t intricate, they were one of her best memories.

Thus, an idea sparked in her head. She hid her hoard. All of it.

The only clue she left indicating where was on a sheet of parchment paper, wrinkled with age, scrawled with a strange code she had created herself. It was complex, entangled with thorns and barbs and red herrings, and she doubted anyone would ever find the hoard.

But the right dragon would come along. They always did.