Dragon Blood Bond - A Dragon Rider Fantasy

Chapter 6 - Arrival of the Wayna

Pic is a very loose inspiration to the Wayna people

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"There is blood on the right side of your face."

Nat grimly swallows and vigorously wipes her cheek with her stained sleeve. The sticky feeling had been the warm dragon's blood.

"Is she any better?"

"Barely," Nat replies to the woman, "She's taken feverfew."

The smell of infection is still strong in the open wounds. Throwing the foul rags away, Nat thoroughly cleans the wounds with the last moderately clean scrap of fabric. Half of her clothes are lying on the ground, torn and covered in dark, rancid blood.

Underneath the beating mid-day sun, she picks out the small broken scales that she had missed in the darkness of the moonlight.

The dragon struggles with its breathing, puffs of smoke evaporating out of its nostril with every greasy gasp.

"Come on," Nat urges the white dragon, pressing a little too hard into its shoulder wound.

A deep growl resonates out of its chest as a quick warning. The white dragon's piercing eyes slide open, it's wide black iris flickering to glare at Nat.

"What's its name?" she calls up to the Asdorian woman.

But the woman doesn't reply.

Nat moves her attention away from the piercing dragon eyes to where the prisoner sits. She finds the woman staring into the forest, slender eyebrows dropped in confusion.

What could she be watching so intently?

Nat takes the woman's lead and trains her attention to the mysterious trees. It sighs with soft whistles as the low breeze blows through the flowing branches, gently guiding itself around every leaf.

A rustle follows the soft wind, the quiet sound of something moving about the leaf-covered forest floor. It could be a cautious deer searching for food in the undergrowth.

Nat listens harder.

More soft feet, a whole group, walking towards the clearing in unison. Not careful deer, but people.

Nat takes a deep, nervous breath in as her nerves start to frantically pinch at her leaping heart, "It's the Wayna," she whispers in the daunting silence.

From the corner of her strained eyes, she sees the woman give her a side glance. She must be feeling it too, the sense of magic that is approaching their camp. Or maybe she can sense Nat's heart-wrenching fear.

Her desperate urge to run away becomes stronger.

The white dragon takes in a slower breath, as though the air has suddenly become cleaner. Nat stares at the delicate little thing and instantly cannot bring herself to leave. It seems to conjure the splitting image of a young, deep-sleeping Fortison.

A slow hum rises from the tree line, the noise of the birds increasing, several woodland creatures arriving into the field, no longer frightened of the two dragons nestled in the middle. Big bush-tail rabbits bound through the grass, multiplying by the second as their noses twitch to the direction of the lone tune. Common sparrows nestle in the low lying tree branches, chirping out of rhythm to the strange hum, their beaks pointing towards the bright sky as their small, colourful wings wave around. A giant dusty-brown stag appears to the far left, grand antlers peeking out from the safety of the trees, it's large, innocent black eyes scanning the clearing.

"Oh, my..." The woman's whisper gets lost beyond the ear-splitting ruckus.

Nat's heart burns as she takes in a sharp, deep breath. Her burning eyes fall deeper into the darkness of the woods, making out the faint silhouette of the approaching Wayna people. Their modest white gowns flow, mild green and blue ribbons adorning the loose sleeves, loose, flax-woven belts around their waists.

They stop in unison once inside the open field.

In seconds, a rare woman steps forward from the group, her white dress waving out behind her. It lightly sweeps the forest ground as though floating through the air. Green ribbon frames the hems, shimmering off the sunlight.

Her grey eyes find Nat, piercing straight through her, surfacing hundreds of old memories. Memories that Nat has suppressed for years. All the ones she sacrificed to create a new life in Hills. Yet in seconds they all come back.

"You join us again in presence, Natalie." her silky voice floats across the clearing.

It chills every bone in Nat's body, leaving a hazy, warm sensation behind. She still swears it's a form of mystic healing for the most anxious of hearts.

At sudden peace, Nat slowly removes her hand away from the daggers at her side.

What is she doing? This woman is no threat to her, not the woman who had raised her.

Nat can only manage to breathe out a response, "Ayflower."

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The woman's soft lips grace into a kind smile, eyes beaming. Several of the countless animals stop moving in order to watch the display.

Ayflower glides forward with her gaze focused on Nat, back straight with no visible flaw in the human eye. Behind her, the other Wayna healers advance forward, making their way deeper into the clearing, following the woman.

"My, you have grown into a beautiful young woman." Ayflower praises while reaching out for Nat's dirty hands, "How many years have flown by?"

She spots the delicate pale fingers of the woman. Her nightmare comes flooding back. This isn't right.

Nat withdraws herself before Ayflower can get near to touch her. Through her harsh eyes, she witnesses the woman's face fall in defeat.

The animals around fall into a low whisper, nervous wide eyes watching the two women's uncomfortable interaction.

Nat pulls her vision away from the lady who raised her. Instead, she focuses on the white dragon struggling to breathe, rasping at the last remaining beats of its life.

Now was not the time for a 'family' reunion.

"It's a baby," Nat speaks up through the heavy silence.

"What has happened to her,"

Nat doesn't have the heart to say. How can she? Even whispers of war and battle have the Wayna scurrying into their hidden fortress, secluding themselves deeper from the real world.

They already think of outsiders as a sin. She couldn't tell them the white dragon was injured by her in the act of murderous war.

"Wyrms," Nat explains, "from the mountain ranges."

"The beasts who are meant to be extinct," Ayflower speaks in hushed shock, her misty eyes wide with the false news, "the outside world is unforgiving even to the weakest, youngest of souls."

"Yes," Nat whispers.

"We shall do our best to heal her."

Nat watches as the Wayna healers all turn their attention to the white dragon, one by one, making their way to the creature. Like a ring of mushrooms, they surround it's shaking form, hands extended with all their eyes closed.

Now Nat finds the opportunity to take her mind away from everything. The white dragon is safe under the powers of the Wayna.

Instead, she is drawn to the stench of fear.

"Stop looking so terrified," Nat orders the Asdorian warrior, who jumps away from wringing her pale fingers together.

The woman subtly nods, her throat bobbing with pent-up anxiety. In the depths of her blue eyes, Nat could see the undeniable innocence that she has always placed on the Asdorian warrior.

Not a warrior, Nat corrects herself, noting how the woman barely has the form to fight.

Just one terrified young Asdorian woman and her white baby dragon.