Dergtober -- day 13 -- Serthis.
Baglis' voice barely carried above the wind that send his fur and whiskers flowing behind him. Down below them, near the river mouth was a steep ravine where the cliffs gave away to the shore.
A lone serthis was coiled amongst the banded rock face; the river foamed and crashed. There was rubble and mud still tumbling to the river, a rockslide had left the cliff trecherous.
She looked lost and exhausted, as Baglis flew lower he could see her wet hair clinging to her face, she had attempted to swim once before and only just managed to pull herself out.
"What are you on about? Its just a monster."
Baglis ignored him and dipped lower; she was clothes in wet leather armour on her chest. Her belly was swollen. His mind flickered to the passage in the dusty field guide he had read some weeks back.
Serthis have been observed to seek nests in caves they return to with each generation. Nesting sites are passed down from mother to daughter, father to son. Even if the nest deteriorates or becomes hazardous over time, they will be reluctant to seek new grounds to raise their broods.
His cousin threw his head back and laughed. He soared over his shoulder, casting a large shadow over Baglis.
"You can't be serious. You'd save one of those poisonous little--"
"They're not poisonous." He snapped, "They're not even venomous."
"You're mad, Bag. That thing won't talk to you--"
"She's not a thing!" He said, whipping his tail about himself, "She's carrying an egg and she needs help. You wouldn't leave a dragon to die, you wouldn't leave an animal to die, you shouldn't leave an anyone to die!"
Before he could be stopped, Baglis spiralled down to the edge of the river. He landed with a skitter of his claws, he wasn't an agile flier. He managed to recover his balance, though there wasn't much room for him on the lip of the rock.
She heard a deep, rumbling hiss. Then came a rattling. The Serthis was poised in a coiled stance, holding a battered spear in front of her. He didn't need to speak her language to know that whatever she was murmuring to him was a desperate warning. She would spill his blood here and let herself drown than let him defile this place.
With a few deep breaths, Baglis lowered his head and closed his eyes. His wings were closed, he wanted to make himself as small as possible. She was still locked in position, ready to lash out and fight.
Baglis lowered his head further to the stone below. For a few minutes, all he could hear was the roar of the river. Perhaps if he was still long enough, he could earn her trust.
He finally opened one eye, she was still staring at him. Tentatively, as she muttered to herself, she put her spear aside and reached out a small hand and placed it on his snout. Baglis exhaled and she jumped instintively. He closed his eyes again. He was going to wait for as long as she needed to trust him.
He felt the cool hand upon his scales again. It combed through the furs on his cheeks. He imagined she was as fascinated as he was in that moment. He looked up as he felt the slightest weight on his shoulders, she was clinging to his mane and the leather straps of his delver's lamp.
He got up one leg at a time looked at his passenger, she shakily nodded at him. With a few powerful flaps they climbed high above the cliffs, he circled on a thermal as he checked on her. Her eyes were shut tight and tears were streaming down her face from the bitter wind. Flying was new to her, it seemed.
When she finally managed to open her eyes, Baglis heard her laugh. For just a moment she let one hand free to feel the wind on her skin and scales. Then she heard her shout, she pulled on his mane as if to steer him. An odd sensation, he thought, but he wasn't going to question it.
He took off to the west towards a wide flat mesa. There gathered atop was a Serthis hunting party, or perhaps a search party. He looked to his passenger who nodded at him and he began his descent.
There was a great uproar as he grew closer and closer to the party, he prayed to the Lightweaver that he wasn't about to felled by eight furious Serthis. He could easily be overwhelmed in their territory, he was a scholar not a fighter, he thought.
He landed as softly as he could manage, the Serthis slithering towards with sickles and spears raised. His passenger slid off of him, he held out a wing to help her to the ground.
She moved in front of him and raised her arms. The party stopped. There was crying and cheers and more rumbling hisses, though Baglis thought they sounded warmer than the warning he had recieved.
They covered her in beautiful fur blankets and fussed over her wet hair. He watched at a distance. The pregnant Serthis glanced at him as the others about her went quiet. She gave him a nod and he bowed back.
The weapons were lowered and he was safe to take to the air once again...
(In my head there's a young serthis out there called Dragon Wing, a name traditionally held by one who has felled a dragon, but earned it a different way...)
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