Kingdoms of Ohm: The Lonely Dragon #1 ✓

Bittersweet Memories

"Ah, ow! Careful!"

"I am being careful! Just stay still!" came the frantic growl of a dragoness as she continued to lick my scales. Through the growls and hisses of twisted pain, I could only manage a pitiful whine back to her and tense my draconic muscles, holding on for dear life.

For the mythical creatures of Ohm, the art of grooming was a universal act of love. It not only aimed to clean the grime and filth that filled one's scales when Ohm's rivers failed to remove it, but connected the few that thrived together -- like parents to hatchlings. As mates, Nayre and I cleaned each other for the sake of bondage throughout the colder seasons, enjoying each other's scents and the warmth we gave off.

However, this day was an exception.

Rather than lick away grass, dirt, or even snow for the sake of pleasure, Nayre was forced to lick away the ruins of my scarred body: spilled blood and slashed scales.

Kantar probably blamed my arrogance for part of that misfortune.

Around the early start of the day, when the golden sun of Ohm was at its highest, a rogue pack of feathered beasts -- named griffins -- attacked one of our youngsters in the forests of Jorryn. I was lucky enough to be there at the right time, charging in from the skies, but right into an unwinnable fight. Unnumbered three to one, I was left to fend for myself, alone in the shadows with birds who sought fresh meat. Despite carrying a roar that could shake the very mountain itself, I took the risk to face the threat on my own, with nothing to save me. Claws soon struck talons, beaks pierced fangs, and feathers and scales were ripped clean from one another's hides, drenching the scorched ground with blood.

In the end I survived, which was a surprise on it's own. But all of that luck came at a painful cost.

I fear the worst thing I could've done was return home only to collapse in front of my mate with a bone-chilling thud.

Now I gritted my fangs under the pressure of touch, watching Nayre groom my every injury from the earlier battle. Her sharp pink tongue slowly stroked over the crimson wounds, sending shivers of weakness across my bruised bones like hellfire. And the longer she tended to me, the more her snout trickled with the color of dragon blood, a stench that made both our stomachs writhe with concern.

"Those wretched griffins... Ngh... put up quite... the fight!" I wheezed to her, digging my claws into the ground as the anguish worsened. "I underestimated... Rrr... their prowess..."

"Oh," Nayre blinked, raising her scaled brow upward. "Did you?"

"I'm afraid so. I've never... Rrr... seen them fly like that... before, Ah!" I yelped, curling my claws into the rocks again, then relaxed once the feeling surpassed. "Even if I won in the end... they still hurt me. Had I not clipped their wings sooner I... I could've been killed."

"You fought them three on one," Nayre muttered softly, her eyes beginning to narrow in annoyance. "There were no odds in your favor."

"So?"

"So?!" Nayre echoed with a growl. "That's all you have to say?"

"What do you mean? I had no other choice! They would've killed those hatchlings had I not been scouring around for help when none would come in time!"

"You could've died, Vaanku!"

"Isn't that our job, Nayre?!"

Nayre flinched backward from my sudden snarl, lowering her head down without another word.