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• Split Of Fate -

part II

The Dragon's Funeral

by

Qahnareen

*

Frightened, she had left her home and her partner. She has been flying for three days, passing burning villages here and there. The wind hissed above her, the last sounds of fighting resounded beneath her. No time to rest, just one hunt, a moment's break, drink. She flew with her nose pointing towards the sunrises. Rocky hills, plateaus, and occupied human cities gave way to great forests and swamps. The wilderness was crisscrossed by muddy roads. Small villages grew up in the higher ground, surrounded by wetlands. Here, where civilization was far behind. Here, where the war has not yet taken independence, but has already taken away the sense of peace.

Cooler gusts of wind stroked her wings and black-striped frills. She saw carts and horses on muddy tracks. One of the carts got stuck in the mud, but she had no time to help them. She saw people grouping in farms. Instead of working in the fields and guarding the animals, they've formed something that resembled ridiculously small formations of warriors. She shook her head, knowing it was all in vain. If she wanted to, she would have landed and told them to give up trying to fight. But she didn't have time to talk with the villagers, especially since they were not used to the presence of a dragon. She knew that they were probably afraid of her, despite the fact that she was flying quite high, carried by air currents, and the eastern wind blew into her wings and created a great lift, allowing her to glide for a long time and rest during the flight. Every now and then she flapped her wings harder to pick up speed. Her back and shoulders felt incredible pain. She could feel every muscle, she was not used to such crazy races.

Her head was filled with sentimental memories from the time she lived with her parents. Sometimes she had been playing with her younger brother, actually, together with her mother, she had been teaching him to fly. She had been thinking her mother was a flight master, the fastest, most agile, but her brother was still very young. One day he had overtaken their mother and was flying faster and faster every day. She hadn't even thought a dragon could fly that fast. Usually he was taking off with one strong wings blow and was gaining speed immediately. It was hard for their mother to catch up with him... He was definitely more agile than her, with the slim build of their mother. On one paw side, she was proud of herself because she had taught him to fly. On the other paw side, she knew it wasn't true, because he would have learned it himself. With his physique, he naturally had to be better, so she was looking for a reason to console herself with that thought. In fact, when he was little she gave him a reason to compete with their races in flight. It made him want to be faster and better, so he was exercising and flying a lot while she preferred the softness of the grass in the company of books.

The books are stupid. He had always repeated and shouted for her to fly with him again.

Later that youthful rivalry was disappearing while the difference had grown and he had seen he could easily overcome her. She had seen him flying and enjoying the flight, he hadn't been racing with her. She even had been trying to overtake him and she had succeeded, which was a huge success, but he hadn't wanted to race, just was enjoying the flight with the other dragon next to him...

For a year and a half she had not seen him nor their parents. She wished she had come to visit them in quieter times.

The whistling shook her out of her thoughts about the distant past. She woke up, remembering where she was and what she was doing, and almost fell asleep in thoughts. She looked down to see the people and realized that she was flying much lower than should have been. These were warning shots. Before she forced the tired wings into swift strikes, more arrows stabbed her body.

---

*

The dragoness landed in the cave entrance, smearing a few traces of blood on the stone floor. Barely gasping for breath, she screamed in dragon language, "Briinhmarrr!"

Viingsekesty woke up screaming, reached out her paw, grabbing Golvokun quickly and digging her claws into his arm, he screamed too. They looked at the cave entrance. The clawsteps sound of the limping dragon echoed across the stone walls. - "Sister? What happened?" Viingsekesty got up, her tail hit the black dragon and she ran quickly to her sister.

• "He's dead." They huddled together, pressing the head to the head so that their ears rubbed against each other. Golvokun came over, his eyes closed, rubbing the side of her head with his nose. "He is dead, Golvokun, your last brother is gone." He rested wing on her back and his claws digging into the stone. "He got an arrow in the ribs, nothing serious, but his heart could not stand..."

• "An arrow?" Viingsekesty plunged into the memories of their escape from the archers.

• "We were flying slowly west of our house, there were strangers there. Something bad is happening... It was a minor wound. When we returned home, he was already weakening. I drew the arrow, licked his wound. He put the paw to his chest. I turned to look for something to do a dressing. He then began to breathe heavily and... smiled at me... and just... away."

• "We're flying immediately. Are you too tired?"

• "Where's Golgaaryol?" Viingsevgir looked deeper into the cave with her wet eyes, surprised their son hadn't woken up, but she saw that his pile of furs was empty.

• "He again... He flew north. There is a new village of humans. He must have gone there, the place we used to call Vahrolm..."

• "I remember... apple trees, and a big oak. Did the two-leggeds destroy it too?" Under her sister's wing, she tried to find calm breath.

• "No, they built the village around this place."

• "You've never said you were in the village." Viingsekesty looked sharply into the pale blue eyes of the ebony dragon.

• "Because I've never been in the village... More than once I had been soaring in the night sky, possibly extinguishing only a few stars, but I'm sure they've never seen me. You know I love this place."

She saw his confusion. - "You're weird... I don't understand why you don't want to show yourself to them."

• "I am... I mean..." He shook his head. "Well, at least I know where our son is. He couldn't have gone elsewhere and I'm sure of it after what he had said. This is not the time for it..." He turned his head to Viingsevgir. "Yes... we were flying west and saw bad things, it looks like another war is brewing. We were supposed to go get him tomorrow. I'm worried about Viingsebii, she is so far away."

• "I think they have a safe place... Hmm."

• "What..."

• "She would know first what's going on, don't you think maybe she's flying to us? It's a few days of flight."

• "I hope she doesn't risk moving through the war zones."

She finally managed to stifle a sob. - "They are still far away, we still have time to prepare... Vahrolm..."

• "There is no safer place with humans than Vahrolm. I knew them well, for many generations they had grown up with the dragon in the area." He sighed wistfully. "We talked all evening. We decided to fly there and simply scare off the invaders. I can already see their surprise when they see the three dragons."

• "The three dragons... Maybe I... May I join you? I have nothing to lose." Viingsevgir looked with her wet gaze into Golvokun's pale eyes.

• "Yes, but get yourself together first." The black dragon nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. "Let's take care of the funeral. We'll go home and pick up the things we need. How much time do you think we have?"

• "Before they get here?" She curled her sore paw.

• "Before they reach Vahrolm... I feel the weather will change tomorrow, so we must hurry up and burn his body."

• "I don't know. We only met a small group of people. Out of curiosity, we approached them because they looked different. It turned out they were wearing armor and something like a bow, but louder. But we've seen worse things in life... It was about two or three days of leisurely flight from here... Vahrolm, it's quite far..."

Golvokun thought for a moment. - "They were probably scouts. They are closer than I thought... Yes, less than two days of flight in good conditions, including a little rest... Viings, we need to hurry, and you, Viings two, rest for a while."

She nodded, put the bag around her neck, and gave the other bag to Golvokun. She made him pack dried meat, she packed bandages, various herbs, fresh and dried. She looked at her sister's paw. - "What about your paw? You're bleeding."

• "I had an arrow too. There was no time to take care of it." She raised her paw to lick it.

Golvokun and Viingsevgir were leaving the cave, but Viingsekesty quickly returned and went over to the bookshelf to leave a little clue in case their daughter came home while they were away. She quickly turned, hearing behind her that several other books had fallen off the shelf, but it was not the time to clean up.

The moon illuminated the riverbank with cold light. The night was cool, the gusts of wind carried the scent of pine forests. Wild animals were looking for a hiding place in panic, and the night birds fell silent when they heard the distinct sound of the thumping of three pairs of great wings.

After many flaps of the wings which stirred the cool air. In the cool dawn, the dragons reached the home of Viingsedwiin where also lived Viingsevgir and the already dead Veydoved. It was a large cave. A wooden porch was built in front of the entrance, and its roof was covered with flowering vines. Golgaaryol and Viingsebii's parents viewed the lavish gardens in front of the house. Few dragons have ever engaged in ornamental horticulture on this scale. The maintenance of vegetables and fruits was ordinary because they brought food, but the maintenance of many kinds of ornamental plants was different. Dragons' mansions didn't have much decoration in those days, but this house was different. The wooden porch was decorated with engravings of dragons, griffins, and flowers. It was a very old art made by Faasnufeykro, the father of Viingsekesty and Viingsevgir. The wooden beams were already cracked and gray, but still very impressive. Four richly carved, oak columns stood on a stone foundation and supported the carved arches that held a gabled roof covered with wooden shingles that looked like scales. At the front, the roof was decorated with carved slats. The top of the roof was decorated with a carved dragon's head, and its corners ended in carved griffins. The whole thing looked like an entrance to a palace that was embedded in the stone wall. In this part of the human kingdom, it was the last reminder that dragons used to build beautiful houses for themselves, using the terrain and natural rock formations.

A wide avenue with many colorful, flowering shrubs along its sides ran from the grassy meadow used as a landing site to the ornate porch. Furthermore, very old pines made a wonderful park. They walked, dropping drops of dew collected on the grass at night. Their heads filled with melancholy, when memories of the old days struck them, when the stone walls of this cave were seeing many happy dragons in the warm interior. Although the pines in the park were old, they also remembered from their youth how the hatchlings were playing among them.

• "Nothing has changed." Golvokun whispered. "I mean the place... but everything else has changed..."

• "The trees are much bigger."

• "I remember when we lived here, then we left, then we came back again and our hatchlings were running around this park and playing with the older ones."

• "I remember everything well too." Her claws were scratching the ground lightly. "This place has seen many dragons."

Viingsevgir walked in front of them without a word. The tail was trailing lazily behind her.

They stepped under the roof of the great porch, pausing for a moment to look at the carved dragons and griffins. They passed through the hanging skins at the cave entrance. They were greeted by the sight of a very old steel-colored dragoness. She had always been the color that now somewhat hid the gray of her old age, but her age was evident in sunken muscles, bony arms, sunken face, dull scales and in the wrinkled membranes of wings. She was sitting next to the dead Veydoved, hugging his body with her wing. Viingsedwiin turned slowly, her gray eyes were looking at the guests. No words were spoken. Viingsekesty walked over to her mother, pressed her nose against the cheek and looked into her gray eye. The dragon was very old, she could no longer fly, she could barely walk, but her gaze was still sharp, like that of a young dragon; there was no old age in her eyes. She had the same eyes as Golgaaryol. She closed her eyes and pressed her head against Viingsekesty's neck, wondering if her grandhatchlings would come too.

Golvokun greeted the old dragon, with his nose rubbing her cheek. As he bowed his head, his eyes met the head of his dead brother. He couldn't hold back anymore, leaning over the body a few tears began to soak at the black scales with green tips. He quickly closed his eyes because he didn't want to remember him like that. He tried to remember brother's amber eyes. He covered him with his black-green wing.

---

*

She has left the terrible sights of war behind. The smells of smoke and spilled blood turned into a soothing breeze of pine woods. She felt much calmer and very tired. It felt as if her eyelids would close immediately and her body would weaken as soon as her fingers touched the soft grass. The sapphire dragoness felt herself begin to weaken. Each beat of her wings was almost too much effort, but on the horizon, beneath the layers of mist, she saw the well-known shapes of the meandering river, what was renewing her strength. She shivered with the rush of muscle pain, the feeling of cold air on the membranes, and the impact of memories of her family home. She stopped flapping her wings, began to glide, slowly lowering her flight. The outlines of familiar hills began to loom above the morning mist, behind the coniferous carpet of the pine forest. She could already feel the touch of the scales of her mother and father, and she saw her brother smile; he was always happy when she came home.

Her paws, longingly, touched the ground, shedding silver drops of dew from the tall grasses. She was walking near the river bank. The sun has not yet risen above the ancient pines. She groaned slightly as she folded tired wings, only now noticed the hole in the membrane. She moved her paws to restore feeling in fingers and to get rid of the tingling caused by not using them during the flight. The landing and the tightening of the muscles in her chest have reminded her of another pain. With her teeth she pulled out the arrow stuck in the scales on her ribs. Vision and breathing dimmed for a moment of pain. The reeds and cattails rustled, rubbing against the black-tipped azure scales as she approached the river. Swans, ducks and cranes took off, flapping their wings quickly, they found a new place a little further up the river. First she dipped her forepaws in cold water, and its touch was almost painful on the pads, to which the hot blood was slowly returning. Then she dipped her head for a moment, closing the nictitating membranes against the silver eyes. She looked up, taking a few deep breaths, and took a few sips of the cool water. She moved forward and all submerged under the water, her scales pressing tightly against skin. She waved the aching wings a few times, splashing water down her back. The feeling of the cool water was quite stimulating. She stepped out of the river, brushing off the scales, and the droplets glistened in the first rays of the sun that was casting distinct beams of golden light on the brilliant mists floating in the valley. Her stomach growled loud and clear, painfully demanding for food. She took the narrow path up the hill of jagged limestone where there was a well-known cave. An involuntary smile appeared on her face, and her head was filled with imaginary dialogues with her family, their reactions to the messages she wanted to convey. She missed them as much as she was tired now. She was afraid that would fall asleep before she could say what she wanted or even greet them.

Her nostrils searched for the long-awaited home scent, but the scent was different, more sweet-metallic. She was walking slowly, reaching the entrance. All her persisting humor and thoughtfulness in the memories turned to fear and worry as she saw the traces of scarlet blood. She gasped and ran into the cave in despair because she found no one there. She forgot about her fatigue. The bloodstains ran from the entrance almost to the pile of furs. Her nose clearly felt the smell of her parents, she went to the furs, rested her paw on them, but the animal furs were already cold. The blood was already drying on the stone floor, but the marks were not old. The heart pounded in her chest as she saw a few overturned things. The place where bandages and medication always lay was empty. She ran to her brother's bed, the smell was slightly weaker than the smell of her parents, he was gone longer. Everything said something was wrong. She looked at the small pile of books on the shelf, one of them was open and pinned under a wooden figurine carved in the shape of a seated dragon. The other griffin-shaped figurine had been thrown off the shelf and lay on a deer skin next to other carelessly scattered books. These figurines were made by their grandfather. Golgaaryol used them to prop up books on both sides, he loved and respected them very much, wouldn't let throw them off. Her stomach acutely reminded her of hunger and even took her away from worries. Parents always kept some dried meat. She looked at the rock ledge and found no food there, and her stomach grumbled painfully. There were only a few dried fruits.

She's always brought her family interesting treats from the human city. This time she was in such a hurry that she didn't even take her bag to carry things. She noticed the leather straps behind the pile of furs. Her brother hasn't taken his bag, it was a very well done thing made by their grandfather. The bag had many abrasions and sewn up holes, but still she could see the beautiful and careful artisanship. On the leather there were burned by a sharp tool the patterns that drew on the bag edges the image of a dragon and on the other side a griffin. Grandpa loved that theme. The peace treaty between dragons and griffins was a big thing in his parents' generation... There used to be griffins here. A few old coins rattled in the bag and nothing else, no food, no dried fruit... whatever. Did they get away from here? Viingsebii picked it up and threw the leather straps around her neck, and the bag was hung over her shoulder. She picked up the old, oak griffin figurine, several books from the floor and placed them on the shelf. She focused her attention on the open book, hoping that it would be a clue, she knew Golgaaryol had already read it...

The dragon figurine was positioned as if it was underlining a piece of text; "My offer was simple. I would do everything in my power to protect their village from whatever they needed it protected from. Generally speaking that would be bandits, I imagined, or wild beasts now and then. Should their village flood I could even carry them to higher ground. Essentially, any sort of protection services a dragon might be able to offer..." Hmm... The dragon visits a human village... Vahrolm! Are they defending the human village again? She looked at the books nearby, everything her brother had read recently. They were rather sad stories about human friendship with dragons and even griffins... She had already read them, these stories have colored her mind with many images. Her stomach hurt again so badly that she groaned and arched her back. She looked quickly around the cave, her eyes slightly losing focus from exhaustion. Apart from the emptiness and the silence, there was nothing to catch her eye.

With tears in her eyes she ran out of the cave. She struck her wings, the pain in her muscles was even worse when they rested only for a short while. She forced the wings to work, feeling as if her muscles and tendons were bursting. She hissed in pain and took deep breaths of the moist air from above the river. She immediately headed north, hoping to find some prey on the way. She could barely fly, the wounded membrane ached as the right wing was tugged by the east wind. She noticed traces of blood on ribs because the arrow, however, had pierced the scales. She was too tired to feel it before, but she saw that by drawing the arrow, she had further torn the wound.

---

*

Cones were cracking under their paw pads. The three dragons came out to cut down a few pines. They worked in silence. Only the sounds of the claws scraping, their breaths, and the beating of their hearts surrounded them. And above them the eastern wind rustled in green needles and swayed the tall trees. Every now and then the mournful music of the silence was accompanied by the sounds of woodpecker beats, the scream of a raven. The little, singing birds fell silent, seeing the three dragons. Immersed in their memories, they focused on their work as best they could. Nobody needed words, they avoided looking into each other's eyes. After two loud cracks of a tree breaking, only silence remained apart from the wind. The echo of the rumble faded slowly into the forest, silencing all birds and animals. The dragons were returning home, pulling large trunks capable of supporting the dragon's weight.

The old, steel dragoness prepared solid ropes. They laid his body on its side and tied him to pine logs. A leather belt encircled his wings, cold paws were tied to the beams, several wooden crossbars held it all together, supporting his head and tail.

They went north through the pine park, dragging the dragon's body. Then they turned east. Following the narrow path, they passed the rock face of the dragon's house. They lifted Veydoved to their shoulders, holding him well with the arms of their wings. The path went up, curling, several times turning left and right before taking them to the top of the hill. Staring at their webbed paws gliding on the sand, they felt that their climb was over. Now there is only a straight path to the last farewell. Behind the line of bushes, the entire area of the plateau was covered with mounds, covered with grass, mosses, heather and many stones. There used to be a beautiful forest here, a long time ago, today it is a place of silence, sadness and respect. None of the hills were natural, each was a burial mound, a great reminder of the great beasts existence.

Their pace was very slow. On her trembling paws, Viingsedwiin was also supporting some of the Veydoved's weight. She was still strong, but she was getting tired quickly. She was walking slowly, seeing Viingsevgir's dark blue tail dragging across the ground in front of her. On the right, Golvokun's black tail shuffled with its spikes, and next to her, shuffled claws of the paw with the color of a sky at dawn.

They put him on the overgrown graveyard alley. The steel-scaled dragon sat down next to his body and covered him with her wing. The three dragons flew away, every now and then one of them was flying in, carrying a large pile of beams and pine branches. The whole thing was arranged in a large pile of wood.

Viingsedwiin looked at their work, she wanted to help them, but could not. Just coming here made her sit down and rest, her bony paws shaking with exhaustion. She looked at many other mounds holding the bones of her family members, there were so many of them already. There were many more barrows than the dragons currently living in these lands. Her wing gripped the Veydoved body tighter. Mentally she greeted him with everyone else in this place.

Tired dragons approached her too plunged in thought. They had to touch her wing to release his body from her grip. They placed him on top of a pile of wood, on a bed of spruce and pine branches, freed his paws and wings from the grip of ropes and straps. His head was facing the afternoon sun that was breaking through the layer of light clouds.

They watched as his green-tipped black scales gleamed one last time in the sunlight. Finally their eyes got too wet to look at, so they knew it was time to finish it.

Four dragons lined up on the four sides of the funeral pyre. Golvokun tapped four times hard with the pine branches to attract the attention of all the ancestral spirits present. The echoes of the blows faded a long time, carried by the eastern wind. The sound reflected clearly from each barrow, carried along a lonely highland overgrown with a quiet wind, and through the forests beyond the sad highlands where silence dwells. The spirits of the ancestors descend by heart on invisible wings, causing the heathers in the lonely highlands to stir. When the echoes died away, they drew air into their lungs and breathed fire. Except Viingsedwiin, who just coughed. Pain arose under her lungs, it turned out that she was no longer able to gather strength. Shivers ran down her spine, her wings drooping at her sides. Others gave her a brief look of understanding. The dragonfire erupted in an instant and swiftly engulfed the pile of wood and the body of another inhabitant of the peaceful plateau.

The funeral pyre burned brightly. The wood crackled. The wind that carried the wings of his spirit carried smoke to the west. The three dragons took off to share the flight with the dead dragon one last time, circled high, raised their heads and roared mightily into the sky, and the sky was not uncaring and responded with a distant thunder.

They landed together, watching the spirits dance in the flames. The pile was burning for a long time. The sun was getting lower and the storm was getting closer. They were together, sleepy, tired, hungry. They chose a spot on the right, uprooted the heathers and grass, and began digging. Their claws scratched the bright sand and black ground, pulled out old tree trunks and large stones.

The weather was changing, strong gusts of wind tugged at the heathers. She watched their work again. The smell of freshly dug earth, smoke of harvested wood, and burning body reminded the spirits of everyone who had gone. Viingsedwiin closed her gray eyes as if feeling the presence of her parents, sisters and brothers. The wind was blowing against the scales on her face, and she felt the comforting touch of the spirits. - "The Fire Dragon took his body. The Wind Dragon will take his spirit up into the sky. The Earth Dragon, like a father, will hug his son's remains in an eternal embrace, and The Water Dragon will bring him relief." Viingsedwiin whispered softly, more to herself, but everyone heard it.

---

*

She was looking for hunting opportunities. Recently, she used to buy food from butchers in the cities. Does she have the strength to hunt anything? The two roe deer quickly fled into the forest, hiding from the dragon. There were no animals in the open area, must have been taught by the presence of the dragons and knew well how to hide. Another pain pierced her stomach, this time so severe that she curled her wings and drooped slightly before forcing herself to unfold them. Her tail curled and she screamed. It was the first moment of real fear on this journey. The dragons might not eat for a couple of days, but at the expense of their strength and certainly not during sustained exertion. She was too weak to hunt. She hoped she could fly... anywhere to civilization.

There were four of them. Their eyes were fixed on the sky. Their fur, as in the dust, turned gray. Behind green hills covered with tall grass, the wolves dragged their prey. It may not be worthy behavior for a dragon to take someone else's prey, but it's the only chance to finally eat something. She roared with the last of her strength over the wolves that quickly ran away. A moment of desperation. She landed hard, her paws trembling with the effort. She limped towards the torn body of the little roe deer, and threw herself at the meat without bothering its fur. The wolves walked away and looked at her as if they understood her desperation, although she saw fury and fear in their eyes, she also thought she saw understanding and respect as well... or her mind was already too tired. The wolves turned to gray patches bathed in a sea of green. She blinked several times, realizing that her body was lying on the grass and her nose was pressed against the remains of the meat and bones. She didn't remember falling over. She licked her face, soiled with blood. She lifted her trembling body on all fours, feeling the throbbing pain in her head and eyes. She forced herself to take off, first mentally, then by deed, ran, spread her shaky wings and roared in pain as she took off. The wolves immediately returned to eat the remains of the roe deer.

She was flying over a gravel road, not far from the river. Digesting a piece of the roe deer gave additional effort, but also helped relieve the crippling abdominal pain for a while. The sky ahead was darkening unnaturally fast. The setting sun illuminated the uplifted clouds in the distance, at their base a shelf cloud spread wide like mighty wings over the forests, and the clearly defined convection motions shaped the clouds into the tail of a great, murky beast. The sky was tinged with purple and the air with warm, difficult to breathe moisture. Her attention was drawn to some commotion on the road; horses, carts, people... and blood on the road, a lot of blood. It was disturbing, but she didn't have the strength and time to be interested in it. She skipped it when she saw several people pointing their hands in her direction. Suddenly a familiar, sweet-metallic smell hit her nostrils. The blood in their house smelled almost the same. She spun quickly in the air and descended to land, not bothering with the presence of people and horses. People started running away, horses too. The goods cart overturned, the drawbar broke and freed the tied animals, which whinnied and whimpered loudly. The dragoness sniffed blood on the road, it was definitely dragon's blood, dragon scent. The traces weren't old, something must have happened tonight or in the morning. Only the sharp stones were stained with blood. The dragon had to take to the sky again. Sharp pieces protruded from under the blood... little pieces of scales... gray scales... "No!" Tears gathered in the silver eyes, burning with gold in the sunlight. She looked at the people hiding behind the trees. "I'm s-sorry." She whispered, panting with exhaustion. Soon the rain will wash away the blood trails... She took a moment to watch the sky. It looks like a massive storm. Fear for her family allowed her to extract the last of her strength. With a great groan, she took off towards the menacingly roaring sky. The gusts of wind grew stronger and struck harder against her aching wings. Her flight was very unstable and slow. She saw that the constant tensing of the muscles has severely damaged the wound in her chest, it was still bleeding, the wound should have healed by now. The pain was becoming agonizing with every breath, and they were quick. The wind was also beating hard against the wounded membrane of the right wing. The first drops of sweet, cold water hit her scales, and she realized that she would not make it before the rain. The destination is still far away...

Please, let everything be alright...

---

*

They waited until the pile started to burn out. They placed moss and heather at the bottom of the dug depression. The wind and the first drops of rain struck their scales in the last rays of the blazing west. The last fires hissed, moved by the rain, were sending the light gray smoke into the air.

After the dragon's body remained only the skeleton sunk in the hissing embers, in the memories of the scales. The three dragons came to retrieve his remains. They put his bones on a bed of soft moss. They covered him with spruce branches. Fresh water and salty tears mingled and dripped from their scales. They covered him with a layer of ash, sand and earth, and the rain made mud sticking to their paw pads.

Lightning bolts erupted overhead, and the pouring rain extinguished the remains of the coals. They poured the earth and ash down to cover the needles until a mound was formed. They placed a stone on the mound, and on it, Golvokun with his claws placed six runes. Four signified the elemental dragons, the earth dragon was below, the fire and water on the sides, and the air dragon above. All were connected together by a set of arcs to form the symbol of the guardian of souls, the cycle of equilibrium, a symbol of continuity and duration. Two runes, Veydo, Ved, placed in the center, signified the name of the dragon.

Their scales were fitting snugly against the skin to create a better layer of insulation. Everyone mentally said goodbye to a member of their family, they welcomed him with every spirit of this place. They looked at the earthy mound, bathed in rain, which like all the others would soon turn into covered with heather and moss. In other, lower, less sandy places, dragons usually planted oaks on the burial mounds. There were mainly pines, birches, and spruces in this area, but only oak was a worthy symbol of the power and longevity of dragons.

A night storm covered this sad plateau with a dark blanket. White lights danced on the family's barrows. Lightning flashes illuminating the outlines of the mounds and stones with names. The hum of wind and rain drowned out the whispers of the ancient spirits. They turned slowly, walking side by side down the wide cemetery alley, their tails scraping across the muddy ground.

Golvokun spread his black-green wings to shield their heads from the sweet raindrops, but it didn't help stop soaking their scales with salt water. - "Tomorrow we're going to the village... as soon as we can."

Viingsevgir pressed her nose against Viingsedwiin's head. - "Mom..." The moment of silence was quite long. "I... I will fly with them..."

The steel dragon looked at them. - "Is Golgaaryol there? Why didn't he come with you? Recent meetings with people did not end well."

• "Yes, he's there... There was no time to go get him... We have to hurry... It's a very bad time for such talks... Bad things are happening. Everything looks like humans are getting ready for another war."

Viingsedwiin looked at them for a moment. - "I see..." She just realized that her house would be empty. She will be left alone in a place that has seen many happy families, there will be no more dragons. She was struck by the realization that she had lost her fire, knew what that meant, she hadn't had much life left. Others knew it too. "Please come here... with Viingsebii and Golgaaryol." With pain, she looked at Viingsevgir, who at this difficult moment did not even know where her sons and daughter were.

• "This is what we are going to do. As soon as we see what's going on there. We'll try to come back as soon as possible."

They wiped the mud from their paws on the soft grass and washed them thoroughly in a small stream. They came home to dry the scales, eat pieces of dried meat, lie down next to each other and comfort with each other's warmth.

Despite great exhaustion, covered with the wings of others, Viingsevgir cried long and silently before falling asleep, cuddled with other dragons, and clutching in her paw the black scale with a green tip.

---

*

To be continued...

*

A few more words.

December 2020, somehow just before Christmas.

I was at work when I came up with the death scene. I just think a lot about death, especially in December, especially before Christmas. I thought about what a dragon burial could look like. I wanted to write down a few things.

As I reached for the phone, my dad called to say that my uncle had died. My dad had been in the hospital for a month, my mother and I were in home isolation due to illness. It was my second or third day of work after a month on sick leave.

My uncle had been transferred to a hospital in another town. Due to the restrictions, the family could not visit him. His heart had given up. Due to restrictions, only a few people were allowed to attend the funeral.

(I write it down because I know I'll forget it. This was what last Christmas was like)