Revaramek the Resplendent - Chapters One Hundred Ten, and One Hundred Eleven (Patreon)

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Chapter One Hundred Ten
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Mirelle awoke when sunlight poured over her face. She groaned and rolled away, shading her eyes with her hand while they adjusted to the morning. It took her a few moments to remember where she was, and why everything was so bright. In the marsh the morning sunlight always seemed extra bright when it reflected off all the water. But here, even the grass that surrounded her seemed to glow with a golden shine.

“Morning, Mirelle!”

There was far too much cheeriness in the dragon’s brassy voice for Mirelle’s liking. She tugged her bedroll up over her head, hiding herself in the semi-darkness. “I’m not coming out till you turn down the sun.”

“Afraid that’s not going to happen till nightfall. Not a cloud in the sky. But if you’d rather hunker down in your bedroll while Nyra and I explore the desert, I can leave you behind.”

Mirelle forced herself to sit up, squinting at the green dragon who sat alongside their fire pit. “Very funny.” She worked her tongue around, her lips were dry, and grit irritated her teeth. She reached for her canteen. “Since when do you get up before me?”

“Since today, apparently. If you’re hungry, we’ve cooked you some…” Revaramek waved his paw at a vaguely lizard-like creature splayed out and sizzling on a hot stone next to the fire. “Well, whatever that is.”

Mirelle grunted. “Looks…” She popped her canteen open and swished some water around in her mouth, trying to think of a polite way to respond. When her mouth was rinsed, she spat the water onto the grass. “Well, thanks for the effort, at least.”

“The book says it’s edible! I also got you some of those cactus fruits you were eating last night.”

“Which I told you were edible.” Mirelle wriggled free of her bedroll and stood, stretching her arms. The morning air was cooler than she expected, despite the harshness of the sun’s glare. It smelt crisp and clean, and the breeze carried the scent of mineral rich water, along with the scent of wood smoke, and the aroma of cooked meat from whatever creature Revaramek had cooked for her. “Doesn’t smell too bad, at least.”

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want too. It’ll make a nice snack for Nyra later.”

Mirelle ignored him and gazed around. Though they had spent the night on a small swath of long, wild grass between two hills, greenery seemed a rare commodity. The hills around them were low, wide, and barren. Little covered them beyond chunks of broken, burnt-orange sandstone, and cacti. The mountains that had crossed over the last week already looked distant, looming sun-painted sentinels standing watch over the entryway to the great marsh. Nearby, thick lines of trees and brush sheltered the edges of a spring-fed creek. Flat stones and a few tree stumps littered the area just beyond the grasses. Splashing and oddly-musical draconic laughter in the distance mingled with bird song and a few buzzing insects.

“Nyra’s having a bath, I take it?”

“Fishing, actually.”

“Fishing?” Mirelle fetched one of her knives, and settled down near the fire. She used the blade to prod at the pebbly, black and yellow lizard cooking on the hot stones. Rev had gutted the thing, at least. “You sure this is edible?”

“Fishing is what she calls it, anyway. When she’s running up and down a creek chasing fish.” Rev picked up an old book from nearby, and set it before her. It was already open to a page with a depiction of the creature she was about to eat. “See? Edible.”

“That says venomous, Rev.” Mirelle tapped the page with her knife tip.

“Right! You see, venomous means it’s only dangerous if it bites you. Poisonous means, you cannot eat it.”

Mirelle groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s far too early to be talked down to by a dragon. I’ll eat it, but if it poisons me, I’m going to neuter you before I die.”

“You’d miss using them for target practice.”

“If I’m dead, it’ll hardly matter.” Mirelle laughed as she used her blade to peel back the creature’s hide, and exposed the cooked meat beneath. She sliced a bit off and popped it into my mouth before she could stop herself. She chewed it, and found it had an odd taste, slightly musty but also surprisingly sweet. “Better than I expected.”

“Oh, Mirelle, wait, you’re eating the poisonous part!”

Mirelle froze for a second, then shot the dragon a glare when she realized he was fighting back a cackle. “You’d better watch yourself when I get my boots on.”

“I always do.” Revaramek scratched at his neck with a wing tip. “So how did you sleep?”

“Fine, once you two stopped whispering and giggling like a couple of children.”

“Nyra and I have never been on an adventure before!” Revaramek flared his wings out, arching his neck. “I think we’re due a bit of child-like glee in our first shared adventure. First of many, I am certain.”

Mirelle cut some more meat away, and took another few bites. Then she leaned over and speared one of the red cactus fruits with her knife. As she sat back up, she glanced at the dragon. The sunlight left him silhouetted against the golden sands beyond. His stripes and wing-blotches shone with copper fire, and made his green scales glitter like emeralds. Though she’d never hear the end of it if she told him, she had to admit that he did look at least a little resplendent.

“You’re right, Rev. You do deserve your glee with her.” Mirelle smiled, and peeled the fruit, then took a big bite. Its juicy sweetness proved a delectable counterpart to the reptile meat, and she took to alternating between bites of each. “So what’s the plan for today?”

“As soon as Nyra’s back, we pack up and-”

“I’m stopping you right there.” Mirelle shook her head, black hair blowing around her face in the breeze. “We haven’t even gotten to the desert yet, and I’m already feeling dirty, and gritty. I’m not going anywhere till I have a chance to have a bath.”

“I’m not sure we have time for-”

“If Nyra gets a bath, I get a bath.” Mirelle wagged her knife at him before she used it to spear another cactus fruit. “And that’s that. So, after the bath, we’ll pack up and…? Then what?”

Revaramek flexed his wings, folding them back against his body. He twisted his long neck around to gaze across the distant sands. “We go…that way.”

“That’s it?” Mirelle chewed a bite of fruit, then licked her lips. “I’m not trying to be sarcastic, I’m just curious.”

Revaramek murmured, low in his throat. His spines drooped a little. “Unless you have a better idea of what and where star’s blessing is, going out and looking for Asterbury’s oasis is the only idea I’ve got. If it’s within a day’s flight, and we fly high enough, we should be able to spot it by evening. But we’ll bring as much water as we can carry, just in case, and if we’re halfway through out water supplies before we’ve found anything, we’ll return here to restock, and try another direction.”

“I’d love to be able to offer you a second idea, but I haven’t gotten one.”

“That’s alright, Mirelle, I appreciate the thought. With any luck we’ll-”

Revaramek jerked his head up at the sound of crashing brush and snapping wood. Mirelle whirled around just in time to see Nyramyn charging through the vegetation alongside the river, with an immense silvery fish wriggling in her jaws. She shouted something in draconic, but Mirelle doubted even Rev could understand it with the way the fish garbled her speech. A few bits of vine clung around her green-scaled legs, and shredded fronts hung from the finned spines of her tail before she skidded to a stop.

Nyramyn spat the bloodied fish to the ground at Revaramek’s paws. It flopped about a few times, mouth working. Excitement bubbled in her voice as she spoke to Rev. She beamed at Mirelle, spoke again and pointed to the fish.

Revaramek’s bronze eyes went wide as stared down at the fish. “Look at this thing, Mirelle, it’s almost as big as my foreleg!”

“I can see that, Rev.” Mirelle ate the last of her cactus fruit, and stood up again. “Tell her I said, good job. And that she’s clearly far better at fishing than you are.”

“I am not telling her that!” Revaramek stretched his neck and nuzzled his mate, then spoke to her in their tongue. “I told her the first part.”

Nyramyn beamed at Mirelle again, bowed her head in wordless thanks, and then chattered at Revaramek. She hopped back and forth on her paws, her tail lashing. Nyra pointed her muzzle at the fish, spoke again, and gave Revaramek a look that was all smug question.

“She just asked you if you’d ever caught a fish that big, didn’t she?” Mirelle laughed as she put her knife away. “And I bet you haven’t.”

“Who has caught the bigger fish is hardly important right now.”

“Uh huh. Then you won’t have any problem translating this for me.” Mirelle eased around the fire to stand between the two dragons. She patted Nyra’s chest plates for her attention, then turned towards Rev and pointed at the fish. “That is the largest fish I’ve ever seen, and Revaramek has never caught anything close to that in all the years I’ve known him.”

“That is entirely-”

Nyra snapped her jaws and gave a low growl.

Mirelle folded her arms. “Sounds to me like she’s expecting a translation.”

Revaramek heaved a sigh, and then translated. Nyramyn’s delighted laughter told Mirelle he’d translated accurately this time. “I hope you’re happy! Now she has reason to doubt my fish-catching abilities!”

“I suspect she’s got reason to doubt more about you than that.”

“Nonsense, Mirelle, I’m the sun in her sky.” Revaramek arched his neck.

“You’re awfully dim for a sun.” Mirelle waved her hand to cut the dragon off before he could reply again. “Anyway, while you enjoy the fish that shecaught, I’m going to take a bath.”

“Not alone, you’re not.” Revaramek thumped his tail on the grass behind him. “I’ll go with you.”

“The hell you will, Rev. The last thing I want right now is some perverted lizard leering at me while I’m bathing.”

“I’m not going with to leer at you! And it’s not as if I haven’t already seen you naked. We’ve bathed together before, if you’ve forgotten.”

Heat rushed to Mirelle’s cheeks, and she grit her teeth, jabbing a finger at the dragon’s plated chest. “I remember you intruding on my bath, yes. And I remember making you look away. Or trying too anyway.”

“I was a perfect gentleman.” A smirk crept across the dragon’s muzzle. “Why, even when I snuck a peek and saw everything, I only got the tiniest bit-AWWH!” Rev yelped and hunched forward when Mirelle shot her foot between his hind legs.

Mirelle giggled at the cross-eyed expression the overtook the dragon’s face. “Find one?”

“Oh yes…” Rev coughed, and then gave a little groan, his ears flattening back. “Better than…you meant too, I suspect. Uhrrn.”

Behind her, Nyramyn burst into laughter and clapped her forepaws together.

“Now.” Mirelle poked the dragon’s scrunched up nose. “You were saying?”

“That if I wanted to stare…” Revaramek rubbed himself with a paw and straightened up, still grimacing. “At a beautiful naked female, Nyramyn’s right here! The reason I don’t want you bathing alone is because there could be dangerous things about.” Revaramek gestured with his head towards his mate. “At least let Nyramyn go with you. She’s got the same bits you have, more or less, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Mirelle ran a hand down her face, sighing. “If you weren’t showing genuine concern for my safety, I’d be quite tempted to absolutely nail you one.”

Revaramek snorted. “Thought you just did.”

“Oh, please, I barely tapped them. Remember when we first met?” Mirelle giggled at the way the dragon cringed and groaned in memory. “Thatwas nailing you. Anyway, if you insist, I’ll allow Nyra to tag along.” She glanced at the female dragon, pursing her lips. “At least with her I won’t have to put up with any questions about, why do you have those, and why is there hair there, and-”

“Actually, why is there-”

Mirelle cocked her leg back.

“Alright, alright, truce!” Revaramek leaned onto his tail to protect himself with both forepaws. “Go take your bath so we can get going.” He turned his head, gave Nyramyn a few licks, and then spoke to her in their tongue. She nodded and replied, and started walking back to the water. “She says she found a trail you should be able to follow to the pool, and she’ll keep watch for you.”

“Thank her for me, then? Let me just fetch some clean clothes. I’ll wash the old ones while I’m there, but they’ll need to dry after that.” Mirelle went to pack and pulled out some clothing, glancing back at Revaramek. “Can you ask her if she saw anything dangerous while she was down there? Dangerous to humans, I mean.”

Revaramek translated for her, his ears swiveled towards his mate. Then he shook his head and gave Mirelle a smile. “She says, she doesn’t know what’s dangerous to humans and what isn’t.” His smile faded, and his frills sagged. “That’s not helpful, is it.”

“Not especially.” Mirelle hugged her bundle of clothing to her chest and stepped into her boots. She didn’t bother lacing them, she just wanted to protect her feet on the way to the water. “See you in a bit.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come to keep watch as well?”

“Quite.”

“I promise not to ogle you!”

“The fact you feel the need to make that promise is why you’re staying behind.”

Mirelle followed after Nyramyn towards the water. The female dragon bound ahead of her, leading the way across the grass and broken stone to the small trail cut through the thick, thorny brush that surrounded the creek. Or at least it had been a small trail. Nyramyn barreled through it, flattening down bushes with her forelegs and scything down bushes with her tail and its sharp-edged fins. Mirelle wondered just what sort of creatures had worn the trail into the earth in the first place. She imagined any animals that lived on the edge of the desert had to come to these spring-fed creeks to find water. At least a dragon stomping through the brush meant she wasn’t going to start anything into a defensive strike.

The water’s mineral-rich scent grew stronger as she neared the bend in the creek where the deepest pool was. The smell of mud and rotten vegetation also clung to the air. It reminded Mirelle of the scent that arose from shallow sections of the marsh during long dry spells, when the waters receded a little. As she walked the trail, downed brush crunched underfoot. Pointy fronds like giant, desiccated ferns protruded from the ground here and there. Bushes with layers of thin green leaves and thorns as long as her fingers wrestled one another for places with better access to water. Mirelle watched her footing, afraid such thorns might penetrate her boots. Alongside the water, larger trees with broad, flat canopies helped shade the muddy banks. There were also a few taller pine trees, along with a few junipers, and sagebrush, too. Mirelle had seen such plants in the mountains, and this was probably as close to the desert as they came.

Nyramyn waded out into the waters, and then plopped herself onto her haunches. Ripples rolled away from her and sloshed against the shoreline. A few little fish darted for cover beneath half-submerged reeds. Atop a stump jutting from the water, a turtle with bright red markings on its vaguely-diamond shaped shell watched, impassive. Nyramyn lifted her head on her long neck, gazing around. She spoke something aloud, and even without being able to translate Mirelle imagined it was something akin to, ‘I shall keep watch’. It sounded like something Rev would say, she thought. They fit each other well.

Mirelle draped her clean clothes over some brush, careful not to snag them the thorns. Then she stepped out of her boots, and set them well away from the bank so Nyramyn’s movement wouldn’t splash them. She turned away from the dragon and quickly stripped off her clothes, depositing them at the water’s edge. Mirelle wasn’t sure if Nyra was watching her or not, but it least it was less awkward to be nude around another female than it was a male, dragon or not.

She made her way into the water carefully, feeling around with her feet. The bottom was mostly firm mud, but she didn’t want to accidentally slice her foot open on a sharp rock, or get tangled in anything submerged. The water was cool, but not frigid the way it had been up in the mountains. By the time she was up to her neck in it, her body had adjusted and the temperature was nothing more than a refreshing wake-up for her body. She dunked her head and ran her fingers through her hair, then popped up and wrung it out.

“Oh, damn.” Mirelle glanced back at the trail she’d come through. “Forgot my soap.”

“Arvelgum?”

“I’m sorry.” Mirelle glanced at Nyramyn, offering a sheepish smile. “But I have no idea what you said. I…imagine you’re thinking the same thing. I’ll do without the soap.”

Mirelle washed herself best she could without the soap. She’d bathed it the day before, anyway, and all she had accrued since then was grit and sweet, and both things were easily rinsed away. She rubbed her hands against her skin, dunked her head a few more times, and then fetched her clothes. She pulled them into the water and scrubbed them the best she could. She could rinse the dirt and sweat out, at least. When they were as clean as she could get them, she waded ashore far enough to hang them over the brush, and then returned to the water.

This time she waded closer to Nyramyn. The dragon cocked her head, gazing down at Mirelle. She said something else incomprehensible, and tilted her head the other way. Mirelle scowled, wishing she was quicker at picking up languages. She’d learned a decent smattering of gryphon and urd’thin over the years, and was halfway fluent in Va’chaak now, but she didn’t have enough exposure yet to swamp dragon to pick up on more than oft-repeated syllables.

Mirelle pointed towards Nyramyn’s side. “Can I see?”

Nyramyn looked at herself, then back at Mirelle. “Rak tahshell graglum?”

Mirelle pointed again, speaking louder. “Your wound! I want to see how it looks.”

Nyramyn lifted her foreleg, staring at her scutes. “Darrgor reth satha?”

“No, not dark gore retcha satchel…” Mirelle took a breath, and ran a damp hand down her face. Nyramyn gave her a blank look, her ears splayed in confusion. “Gods, I must sound like the Tea Kettle to her.”

“Taay…kee-till?” Nyramyn splashed her forepaws against the water, laughing. “Klonk klonk!”

“Yes, clank clank, that’s the one.” She shook her head, giggling. Nyramyn couldn’t have seen Knight Commander Elrind in anything but his newer, ceremonial armor, and it fit him well, but she imagined Rev had told her all the stories. “I’m not making a joke though, I want to see your said. Can you show me your wound? Here?”

Mirelle held up an arm, and pointed the area below her own rib cage. Nyramyn only lowered her head and nosed at Mirelle’s side. She sniffed it, and gave her a lick. The feeling made her shiver, and she resisted the urge to smack the dragon’s muzzle away. She pointed to her lower body again, then pointed to the dragon. “Not mine. Yours!”

Finally, Nyramyn seemed to catch on. She sloshed partway out of the water, and then rolled onto her side. Mirelle followed after her, and Nyramyn wriggled partway over to allow Mirelle to see the scar across her belly. After having it cleaned out and stitched up by the city’s healers, it was looking much better. They had taken the stitches out just below they left. Though Mirelle had Revaramek give her very strict instructions, Nyramyn seemed to be as good as her mate at doing everything she was told not too. Mirelle feared she might reopen the wound, but she was glad to see it remained knit tightly shut.

When Mirelle reached towards the dragon, Nyramyn gave a warning growl. Mirelle withdrew her hands. “Alright, alright. I know it’s still tender, I just wanted to inspect it. We’ll have to go with, still closed, and call that good progress.” Mirelle backed away, and bowed her head to the dragon. “On the same note, I’m willing to call myself clean. Hopefully if we find this oasis it’ll be safe to bathe in, and I can use my soap, again.”

Mirelle waded back down the shoreline towards her dry clothes to give Nyramyn room to roll over. While she waited for the air to dry her skin a little, she wrung her damp clothes out, not wanting them to be too wet before she packed them away. Once she was halfway dry, she dressed in a golden blouse, with the city’s emblems at her shoulders, and dark gray breeches with black stitching. She pulled her boots on, laced them up, and waited for Nyramyn to lead the way back to their camp.

No sooner had they cleared the brush than Nyramyn broke into a bounding sprint. For a moment, Mirelle’s breath caught in her throat, afraid the dragon had spotted some threat. Or perhaps more likely, that Revaramek had somehow caught himself on fire. It turned out to be neither. Instead, Nyra just suddenly decided to pounce her unsuspecting mate.

Revaramek was busy cleaning fish scales off his muzzle when Nyramyn sprang into him. He yelped in surprise and toppled across the ground with Nyramyn, yowling. Mirelle laughed, shaking her head. She thought it a wonder they didn’t break each other’s limbs or wings when they roughhoused like that. By the time Mirelle reached the camp, both dragons were wrestling, snarling and snapping their jaws at one another. If Mirelle didn’t know better, she might have thought them fighting. But Mirelle had witnessed a real fight between dragons, years ago, and it was far uglier than this one.

Mirelle kept an eye on the two scaly lovers and their play-quarrel while she packed up her clothes. They battled back and forth, trying to pin the other, sometimes biting or clawing, but never hard enough to break through scales. Nyramyn almost pinned Rev, licked his nose, and then he managed to free himself and push her over, instead. He almost had her pinned, but took the opportunity to lick her throat, and when she was done shivering, she twisted free and pounced him once more.

“Don’t you two get too amorous!” Mirelle stowed her clothes away, and gathered up her bedroll. “As Rev’s so fond of reminding me, we don’t have time for sex.” Mirelle blinked, and immediately realized what she said. “Wait, that didn’t come out right!”

“Is what she said!” Revaramek cackled. “You’re right, Mirelle, you and I don’t have time for sex! Besides, I’d have to ask Nyramyn. Oh, maybe she’d want to watch!”

“Shut up, Rev.” Mirelle tied her bedroll up, shaking her head.

“Wait, let me ask her!” Rev managed to get Nyra onto her back, and this time, he pinned her. He beamed down at the squirming female dragon, standing over her. “Do we have time for sex, Nyra? Mirelle wants too, and-”

“Get him in the balls, Nyra!” Mirelle laughed at the dirty look Rev gave her as she secured her bedroll to her pack.

“Mirelle! I’ll not have you instructing her on your bad habits! Thankfully, she doesn’t even know what you’re saying.” Revaramek grinned down at his mate. “Do you love?”

Nyramyn only glared at him, and gave a threatening growl.

“I dunno, Rev, I don’t think she likes you lording your victory over her. And, think she’s starting to know that word. In the balls, Nyra!” Mirelle patted herself as if to indicate where to aim, then pointed. “Get him in the balls!”

“Lording my victory over her is half the fun! She’d do the same in my place.” Revaramek tossed his head. “Now stop telling her to do that, even if she understood, she knows it’s against the rules, and-”

Nyramyn buried her hind paw right between Revaramek’s hind legs.

“AWWRRHOOOOHHH!” Revaramek’s frills shot to full extension, and his bronze eyes popped out so far Mirelle half expected them to roll away down his muzzle.

“Ahahaha, she nailed you!” Mirelle clapped her hands, laughing. “Good one, Nyra, good one!”

For a few moments, Rev just stood there above his mate, bug-eyed and with his muzzle hanging open, and his hind legs shaking. Gradually, his bronze eyes rolled back, his ears flattened, and a long, low groan crept up his throat. “Oooooohhhhhhh!” Finally, he crumpled, falling off his pinned mate and curling up alongside her with a second groan. “Awwwwwwhhhhhhhh!”

Nyramyn popped to her feet in an instant, bouncing around him, laughing the whole time.

“Hahaha, did you see his face?” Mirelle’s laughter only grew, fueled by the female dragon’s. “Rev, that might have been the most shocked I’ve ever seen you to get hit there!”

“It was the most shocked!” Rev’s voice was a decided octave above its usual brassy tone. “She’s…awwhh…never done that…uhhnn…before!”

“Then here’s to that being the first of many!” Mirelle fetched her knife and cut away a few red fruits from some nearby cactus. “If I was you, I’d stop rubbing it in when you pin her, from now on.”

“Or…uuhhh…pin her…on her belly!”

“Then she could just get you with her tail.” Mirelle put her knife away, then dragged her pack closer to the two dragons, and flopped down on it, using it for a seat. “Looks like we’ll be here a little while longer, so I may as well get comfortable.”

Revaramek rolled around on the rock-strewn grass, clutching himself in both forepaws. His whole muzzle was crinkled up, his eyes squeezed half shut. He pedaled his hind paws in the air a few times, then rubbed his back legs together, and beat his wings. “Uuhhhh. Gods! My baaaaalls!”

Mirelle waved her hand. “Yes, yes, Rev, we all know what she struck. You needn’t tell us about them. Besides, by dragon standards I suspect that was little more than a love tap.”

“That’s not…” Revaramek rolled the other way. “Awwwhhhh, how they aaache!”

“Heard that one before, too.” Mirelle peeled her fruit and took another bite. “You’re going to have to think of something else to say.”

Nyramyn bounced around her mate a few more times, still laughing. Then she came to a stop alongside him, and nudged him over onto his side. After that, she flopped down atop him, and as far as Mirelle could tell, made a big show of declaring herself the winner. Rev grumbled, but seemed to relent, and soon Nyra was gently licking his neck again.

“See Rev? She still loves you.”

Rev coughed, and returned Nyra’s lick, then cast a dirty look towards Mirelle. “Tell that to my balls!”

“Well, you could ask her to, but it might not be the best time.” She waved her knife at him, giggling. “You said yourself, we’re on a schedule.”

Revaramek groaned, and heaved a heavy sigh. “Shut up, Mirelle.”

*****
Chapter One Hundred Eleven
*****

The First Chief knew peace with his great tribe for five more years. Early on, he pondered what he perceived, through the doorway. It perplexed him. The place he saw was both familiar, and unfamiliar. It stirred his memories, and he vaguely recalled visiting there, long ago. Only, things seemed slightly different. It was as if they somehow came from a place that was both the same, and different, from the world he was visited. Were they somehow coming from a different time? A different world? A different timeline? It was as if the gates they built were not just punching holes between worlds, but times and existences, as well, while they remained ignorant of it. He doubted he could understand it while a mortal, and so he gave up trying.

Instead, he spent the peaceful years savoring his mortal life. Every taste, every scent, every sensation was a delight. His friendships with Mica and her family deepened, as did those with others. Though he took no mate, as if the entire tribe became his family, instead. He drank with their elders, sparred with their warriors in training, played with their children. He taught them to use their shaping in new and unexpected ways, helped the strongest of the pups harness their abilities and understand what they were capable of, as well as why they had limitations.

The majority of the tribe settled around the desert’s largest oasis. There, he built himself a house with his own hands. Though the others offered to help him, he wished to do the work himself. He cut down the trees for the wood, he wove the lattice work, he mixed the wet sand and clay, and daubed it across his frame. He bound and thatched reed for his roof. When his home was complete, he was all the more satisfied with it because he had built it himself.

For those years, the tribe thrived and grew. It expanded, and some members went to other villages, to help them grow as well. Once they had achieved a stable, prosperous population, it was time for them to complete their duty. It was time for them to bring the world back to life. The first gathered the strongest among them, and showed them to use their shaping to turn dead earth into rich sand. And how to turn sand into mud, filled with nutrients, where they could plant reeds, and trees.

He did not want them to be to solve all their problems with shaping, for he wanted them to have a rewarding life, not an easy one. The First taught them that by digging channels with their shaping, they could use one spring-fed oasis to fill another. That way, they could build themselves fresh oases, further in the desert. Rain would fill some, and springs would fill others. But as long as they were careful, they would have water even through the driest of seasons. The strongest shaper among them was a young female, and he taught her and her alone how to use her shaping to birth clouds in the sky, and to create rain. He made it clear to her that this was a power just like Mica’s healing, that it should only be used when there was no alternative. By then all the tribe believed wholeheartedly in Mica’s teaching, and feared the punishment of the gods, should they overuse their powers. In the future, it would be up to the next generation, the powerful pups like her, to decide who to pass on their knowledge too.

By the time his perception tingled again, when next he knew something was wrong with his world, The First Chief had only one duty left among his people. All he had left to offer them now, was inspiration. He had hoped to have more time with them, more life to live with his beloved people, but such was the fragile way of mortals. They had to cherish each day, each moment, because at any time, the next could be their last.

When the humans next returned, they did so once more, far from his location. This time, they came prepared. They brought far more of their kind, and with them, they brought strange beasts and stranger devices. Just like him, they had visited many worlds, but where he only observed, they conquered, they enslaved, they colonized. This time, they came astride dragons, proud people bent to the will of those who once called him a god. He brushed them with his understanding, and found that they dared to name themelves after him. They deigned to call themselves The Storytellers, and it infuriated him.

This was not their tale to tell, nor their world to control, and it never would be.

The humans arrived near one of the smaller tribal villages. In no time at all, they captured several of its members, and retreated through their hole in the veil. Though The First did not wish to allow it, he could not reveal his godhood to his people. If they knew, they would grow to rely upon him, and then the story would be his, not theirs. No, they had to overcome, and defeat this evil on their own, and then?

Then, at last, would the urd’thin truly have their own story to tell.

He took Mica aside and told her most of what was happening. Then he let her speak the words of the gods to her people. That some of Those Who Came Before yet lingered, far beyond their desert, and had returned to reclaim it from the shapers. But the shapers had the gods on their side, and the shapers would not forfeit their land, their home, their people. Not to anyone, least of all those who had brought such ruination upon their world. It was their duty, their sacred duty, to defend their tribes, and to defend their desert.

So the great, unified tribe marched across the desert with its best warriors, and its most powerful shapes. They marched with drums, and pipes and song, and they played song that The First taught them. The same song the stars once sang to him, in ages long past. From tribal village to tribal village they marched, gathering more warriors, more shapers, until they had an army the likes of which their desert had never known.

When at last they had nearly reached the place where he knew battle would be waged, they set up camp. They paused just before a range of towering, wind-sculpted dunes. Beyond the dunes, their foes awaited. Without letting anyone know, The First shrouded them from their enemies so that they could not be sensed, not even by shaping. They ate, and spoke of battle, of fears and nervousness. None of them had known true war before, not even their greatest warriors. And never had they faced down foes who also could shape, just as they could. Their fear was natural, and expected, and if given a chance, it could cripple them. But The First Chief would not let that happen. At night, beneath the stars, he led Mica out onto a dune, away from the camp.

Though he had many things to tell her, the words would not come. Each time he tried to explain what was going to happen, each time he opened his muzzle, he only closed it again, unable to make the smallest sound. He sighed and hung his head, and instead, only leaned against Mica. She put an arm around him, hugged him, and when he heard her sniffle, he realized she already knew.

The First was going to die, tomorrow, and this time, his death would be real.

Mica sniffed again, hugging him tighter. “You’re…you’re not coming back after this, are you?”

“No.” He shook his head, fighting back a sniffle of his own. “This…this has to be…the end, for me. They…they must see me die. It’s the only way they’ll know.”

“Know what?”

“That they’re strong enough.” He swallowed hard, tilting his head back to stare up into her eyes. Fear, pain, and hope all swirled together amidst the stars reflected there. “I need your help, Mica.”

“Of course. Anything! Wh-what do you need me to do?”

“Lead them!” The First nuzzled against her neck, ruffling his fur with his muzzle. “You have to show them how strong they are. When I fall…and I will…you have to lead them into battle. You have to make it clear that this is their land, their story! They are stronger than they know, they are strong enough to heal this ruined world, and it is time they understand that. They have to understand that while the gods watch over them, they need not rely upon the gods to live their lives. They can protect themselves. They willprotect themselves, no matter what they face. This world, this…story.” The First waved his hand at the desert around them. “I built this all for you. For them. For…for our people. And tomorrow, when…when my story ends, you make sure they understand that their story is only just beginning.”

Mica gave a slow, solemn nod. She set her hand on his head, and gently stroked one of his ears. “Why…why can’t just…wipe them out? Like you did before?”

The First was taken aback. He flattened his ears, his voice soft. “Is that what you think happened?”

“I…I don’t really know, anymore. It’s been…a very long time, since you first showed me the truth.”

“They wiped themselves out.” The First shook his head, sighing. “If I did that, now…then they would know. If…if they know the gods aren’t just real, but…among them, what would happen to their sense of self? You asked for the truth, and I knew you were strong enough to handle it, but not every is. They would come to rely on me. What use is there for their own strength, their own hard work, if all they ever need to do is ask he god for help? Why learn to cherish water, to cherish the rains, if they only ever need ask the god to birth a storm? You refuse to heal their simple wounds and maladies, because you know in your heart, if you do, they will only grow to rely upon you. They will ask and ask for more and more, and if you do not give it, then one day they will ask with their fists, with their knives.”

“A lot of good that would do them to ask you that way.” Mica chuckled, reaching back to ruffle the fur of his tail. “But…I know what you mean.”

“What value do their choices have, if a god overrides them? Where is their free will, if they can simply ask me to fix their mistakes? This was meant to be your story, Mica, a story for urd’thin, a place where they mattered. I’ve seen…so many of them, stepped on, trampled, bound by collar and chain. And think about it…if here, in this place, they came to rely upon me, to reply upon a god? Then they have no more free will here than anywhere else. If everything they do, if their lives and their deaths, rely upon me?” He patted his chest, and let out a soft, drawn out sigh. “Then they’re no more free here than anywhere else. Reliance upon a god for survival may be a quiet sort of slavery, but it is slavery just the same. Their choices must be theirs, for better, or worse.”

“You’ve…you’ve seen other urd’thin?” Mica laughed, shaking her head. She leaned back, with her palms against the sand. “I thought I dreamt that part. Sometimes I can’t…I can’t quite remember what you showed me, and what I made up, which is real, and which the story.”

“Such is the way with history, Mica. Memories…are not always the truth. Perception changes the way we experience our lives. The stories we tell, the experiences we share, they shape us. You…” He leaned into her touch when she stroked his ears again, smiling and savoring the soft comfort. “Your stories have shaped me, and they have shaped your people. It doesn’t matter, anymore, what really happened to this place. All that matters is what our people believe happened, and your stories are that belief. Stories shape our lives, Mica. After tomorrow, you will tell another. Where our people rose up, and pushed back against Those Who Came Before. And you will remember that story, if they come back, and you will know, that no matter, you can always beat them. You will always beat them. Let my sacrifice be the story that shapes us all into something greater.”

“As you wish it, then.”

“I know it will be…difficult.” The First lifted his hand, and set it upon hers. He twined his fingers with Mica’s, and gave them a gentle squeeze. “But…I fear I have dwelled among you too long, as it is. You told me once, you never thought I’d stay here this long, and neither did I. And yet…the longer I linger, the more I want to stay. The more I care about you all…the less I want to let you die, someday. And yet…I know you must someday pass from this world, to whatever lies beyond it. But I feel it, I have…” With his free hand, he scooped sand and let it run between his fingers. “Felt it, stronger and stronger. The desire to save you when I know I should not. And maybe I’ve even done so. It’s…only right, that…that I be the first among our tribe to die. So…let my death be meaningful. Let it matter.”

Mica gave a slow nod, then whimpered. She leaned in to press her muzzle to his neck, squeezing her eyes shut. “It will. I promise you, it will.”

“Thank you, Mica.” The First stroked her ears, as she had done for him.

“There’s…never been anything you should have to thank me for.” She eased back from him, her dark eyes widening. Reflected stars glimmered in tears yet unshed. “But I have so much to thank you for.”

“You need not-”

“I do! I…I know in some way you’ll…you’ll still be there…” She glanced up at the night sky, whining. “Watching…over us, but…it’s not the same. It’s not the same. So I want…I want to-”

“You don’t have to say anything. I already know.”

“That’s not the point!” Mica bared her fangs, growling at him. “All these years, living among us, as one of us, and you still don’t understand us. Just let me talk, alright?”

The First gave a single nod.

Mica’s snarl eased, replaced by a haunted sort of sorrow that drifted just behind her eyes, like dark clouds shrouding the moon. She shifted to her knees, and turned to face him. Slowly, Mica lifted trembling hands, and cupped The First’s muzzle. She stared into his eyes, and tears left dark, wet streaks down the fur of her face.

“Thank you,” Mica said, her voice little more than a broken whisper. “Thank you for giving me life. For giving…all of us life. Thank you, for…for showing me the truth, when I was but days old. Looking back, I see…you had no reason to believe in me, no reason to believe I would be strong enough to burden of such terrible, terrifying knowledge. There are still days, when I feel…unbearably insignificant. To be the first of…of all of us, to know that…if our tiny tribe was…if I led us astray, then that would be the end of us. But you…you believed in me. You believedin me, and for that, I will always be grateful. So thank you for believing in me. For…for weaving me into this…beautiful experiment, and for reasons I’ll never fathom…for letting me weave it with you. When you are gone, and I am old, if I should so lucky as to ever beold. When I take my last breaths, and look back at my life, I will…tremble, in awe, at what I accomplished. I will…smile, and greet the end happily, knowing that…I helped to shape an entire people, that…I helped you…make all this.” She pulled a hand away from his muzzle long enough to gesture at the tribe, in the distance. Then she held him gently between both hands again. “We have become a beautiful star, in a dark, empty sky, and I shall ever be grateful to you, not just for making me a part of that light…but letting me be the one to stand at your side, and shine that light with you. Whatever happens to us when you’re gone, our story is already beautiful. So…so thank you, for telling it.”

For long, silent moments, The First just stared back at her in awe. What could he ever say in return to that? You’re welcome? What words could possibly do her heartful gratitude justice? Instead, he lifted his hands, and cupped her muzzle as she did for him. The First leaned forward, and pressed his muzzle to her nose in a gentle, loving kiss.

“You are everything I ever hoped to see in our people, Mica. You are more than I ever imagined, when first I dared to dream of a place for us to be special, for us to be…important.” He pulled back just enough to look her over, smiling. “And…that is how I think of us, now. Not…your people, not you…but our people, us. Whatever…whatever I was, before, has changed. And that change comes from you, and from this…grand story we’ve woven together. I see myself as…as one of you, now. Whatever god I was before, I am no longer. When I die, tomorrow, when I let my vessel end, I will be a God of Urd’thin, now. One of your own to watch over you. So thank you, Mica…for showing me my purpose.”

Through her tears, Mica managed a soft, bittersweet laugh. “Least I could do.”

“You are right, of course. This story is beautiful. And after tomorrow?” The First swallowed. His throat kept tightening up, and it was harder and harder to force words across his parched tongue. “The story is yours to tell. And I know…I know you’ll tell it right.”

“I’ll do my best.” Mica chocked back a sob. She slipped her hands around his neck, twining her fingers through the thick, soft fur there. “Before…before we go back. Would you…lay here, at my side? And watch the stars a while with me?”

“I’d like nothing better, Mica.”

The First eased onto his back, made himself comfortable against the sand. Mica rolled over, and laid next to him. Her hand found his, and soon their fingers twined. There were no more words to say, only company and silent comfort to share. For the last time, in his mortal life, The First watched the stars.

He could not imagine a more beautiful end to his story.