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Attack the weak point

Chapter 2

Well, here goes nothing. Whenever I imagined taking up the mantle of 'protector of all dragons' I had always sort of assumed it meant I'd get to stay home and guard things. Cast healing spells on sick people I peruse through hospitals, perform minor tricks to cheer up the downtrodden. If I knew how to summon sweets and simple meals I could even brighten the smiles of anyone I came across. No one dislikes getting a crunchy bite of candy.

Cold ...

Turns out absolutely none of what I imagine actually started happening. The disrespect that comes with apparent clumsiness, the pity I get from everyone whenever I slip on a piece of old fruit and belly flop into a hot sidewalk, the strange glances as a bird drops out of the sky and smacks directly onto my guts. My father always had this reputation for bad luck or embarrassingly terrible agility. What you'd expect from a secluded spellcaster tucked away in a library who only rarely goes out to see the world. A month after this transfer of power, he was getting peace, and that same reputation was starting to fall on me.

Crunch of snow between my claws, cold and colder.

Like father like son, people were starting to say.

For some I tried to explain, as even random strangers would whack me with the ends of their tail and then be politely upset about it. After the tenth time is as many days, how do you tell them it wasn't actually their fault? That they had no reason to feel guilty, and were merely a pawn in some grand deity's curse. How many believed it? When I tried to argue that it was how our guardian protects all of dragon kind, and that my suffering was as necessary as it was painful. Some demanded I prove it by casting spells for them. Others simply shrugged it off as the ravings of a delusional person.

Flakes of ice scattered down my scales, a single leather bag slung over my shoulders.

But trying to prove I actually was the guardian, hoping to show off awesome magical powers to all of those who cast doubt into their wary eyes, got me nowhere at all. Dad could have mentioned that a bit sooner to be honest, saved me some level of embarrassment.

The transfer doesn't actually give power or control. It merely unlocked the ability to absorb magical energies, which I've been doing for the past month. Magic from the air, whimsical and fast. Magic from the earth, steady and unrelenting. Magic from the people around me, the bubbly energy of a smile or the oppressive heaviness of their sadness. I could feel it all, my senses expanded to the world of the ethereal. I could taste from life as if the world had become a perfume shop and every single thing, every emotion, had its own unique aroma. Some sources of magic seemed to feel better than others, but that warmth and energy from just being filled with it never really seemed to go away.

Catch? Yeah there just had to be a catch. Problem is I can't actually release that energy yet, imbuing that power was beyond the scope of my father's spell. The delicious irony of course is that he can still cast, he can still release power, but he has no means to absorb any. Once he's expended whatever he happened to have left, assuming he even kept a shred of magic and didn't spend all of it on the transfer to me, he won't ever get anything more. Meanwhile I am like a battery with no maximum charge, and no way to plug into something useful. The power just builds and builds and builds, getting stronger with each passing day.

Tree branches scraped against my scales. My thick head pushing through bits of ice and thin leaves, the winter forest before me doing little to hinder my walk.

There was supposed to be a road here, a path leading into the next town, but I couldn't really see it through the snow. And being a dragon, it wasn't like I needed a road either, if anything was in my way I could climb over it or crunch through it, trees weren't much of an obstacle for one of my strength.

Heh, at least there's that. Once I do figure out how to cast spells no one will ever be able to call me a wimpy mage with no muscle.

That was the point of my traveling now, you know. Because even though I can't really cast anything now, that's only because I haven't completed my transformation. Uplifting? Enhancing? My father said it was the awakening, but that makes it sound like I've been sleepy until now and simply need to open my eyes. I'm not sure if I like that word, but there was still something all guardians have to pull off before they gain complete access to their powers.

Travel to one of the shrines of the gods, kneel before the great dragon shrine and beseech the gods who watch over all dragons for their support. Ask of them to unleash my power, strip away the barrier between physical and ethereal so that I can tap from one to influence the other.

Crunch, crunch, snap, crunchcrunch.

Having to leave out in the cold and snowy winter months wasn't the best of ideas, but neither were the other options. I did relent to getting a month of practice with my all new curse after all, so that at least I wasn't so surprised whenever things randomly conspired to sucker punch me every twenty minutes. But if I were to try and wait for the snow to melt I'd be powerless for months.

I want to help people, I want to get started on my actual duties, not just quietly suffer in the corner as a glorified punching bag. What was the point of having magic if you never get to use it? Six months was too long. And the cold wasn't dangerous to a dragon in any way, just aggravating. It annoyed my scales, it itches between the hard cracks, misty white fog made everything harder to see.

But it was still beautiful, and made what would otherwise have been a dull walk to the frigid north an exercise in wondering through a winter wonderland.

My bag was only there for convenience, holding a bit of spending cash for whenever I get into town. Pay for a night's sleep, pay for fresh food, or just to collect a cheap trinket so I have something to show on my way home. It held all of my rations, dried preserved food that basically never goes bad and has everything I need to stay healthy, but the meals are utterly devoid of flavor. Best when mixed with something else to help round out a filling meal. And of course, the orb.

That very same orb my father used, with its shifting colors and the image of a night sky through rainbow mists as if one were looking through a rounded window into another world. That glass orb has a taste, a magical flavor that I started to pick up after a few days of holding it. Vibrant and energetic, like sitting next to a garden filled with nothing but the sweetest of flowers.

My quest was a simple one.

Reach the tallest point of this mountain, only a few days past the sleepy town of Mortsport, and place my orb into the very center of our grand shine to the dragons.

From there, my father explained, it would draw the attention of the gods to me and I could make my request. To finally begin my training as a healer and protector, the guardian my people deserve.

WHAP!

Gods damned tree ...

The tree did that on purpose, I could almost feel it! Bad tree. Urrrhgmg okay that stings a little bit more than I thought it would. Maybe the tree didn't actually mean to hit me, but it certainly didn't seem to taste sorry after the fact either.

Watch where I'm walking. Absently stepping onto the end of a branch with my foreclaws, and then letting go as I walked forward. If I were an upright creature this could have made a bit more sense, but the fact I was on four claws with my belly facing downward, having a tree branch smack you in the belly button by whipping upward just looked unnatural.

But at least it wasn't some localized earthquake in which the whole world shakes, and a random block of stone juts up from beneath the ground right into my solarplex. Hasn't happened yet, but I know it will! After some of the strangeness I've seen this past month I am not going to doubt the machinations of fate for even a moment.

"Hrggnh ..." the pain was low, and I could have pressed on while just letting it fade, but always best to stretch it out after something like this. I cast a wary glance through the cloying, icy mist and so many winter trees before stepping off to one side. Sliding satchel off and laying it to rest against a rock, I didn't know what was going to hit me next but I was certain I'd have time to ease my tense belly before the next beating.

I made sure to cast a wary glance toward the upper tree branches just in case one of them looked like they were about to fall. If one did it would unerringly land directly on my tummy, I just know it would ... hrm, best to step away from the trees first.

Well, hobble away. Hobble away on three legs with one claw rubbing over my belly button, breathing in deeply through the nose and out through the mouth. My warm breath causing a layer of fog to whip up in front of my eyes as if I were unleashing a blast of steam from my jaws.

A flop.

A roll!

My shoulders hitting the ground first in an ungainly drop only for the rest of me to follow suit in a cascade of awkward flails. Belly facing up to the skies and my four legs pulled back like a cat trying to play, I started to implement the method my father showed me for easing the pain. Hind legs braced into the crunchy snow, digging into frozen dirt beneath. My upper arms swing back behind my head, tearing into the stone for another grip.

Everything flexes. Every muscle, every limb, my whole body at once, as I make sure to lean my head and rump downward so my belly can lift as high as possible. Spine leaving the ground, thick rocky scales all covered in snow, the white clumps falling off once I'd pulled away.

Crabwalking basically, but it was with the intent to get my tummy above my head and arch backward as strongly as I could manage. Stretching the skin, making my soft and flabby underbelly look taut and firm for the first time in ages.

And ohgoshyessoverymuchyes did this work!

I barely had to stretch at all before the pain was just gone, as if it had never been there. I was too soft and thick to leave any sort of bruise, and the stretching my spine was always a much needed comfort. To be perfectly honest I would have enjoyed trying this all the time if it didn't leave me so open to surprises. You can just imagine how easily something could fall right on my belly button the moment I stretch out like this.

My jaws lean back to stretch the neck, my arms and shoulders grew stiff from the strain of carrying so much weight, and before long I flop back onto my side and sprawl up onto four legs. Shaking like a horse in the dirt, snow flying in all directions.

"Aaawh" I gasped out from the sheer, lovely relief this clever little maneuver brings, breath fogging the air in front of my face. I would have to get up at some point, but for now I could jus- ...

Footprints.

Orange. Black. The outline of a green tunic.

Fox?

Blinking my eyes clear I saw a fox. On two legs, maybe three or four feet tall, thin and lanky with thick poofy fur that clearly didn't have time to swap out for a winter coat but was trying it's best to be thick regardless. Ears folded back, the fox's body leaning forward with arms outstretched.

Arms outstretched and just touching against the loop of my satchel.

I blink again, and notice the fox wasn't moving, wasn't breathing, deathly still as if I were some sleepy monster who might forget to notice him if he just stays still. Mist steams from my nostrils and floods the air in a billowy white puff, tiny flecks of snow drift down lazily in only the lightest of snowfalls.

"Hello?" I mutter after what felt like the longest time ...

And of that fox was gone in a flash. Darting through the leaves and branches in a blur of green and orange, his body leaving a faint outline through the icy mists.

"Hrmph, rude. Could have at least said- ... HEY!? Where did my bag go!?"

I should have noticed that sooner.

Aarhg, I'm supposed to be an all-powerful magical guardian, why didn't I notice he stole my bag sooner! He had his hands right on it! I surge forward, rolling onto four legs and taking off at a run.

SMASH! Turning radius too wide, trees in the way. I didn't care, the trees moved without my having to push too hard. Well, the other tree moved pretty hard, so hard it flipped over my shoulders and went tumbling amongst the higher branches. Another crash, the sound of crunching splinters and snow falling in matted heaps, all before I managed to orient onto the same path this fox was fallowing.

There was a reason people don't mess with dragons after all.

Chase, claw, run, my chest heaved as I suck in cold and wet air. Arms extended in lunging grabs, my hind legs not so much walking quickly as they were throwing me forward in bounding thrusts. Move. Flex, my head bobbing up and down as a hardy spine takes every impact, snow splashing around me like puddles of white froth and the earth trembling with every step.

Faster.

Faster! I could see the fox's tail, I could taste the fear trailing behind him. His panic was this strangely warm, strikingly intense flavor that made the fox's aura seem all the more potent. Male, definitely, it was hard to tell from appearance alone but his aura was almost certainly a male one.

CRASH! Another tree that I merely clipped with my shoulder as I rushed past, the thick log exploding into a shower of splinters near the base and then creaking loudly as it fell in my wake. I wasn't so much leaving footprints as I was clearing a path.

Don't slow down, I need that orb! Whatever you do no slowing down, I can lose anything else in that pack but the orb is vital!

This fox was fast and agile, but I was a terminator who just didn't slow down. The fox desperately weaved and swerved, climbing over rocks and ducking under fallen logs. I smashed right through both with hardly a flinch, boulders shoved aside in a careless backhand swipe, logs torn strait through as if they were paper. I wasn't losing any speed and continued in an unerringly strait line, the fox kept slowing down with all of these fancy, zipping tricks in some effort to lose my trail.

"Stop!" I shout through gasping breaths, but neither of us slowed down. The snow was nothing to me, for one of my bulk, my size, my strength. For a fox roughly a fourth of my height and thinner than my front arms, this snow was difficult terrain, requiring that he pull his legs up and over or try to draw his knees through thicker snow banks.

Closer.

Closer. I was certain he could feel the warmth of my breath on his tail, and I could taste his panic, I could feel it in his mind as he debated dropping the pack altogether so it would stop weighing him down. In speed alone, if nothing else were a factor right now, the little guy could have easily outrun me. Especially with a head-start.

Instead of giving me the stuff he tries once more to swerve to the far right, ducking low and changing direction almost instantly. He probably thought I couldn't turn as quickly as he could, and the funny thing is he'd have been right.

Lucky for me he's in arm's length. Swipe! Snatch.

Almost the moment he turned was when I could feel my arms close around his chest, feel the warmth of fur and the texture of cloth. Legs bracing into the ground I tear through dirt and stone in a skitting stop, sliding across snow and ice only to slam belly-fifgmgpghhgAAaahhhh!

WHY!?

Sliding over snow, and there was just one rock, only just tall enough, that it's very tip slams into the side of my belly pudge and swipes all the way across. It felt like having a hard punch side-wind you and then carry on through, something that just barely connects to the surface but still manages to leave a burning sting in this strait line from end to end.

"Gggnngh!" I grunt in pain, dropping the fox into snow and instinctively pulling my arm back to hold the battered welt that almost surely would have started to form by now. The fox flomphs, rolls onto his back in a desperate flail, and before he could stand back up my free hand was holding him by the shoulder.

The pain wasn't the worst I'd felt, and after so many weeks I figured I could just tough this one out. All I care about is the orb. But I definitely wasn't looking like the most intimidating figure right now, eyes watered and cheeks puffy, a light groan the whole way while my arm braces over the belly button. I still managed to look that fox in the eye wheeze out a few strained words.

"G-give me back my stuff, being a thief is wrong!"

From the look on that fox's face I could immediately tell he wasn't impressed, nor all that intimidated.

"Lay off ya mook, I found this fair an square!" He squirmed against my hands, shoving into the thumb and trying to wriggle free. It was actually really hard to hold onto him because I knew if I pressed just a little bit further I might break something, and I had to be careful with my claws to avoid that risk of slicing him up. I didn't want to hurt the little guy, and he wasn't making this easy.

The stinging pain in my belly didn't help either, but I knew it would fade. Just try to keep a steady breath until then.

"You did not just find that, you stole it! I watched you take it, and you saw me looking at you!"

"I don know what yer talking about stink-breath but if ya don't let me go right now I'm gonna give ya the ass poundin of yer life!"

He still tasted like he was terrified, but that fear seemed to be converting into anger. His aura shifting and shimmering, like watching a marshmallow start to brown as it's held over a fire. Emotions tempered with time ...

I pulled my free hand away from my stomach and latched a claw around the strap of my bag, hoping to pull it free of the fox's shoulders while my other arm held him down. To be perfectly fair I was breathing right into his face, and labored breathing at that, so his insult wasn't entirely unjustified.

"Look, I just need the or-Mbpbh!"

I should have seen it coming.

PAIN!

I should have noticed that spike in his emotions, a sudden flare of desperation, but it came so quickly and I felt a horrible stabbing pain in my belly before I could even react.

Arms pull back, my fingers clench, I'm doubled over and on my knees by the time my vision clears. Dropped the fox, dropped the satchel, sprawled and curled into a ball amongst the shimmering snow. Paaaiin! Oh gods I could still feel a fox shaped footprint right bellow my ribs as if he's somehow dented the fat, and the pain from that scrape with a rock hasn't even cleared up yet.

"Gaaassp!" I breathed and writhed, my knees pulling up to rub the belly and my tail curling around. I expected the fox to run off while he had the chance, but he was just standing there with a strange look in his eyes.

"Oh, ya didn't believe me, did ya?" the fox shakily taunts, as if hardly believing his own words himself. With a distinctly false bravado he walks right around my face, jaws agape and tongue lulling out, and positions himself directly over my midsection.

PAAAAIIIiiiiin!

Tiny little needle-paws strike through, quick and fierce in a harsh jab. It shouldn't have hurt this much, but he got right in the kidneys just bellow my ribs, and dragon bellies were soft and pillowy. His fist shoves down all the way up to his elbow in this deep cutting strike before the taut flesh bounces his arm back out.

And it huuuuuurrt!

His knee comes up to smash against me, but just glances off my forearm, durable rocky hide deflecting the blow. Another strike from his fist that taps against my tail with a tiny fwip sound. His foot sneaks under my arm and slams directly into my belly button with a gut wrenching pain, my neck curling forward and lips forced into an 'oh' shape from just how badly that one winded me. And he kept going!

Another punch, another kick, alternating arms back and forth, so many tap against my elbows to no effect whatsoever which just seemed to create so much contrast from the explosive pain from every blow that snuck through. Hard to breath, snow kicked up around my scales, a lashing tail that I try so desperately to keep curled up. But the more I curled the more the pain stayed, if I want muscles to relax I need to stretch out!

Bap, slapbap, PAIN! Bapbapbap PAIN! He just wasn't relenting until I tucked myself in completely and made sure legs, arms, and tail covered every single potion of my gut. Whimpering softly, eyes closed and trying not to cry, he spent what felt like minutes just giving weak little cracking punches in some effort to find an opening.

When I stopped moving, stopped making any sound beyond a whimper, he felt satisfied and walked away. Not leaving of course, just over to my satchel. Feeling proud of himself, feeling invincible, I could taste the unearned arrogance in his aura as he felt like not even dragons could stand up to him.

He knelt down right in front of me to root through the bag, pulling out bits of dried rations, plucking the fruit up into greedy little black furred paws.

The fox made sure to look me right in the eye, before plopping my food into his mouth and savoring the taste. "Mhhhmmm. Delicious." He'd taunt, pulling out more and stuffing it into his own bag.

My money. My food. Carefully drawn free as he sorts through stolen possessions. And yet as he busied himself with petty thievery, I had time to relax, time to breathe.

I had time to stretch.

Eyes closed and head laid back, I made sure to move as quietly as a bulking behemoth could, unfurling my arms and tail to pull them back over my shoulders. Breathe, just relax and breathe. Bruised and yet blubbery skin tight and bunched up from the clenching pain, a dull throb that pulses through my whole midsection and down my spine with every beat of the heart. Relax and breath.

I could hear rustling of the fox as he nibbles and swallows, hear the clink as my coins all rather unwillingly join forces with his. Can't think about that now, just stretch.

My back arches, hind legs and forepaws brace into the ground, once more thrusting my belly to the sky and pulling the skin taut. Almost immediately the pain ebbed away like the aid itself was dissolving every foul sensation. Stretched and wide, fully exposed to the world. Already I felt like a new dragon as if I'd never been punched at all.

This always worked, and I was increasingly thankful to my father for showing me how best to do it.

"The ell is this?" the fox grumbled, and my eyes opened immediately to a shimmering display of blue and orange lights dancing across the pure white of a snowy clearing.

"T-that's mine!" I shout a tad more frantically than I'd hoped, prompting the fox to look at my position and scramble back with my orb clutched to his chest.

"Wh- Stay down already!"

Fwoosh ...

I should have been impressed by his display.

If I were watching a circus performer or a bard on the streets, it would have been amazing.

The way he tucked into a roll while throwing himself midair, the perfect arch of his movement with his legs extending at just the right moment. The sheer height this agile fox could manage and the deft performance when he came crashing back down. A front flip into a spinning axe kick that all comes together into this flawlessly executed blow.

The fact my belly button was the target of this dazzlingly well preformed strike did much to a damper on my appreciation for the skill that went into it.

Pain. That familiar explosion of MAKE THIS STOP screaming into my mind, followed immediately by the sight of my knees on either side of my face.

I didn't realize it until a moment later, but my body has just done a complete reversal of my previous position, the belly curled up with my head and legs raised to the air, rocking back and forth on my spine like a half circle. The fox's foot seemed to be trapped within the blubbery folds of my gut fat, if only for as long as it took him to land and drag his feet out.

Weakly, my claws swipe in his general direction, trying to grab the orb.

STRIKE! Pain, a fist hitting my ribs from the side and swishing all the way in, up to the fox's shoulder. Another strike, his right foot swimming wide and slamming into the space just above my hips, sinking in up to his knees. The rebounding bounce as motion transferred through sends his arm flying back out.

"S-stalpgh!" I gasp in desperation, kicking into the air, lashing my claws at anything just to grab hold. He dodges easily, ducking beneath my swipes and giving a quick, two-part jab into the side of my belly button, sending the whole gut swaying the other direction like it was a bag full of water.

I couldn't take it, the pain so soon after feeling it ebb, I just had to stretch out again! Planting my arms and legs in place, leaning my head back so quickly I slam the back of my skull into the dirt. Stretch. Taut. Feel the sharp jabs wash away as if the bruises had never happened to begin with.

Open, defenseless, all but begging for another attack to the gut. Which the fox quite eagerly delivered, holding the orb up high in both hands and then throwing it down right into my belly button.

Just as before I curled forward, bringing my knees to my chest and my chin toward my rubs, arms grasping toward the wrinkled folds of my gut if only to hold and nurse the offending injury. It hurt. Oh my god why does this hurt so much? That orb weighed more than a bowling ball and it just went right down into me. The ball sunk down almost two feet into my guts! Hunched forward like this you couldn't see the orb at all, and the fox's arms were outright trapped between two smothering layers of skin.

I wanted to sprawl out again, I so desperately wanted the pain to disappear and for this fox to just leave, but if I open myself up he's just going to hit me again. And again. No! Stay curled. Taste the fox's own desperation as he pulls his hands free, stumbling backward into the snow.

Arrrhgngh! A heavy lead weight in the pit of my stomach and, for my own good, I was just holding it there. Curled up onto a ball, falling over to my side with my back toward the fox. I curled up tighter, even despite the fact it increased my own pain, when I heard his footsteps rounding the corner. Looking for my belly, throwing a few more jabs as if to kick me while I'm down.

Bap. Bap. PAIN! Bapslaptink.

He didn't get through often, but his determination to make sure I won't get back up was clear and evident by his continued efforts.

"Hrmph, ya got that dragon? Ain't no one smart who messes with Jerry. Remember that."

At this point I didn't even care that I could see through his false bravado, I just wanted him to leave, wanted the pain to end so I could sprawl out again. A soft whimper escapes my jaws when I heard him going back to rifling through my things.

Breathe, just accept the pain and breath. Ignore the icy chill as tears freeze to my scales and breathe.

I heard the jingling of coins. I heard the fox's indignant huff. And I heard, slowly, as he stalks away into the snowy mists.

And all I could do, bracing the orb into my belly and cursing the day I was 'gifted' this magical responsibility, was breathe.