Runestone

Chapter 1

     Rain poured down from the sky, hammering ruthlessly at the ground below. Flashes of light rumbled through the sky. Occasional sparks of flame overtook the tips of trees, though the rain was such that the fires never lasted long. With these bursts followed roars of rage, screaming fury at the forest. The wind was even more vicious, hissing through branches and hurling them to the ground, battering any being who was foolish enough to travel in such conditions.

     Bryne was certainly feeling like a fool.

     The dragon huddled beneath a great oak, staring at a particularly large branch that could have- and nearly did- break his spine. He was shaking as badly as the leaves overhead, the cold winds and rain suddenly hitting him full force. I nearly died. For the love of life, I nearly died! Why... HOW... did I think this was a good idea again!? He forced a gagging breath, crouching on the wet grass to keep himself steady. Another rumble hissed through the hungry sky, furious he'd managed to escape. Bryne looked up at the clouds, squinting against the rain. Lightning shot from the sky in response. Intense light. Roaring. Shrieking. A yelp of pain as Bryne blindly slammed onto another tree. Another as he landed in the mud. The dragon lay there for a second, blinking hard as he tried to shoo the violent glare from his eyes. He could hardly hear save for the ringing in his ears. The storm raged on, pelting his scales. With each drop, the rain began to feel more and more like hail, as though the storm were pummeling him to death. Bryne felt like it at least, blinded and deafened as he was. Even so, the dragon forced himself to his claws, staring bleakly at the oak he'd been below seconds before. Embers burned on the leaves, and branches were black and charred. The trunk was split in half, down to where the trunk was at its thickest.

     Bryne closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He wanted to just crouch here and wait out the storm. It would be easier. Shelter had to be nearby, though. If he reached it, Bryne knew that he would have access to warmth, food, protection, and company. Bryne took another, trembling breath, shaking his head at himself before he stood and trudged through the mud. He tried to squint through the fog, but even as the glare from the lightning faded, it was near impossible to see out here. The rain was so thick, Bryne's sight remained useless for rainwater invading his eyes. This with the fog and the rapidly dimming light, and the dragon could barely see a few feet before him. More explosions forked overhead, occasionally hitting trees, other times fizzing out into nothing midair.

    The rain showed no signs of stopping.

    If anything, it got stronger. Thicker. Colder. Harder. Only when a particularly hard pellet hit Bryne on the head did he realize that he wasn't feeling things. With a dizzy shout, Bryne started running. Tried to. The mud clawed at him, making every other step a trip. Sometimes literally, sending him snout-first into the ground and propelling him through mud and ice and rocks. Maybe just rocks. He didn't care. The ice was falling heavily now, rapidly growing in size to a dangerous level. Bryne heard that hail could grow to the size of golfballs. That couldn't be true, let alone possible. Oh, gods, he hoped that wasn't true-!

     The wall came out of nowhere. The sudden force on his horns jarred him painfully, thrashing his neck and careened his head to the side. He collapsed once more. Befuddled. That pretty much summed him up as he lay there, suffering the painful drops as they pelted his scales. The impact had jarred his sense of direction, even if he could use the tree as a guide... no, an actual wall. Looking up, he realized he'd finally reached his destination. Probally. It was a house made out of wood and in the middle of the forest. There was a chance it wasn't. He didn't care. So long as it was dry inside.

      He awkwardly pushed himself onto his hind claws, feeling down the wall as he searched for a door, window- anything he could enter from. His long claws scraped against glass at a point. After a moment of blinking more rainwater from his eyes, Bryne was relieved to see that this was, indeed, his destination, and that the inside was cordial, dry, and that the owner of the house was still awake. The inside was lackluster, bearing no form of decoration other than the scattered candles and the potted rose on the end table. It was off of this was the resident tom was eating. He was mostly brown, save for his green underbelly- green, of all colors- and the red and cream triangles on his forelegs and nose. Bryne lifted an arm to bang against the wall. Before he could strike, lightning flashed behind him. The roar of thunder was louder than ever. The tom looked up, saw Bryne with his claws raised, and screeched, springing a foot off his chair, only to land awkwardly on the floor, taking the furniture with him. The tom looked up, his green eyes huge as he stared at the dragon beyond his window. Bryne smiled apologetically. The tom yowled something, scrambling to his feet and racing from the room.