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They, or I should say he, have asked me to record my earliest memories and at least some of my history. I will say at the outset that I am not at all comfortable with this idea but that I will, as I always have, try to please him. Some would say it is in my nature to do so but perhaps that is getting a bit ahead of the tale. No matter the reason, instinct or respect, I will endeavor to do as Artos asks of me. Perhaps it is the least that I can do for all that he has done for me. I have a place to live, food, a place within the courts if I wish it, and am mostly left to my own devices by and large due to his influence. And so, I write.

The way that I remember or recall things is certainly not the way that others will or, perhaps more to the point, I do not see things the way humans do. My experience with human memory is that it tends to color things to better flatter themselves and follow preconceived notions of how they expect things to be to the point of actually skewing reality. Some would say that it is the same with my kind, but I think the tendency less so and Artos (and others) agree with me on this point. My kind has little need to alter the past to fit our notions of how things should be.

If this offends some then so be it. If I hurt anyone who I am fond of, I do apologize inasmuch as I am able to do so. Those who know me well know that I would never willingly hurt any I call friend. Of course, those that know me well would also expect that if I did do something to hurt them it would be unintentional on my part and that I would scarcely be aware that I was doing it. They would call it the price of being my friend. I do not like this, but who am I to tell someone that they cannot befriend me? A troubling thing. But again, I get ahead...

I do not recall my birth or hatching, but that is scarcely odd as I know of no creature who does. I also remember very little of my first years, which is again normal, or even my first several decades for that matter. I have fuzzy memories of going from place to place, looking for food and shelter. Oddly, perhaps, I never wondered at why I was alone or why everyone I ran across was human and there were seemingly no others of my kind. I was me, what more could I know? That others were different from me seemed normal.

Some reading this will wonder at this point about my parents, perhaps offering sympathy. Please do not. I think that I can handle that the least of all human emotions, pity. There are reasons. Artos knows them, his brother perhaps more so. The King...that is another story, for another time and place. If you continue to read this you will understand about my parents in due time.

Some have said that my memory must have been altered by someone or some event. Phaegus thinks this to be a foolish notion as not even he can effect me much with his magic and he is the strongest mage in many centuries. Lady Dawn also thinks it unlikely as the gods have shown great reluctance to involve me with their magic. I know little of these matters so I trust their judgment over my own. They have not tired to cause me harm, at least not after those first few weeks, and I have come to trust them even other than to please Artos.

My first strong memory is of finding the camp that Artos and his men had set up. I was hungry enough at the time to approach the fire, something I had learned by painful lesson to avoid in the past. I think by that time I had all but given up on providing for myself. Hunger had ever been a constant companion to me, that and the fear of and running from humans. Dragons are never welcome near human settlements.

I should say now that Phaegus does not think me to be a dragon in the classical sense. He's not sure that they are extinct, but no one has seen one in thousands of years. My race, or species, seems related in some way, save that we walk on our hind legs and are more humanoid in appearance. Perhaps that is even more reason to shun us, or me, I know not. Phaegus has always been evasive about what he knows of my kind or where we came from and I respected that at the time and even now in hindsight. Phaegus would never have kept anything from me unless he believed it to be harmful.

I was hungry, very hungry. How many days had passed since my last meal, I do not recall. I had been chased out of several villages, called a goblin and worse, shot at and even grazed by a crossbow bolt, and was just plain tired and worn. That I was braving villages to try to find food is a clear indication of how hungry I was, even thinking back all these years. I was even starting to contemplate eating carrion; many animals will if they are desperate enough.

Sorry Artos, I know that you do not like it when I or when others refer to myself as an animal.

I wanted to go home, though how I had a notion of a place I had never been or could recall I know not. I wanted to be someplace, anyplace, where someone would feed me, take care of me, and keep others from hurting me.

Phaegus and Artos feel that this was instinctive for a dragon of my age. It is the consensus that I am not very old and I would agree with this. My growth has been steady, so it would seem that I am still of growing years, unless of course my kind never stops growing. I have matured mentally and physically as well, so it stands to reason that they are correct.

As I said, I came across their campfire, keeping my distance, as I knew better than to barge in to where humans were. Hard lessons learned early on. It was a dark night, I do recall that, and I think that it made me brave. I see far better than humans do in the dark and I knew that at the time. No matter how young and inexperienced I was I still had good powers of observation, something that Artos praises me about and uses me for frequently.

The wind was blowing, carrying sparks from their fire away and, instinctively, I moved to the downwind side to avoid their dogs smelling me. Most dogs will run from me, but even that would have alerted them to my presence. I crept forward very carefully, staying out of what I reasoned to be human eyesight. Little did I know that I had utterly underestimated the keen eyesight of a northerner. It is said that Lady El could spot a snow hare on a snowfield from a full mile away. She certainly saw me that night. I have asked since that time why she did not shoot me outright or raise an alarm, but she has never given me a straight answer. I get the sense that it somehow embarrasses her, but I know not why. She has never been very comfortable around me. Many are not.

At that time I stood under four feet high, considerably smaller than I am now, and weaker due to the lack of good food. I waited for quite some time, idly listening to their conversation but understanding very little. I knew a few words of their tongue, mostly having to do with alarmed calls at my presence and words for food. Soon Artos, who seemed to me to be the leader of the group, went to bed as did the rest of the party. They left a single man on watch and he had moved to the far side of the fire, which I considered to be a great fortune at the time. Even better was the plate of food that someone had left on the downwind side of the fire, farthest from the sentry.

I was excited about the idea of perhaps being able to get some decent food without raising a hue and cry. I waited awhile longer before sneaking it, slinking towards the plate. I carefully took the plate and moved as fast as I dared back into the woods. For some reason, I paused a short way in, just looking down at the plate with wide eyes, not quite believing my good fortune. A large steak, bread, potatoes, all just sitting there. It was as if someone had made up a plate of food just for me. Perhaps that is what gave me pause; it seemed as if something was not quite right.

Well, it was not, but things worked out for well in the end.

I had no sooner taken a bite, chewing happily, when arms closed around me from behind. I squealed, twisting, trying to get away, but whatever it was had me firmly. I would have bitten whoever it was in my fear, but they had their arms in such a way that I could not turn my head to do so. Artos' brother, Jerim, has a great deal of skill in dealing with animals as well as taking down humans without hurting them. He was certainly able to capture me, young and inexperienced as I was, and carry me back to the fire. I think perhaps that scared me more than anything else: being brought back to the fire. Fire meant humans in close proximity and that always meant trouble. I thrashed about, squealing, but was unable to get free.

The party surrounded me after Jerim bound my hands and sat me down, blocking all ways of escape. I made as if to turn and they simply closed ranks. A few had swords drawn, which though I had no idea of what they were at the time, I sensed that they would harm me. None had crossbows, which made me feel a little better about the situation.

They stood around, staring at me, and I ducked down, trying to make myself smaller just in case they did try to shoot me. Instinct kept me low, head down, submissive, knowing that I was in no way a match for any of these humans and that my only hope was that would have mercy on me. Even then I knew that humans were not usually merciful and felt that my life, however brief, had come to an end.

And then suddenly I was tired, so very tired, that I simply collapsed, laying there with my hands tied behind my back, tongue lolling out, panting. I think that I had simply given up on life and if they were going to kill me, then so be it. I only hoped they would be quick about it.

I should note that this point that the following conversation has been reconstructed by talking to those present who were willing to speak to me about what happened that night. Some would say nothing, feeling guilty for how I was treated or what they wanted to do to me. I hold no grudges. It is a waste of time and energy for one and, in all honesty, how could I blame them? I am a freak of nature after all.

Sorry Artos.

"What in the hell is it?" Artos said, staring at me with interest.

"I'm not rightly sure, Lord Artos..."