The fire born: wolf of fire | A Wolf Story

The Navy Dragon

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No dreams ever came, dear reader.

No nightmares stopped by.

No visions or whispers beckoned me.

Nothing was here. Nothing remained—nothing... but me.

My poor mind was as silent as this hostile place. As I knew it, Iceclaws was a forested penumbra of Shaw'Con, one that seemingly lacked the very pride (and life) that filled the rest of Asmara. I knew that for certain long before I ended up imprisoned here — bound by rope and sealed by fate. These carved woods once served to be hunting grounds for us wolves — a habit where the pups of Shaw could safely practice pouching and sneaking up on things. But unfortunately, because of the cold that hovered beneath and over the forest, animals of other natures often attacked and killed the pups.

My father brought me to train under the silver moon a millennium ago. He told me stories about how the earth was tamed by lunar for us to walk upon, and he let me feel the soul squish between my paws and the cool air lick my fur. Then, facing our fears in the dark, we managed to kill an elk that was juicy and well-fed.

It was pretty satisfying.

Now, this ancient soul was piloted by these savaged untamed beasts... and I was sadly trapped amongst them. The sickening drive of these reptiles was solely over their need to mate and the rewarding pleasures that came with dominance. It was in their nature — fueling their will to live as if nothing else mattered. Yet, not even they can withstand the brute power of their instincts.

They sought no fun in scrolls. No dignity in celebrations. No honor in love (like the rest of us). All they are vowed as power and pups, for they'd rather that than the worth of their bleak and hollowed-out future.

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Call it racial; it was one thing that divided every mythical creature of Asmara and why we couldn't bother to ally. Fur and scales, scales to fur, rock, and fire — nothing was meant to connect other than what was seen on the outside. It wouldn't make sense anyway — like a predator living on their prey. How long before they snap? How long before they turn? How long before they eat one another?

I wondered why we were all this way. So untrustworthy — only relying on amongst our kinds and clans. It was the primitive piece of our being we struggled to get rid of. Okay, thanks; we deliberately chose not to love another because we fear what it may risk for the future. And even if a soul — like myself— questioned it, they'd swiftly bury it in the earth.

I snorted once. Father did it often. On the day of the meeting, I asked him for support from the other creatures, and he denied me out of fear.

But now was not the time to squander over fear and trust.

Morning sounded from Shaw'Con ever since I landed in its shadow, and nothing moved near or far; even the churning waves of rain and water earthquakes that rattled its frame had ceased.

I've never heard this chaotic world of mine grow so quiet before. And heartbroken by untamed grief, I bowed my head and began to weep.

So it's true... I painfully thought to myself, letting my burning tears run free. I am the last of Shaw'Con; I am the last wolf/ dragon that remains the one who is spared the coward who most pitied under the shadow of Lunar The Moon goddess.