Dragon's Hoard

Between dreams and reality

Everything there was black and grey, flecks of ash fluttering in the air.

White saw black shapes fluttering in the sky, driven by a burning wind, falling to the ground in erratic trajectories. They were burned leaves, some of which had kept their shape so well that he could still see the delicate tracery of their veins before they dissolved into dust the moment he touched them.

A feral, desperate scream scream jolted him into alertness. He turned around and looked toward the sound, and there, lying on the ground there was his friend. There was a hole in his chest, with blood painting the mud puddle red.

The lying man lifted one arm, causing his shirt to slide down farther, exposing not only the small bruise on his neck, but also the scar of a burn on his shoulder.

He saw his lips moving. The man was saying something. But he was too far away; he couldn't make out the words.

Unconsciously he took a few steps closer to get a better view. It didn't work. His vision was still blurry. He looked up at the sky. It was raining. When had it started raining? Why didn't he noticed?

He just lowered his gaze when a sudden explosion of red fire engulfed him, stunning him with its force and a terrible stench of burning hair and cloth reached him, together with a sweeter, subtly more nauseating smell that he remembered from long ago. Frying fat sizzled and popped. He threw himself on his knees beside the destroyed dragon's body.

He fought for breath and thought he would die. The last thing he saw were the two figures surrounded by fire.

"Arthit!"

Somewhere in the distance he heard a door slam open and the sound snapped the nymph out of his vision.

Kongpob stumbled, surprised he hadn't been the only one calling the name of that little pest.

What was happening?

The mother of the human and Tiny's closest friends, including their familiars, were all in the small living-room. The presence of the twins surprised him the most. Nymphs couldn't stray too far from their puddle. The farther away they get from water and the weaker they become. It could mean only trouble.

So...

"What the hell is going on here?"

White looked at him with a sad expression. "You... Know nothing? Arthut said he'd tell you."

Kongpob inwardly clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Tell me what? He just-"

"He's going to die." Black interrupted what surely was to escalate into a rant.

Kongpob's heart seemed to slow. Each second stretched into a year. Time seemed to freeze. Then he scoffed in an effort to hide the apprehension and turmoil he was feeling.

Instinctively his eyes roamed around the room, but didn't dare to speak. Eventually he met Ms Rojnapat, almost gasping when he saw her dark eyes staring back at him, studying him. Kongpob would never admit that but he always felt slightly intimidated by that woman. Well, now he knew why.

"Kong, where is my son?" The older Dragonskin asked, walking up to him.

"I don't know."

"Kong..."

The woman reached out for him, but he instinctively slapped her hand away. For a moment they seemed frozen, locked in each other's astonished gaze.

"I see..." She sighed finally, her voice trailing off defeatedly. "So he told you..."