to
where the dragon’s gaze indicated. Hunters were obligated to wipe-out nests.
The clutch was
bare, exposed to the night – and him. The man might have broken
every shell, but what is a dragon hunter without dragons?
He heaped the
compost mound. The splendid, blue-tipped copper breed would live
on. Yet, he took one egg away.
The princess
would fancy a new pet.
Shoreline
Dawn filtered
gold and orange through blackening clouds. Sea foam whisked upward,
disturbed by the coming gale.
A large ebony dragon stepped upon the
beach. Gaar stretched his coal-colored wings and raised his nostrils to breathe in the future
rain’s telling fragrance.
Good, good, the shore dragon thought.
Gaar welcomed this situation. The weather
was perfect for hunting. Humans ,
particularly. He grinned inwardly, knowing his scales matched the
dark clouds, and no sunshine meant his ominous form wouldn’t cast a
shadow.
He moved toward
the waves, his claws leaving ten-inch imprints in the sand. At the
shoreline, he leapt into the wind and flew in search of food.
Gaar had
formerly been satisfied by the giant fish and marine mammals that
teem the open water. The black dragon gained a taste for seafarers
after whalers slaughtered his mate. Months ago, her body washed
ashore bearing a harpoon with the stink of man.
He saw that, to
cross vast water, humans rode strange creatures that tasted like
trees and appeared to have many large wings. Gaar wondered why
these strange creatures never flew.
The creatures
Gaar sot were, in truth, lifeless ships. Whaling ships were his
main target, distinguishable by harpoons. He saw harpoons as tines,
such as he had along his back. A key difference was harpoons could
be darted out, then drawn in.
This day, Gaar
would use all his skills.
After some
time, the male spotted a familiar outline on the ocean’s surface.
He subtly shifted, turning in the ship’s direction. Gaar swooped
in, avoiding narrow beams of sunlight.
Despite his
efforts, the humans began to shout. The creature they rode changed
course.
Infuriated by
detection in the face of stealth, the dragon roared. The water
beast roared back.
Gaar smugly
rolled out of the line of fire. He recognized the sound of canons
only as a creature defending its feeble passengers. Experience told
him that it had no defense to rear attacks. Assuming it to be a
blind spot, he dipped toward the ship’s stern.
Gaar knew how to stop this floating beast
of burden. He maneuvered to
attack its thin, pale wings. Shredding the wings would slow the
creature for sequenced assaults and would ensure that it didn’t try
to fly off in desperation.
Men scurried up
and down deck as he tore through the sails.
With the first
task complete, Gaar singled out a sailor standing on the creature’s
highest point.
The dragon’s
claws agilely snatched the screaming man. Gaar soared up into the
sky. Then, he slammed his prey down into the surf, stunning the man
and breaking his limbs.
He repeated
these moves to gather a second meal. By this time, the atmosphere
was nearly as dark as the dragon’s body. A drizzle encompassed the
scene, a precursor to the tempest.
His two catches
made a passable snack, but dragons always aim for the optimal
outcome. More rations would be best, Gaar thought, and he looped
back behind the ship.
This goal was a
mistake. He had not seen the stern cannon that the sailors were
preparing. This time, when approached, it roared.
Gaar almost
froze in place when he felt the orb punching through his wing. The
dragon tumbled from the air with a howl and crashed beneath the
waves.
The crew
hurriedly manned the harpoon and tried to aim. He was safe. No
sailor could see the black beast in the vast, inky water.
Shore dragons
are not swimmers, but Gaar knew he had to make it back to his cave.
His great head lifted above the surf as he angrily searched out his
rations.
Driven by pain
and parental obligations, he skewered his talons into
where the dragon’s gaze indicated. Hunters were obligated to wipe-out nests.
The clutch was
bare, exposed to the night – and him. The man might have broken
every shell, but what is a dragon hunter without dragons?
He heaped the
compost mound. The splendid, blue-tipped copper breed would live
on. Yet, he took one egg away.
The princess
would fancy a new pet.
Shoreline
Dawn filtered
gold and orange through blackening clouds. Sea foam whisked upward,
disturbed by the coming gale.
A large ebony dragon stepped upon the
beach. Gaar stretched his coal-colored wings and raised his nostrils to breathe in the future
rain’s telling fragrance.
Good, good, the shore dragon thought.
Gaar welcomed this situation. The weather
was perfect for hunting. Humans ,
particularly. He grinned inwardly, knowing his scales matched the
dark clouds, and no sunshine meant his ominous form wouldn’t cast a
shadow.
He moved toward
the waves, his claws leaving ten-inch imprints in the sand. At the
shoreline, he leapt into the wind and flew in search of food.
Gaar had
formerly been satisfied by the giant fish and marine mammals that
teem the open water. The black dragon gained a taste for seafarers
after whalers slaughtered his mate. Months ago, her body washed
ashore bearing a harpoon with the stink of man.
He saw that, to
cross vast water, humans rode strange creatures that tasted like
trees and appeared to have many large wings. Gaar wondered why
these strange creatures never flew.
The creatures
Gaar sot were, in truth, lifeless ships. Whaling ships were his
main target, distinguishable by harpoons. He saw harpoons as tines,
such as he had along his back. A key difference was harpoons could
be darted out, then drawn in.
This day, Gaar
would use all his skills.
After some
time, the male spotted a familiar outline on the ocean’s surface.
He subtly shifted, turning in the ship’s direction. Gaar swooped
in, avoiding narrow beams of sunlight.
Despite his
efforts, the humans began to shout. The creature they rode changed
course.
Infuriated by
detection in the face of stealth, the dragon roared. The water
beast roared back.
Gaar smugly
rolled out of the line of fire. He recognized the sound of canons
only as a creature defending its feeble passengers. Experience told
him that it had no defense to rear attacks. Assuming it to be a
blind spot, he dipped toward the ship’s stern.
Gaar knew how to stop this floating beast
of burden. He maneuvered to
attack its thin, pale wings. Shredding the wings would slow the
creature for sequenced assaults and would ensure that it didn’t try
to fly off in desperation.
Men scurried up
and down deck as he tore through the sails.
With the first
task complete, Gaar singled out a sailor standing on the creature’s
highest point.
The dragon’s
claws agilely snatched the screaming man. Gaar soared up into the
sky. Then, he slammed his prey down into the surf, stunning the man
and breaking his limbs.
He repeated
these moves to gather a second meal. By this time, the atmosphere
was nearly as dark as the dragon’s body. A drizzle encompassed the
scene, a precursor to the tempest.
His two catches
made a passable snack, but dragons always aim for the optimal
outcome. More rations would be best, Gaar thought, and he looped
back behind the ship.
This goal was a
mistake. He had not seen the stern cannon that the sailors were
preparing. This time, when approached, it roared.
Gaar almost
froze in place when he felt the orb punching through his wing. The
dragon tumbled from the air with a howl and crashed beneath the
waves.
The crew
hurriedly manned the harpoon and tried to aim. He was safe. No
sailor could see the black beast in the vast, inky water.
Shore dragons
are not swimmers, but Gaar knew he had to make it back to his cave.
His great head lifted above the surf as he angrily searched out his
rations.
Driven by pain
and parental obligations, he skewered his talons into
Similar Books
