Dragon Dreams

Chapter 18: Uncontrollable Forces: (3/3)

I slipped into something of a trance, the reasonable thoughts unable to swim to the surface of my chaotic brain. Taken over by an impulse, I started brutally slashing a small tree into splintered rubble. That made me feel a little better—somewhere deep inside, I took pleasure in seeing the raw power I could wield when I wanted to. I turned my back on what was left of the sapling and walked on all fours in no particular direction. If a rotten log or tangle of ferns blocked my path, my claws removed the obstacle without mercy. "Not so powerless now," I thought. "Out here, I own this forest. I rule this territory."

Sauntering in and out of the late-morning shadows, I felt so much better. It was just me, alone. Not a single creature in these woods could challenge me. I had completely forgotten about my past life and the unfairness of it all; I forgot about feeling low. Now, I was on top. That seemed fair to me, and there was no other way of looking at it.

I sniffed the air, tasted it, and snapped my head around. Out of all the scents that filtered through my subconscious, one demanded my attention. Instinct immediately flagged it as a target. There was prey nearby. I still couldn't see it, but my silent footsteps led me confidently through the foliage. The draconic instincts were fully in control, and I embraced them. This was my territory, and I was going to assert my dominance over any creature beneath me. The likely outcome: I had just found my next meal.

A thick cluster of ferns concealed me as I stopped for a moment to taste the air again. I was so close. The sounds told me that as well. I could hear sniffling and the munching of plants. Inching my head out of my cover to investigate, I saw a tawny buck standing a short distance away. It faced away from me with its head down, antlers swaying as it browsed for food.

Things moved quickly from there. I guess my predator's brain decided I was close enough to pounce, because I was almost surprised to find myself in midair, lunging for the deer. I had been correct in my decision—the animal hardly had time to turn its head and let out a bellow before I landed on top of it. It went down easily, and I soon silenced its annoying cries with a bite to the neck. I imagined I could hear its heartbeat slow until it went completely still. Maybe I actually could hear it, but it didn't matter. Stepping off of the body, I admired the success of my hunt hungrily. But I didn't look for long.

I ripped into the deer with primal satisfaction. Tearing through the tender underbelly, I ignored the spurts of blood that sprayed my face, neck, and chest as I sank my teeth into the squishy viscera within. The organs were slimy and coated with gore and connective tissue, but that just made them slide down my throat easier. I barely took time to breathe during my feeding frenzy, pulling and tearing every edible part from the animal's midsection. The heart and liver were my last treats as I pulled my head out and licked my lips thoroughly to clean off the hot blood.

There was something in my mind telling me this was wrong. But it was a whisper compared to the rage that twisted at my gut. My clouded thoughts couldn't make sense of I was doing anymore. I was running on instinct, and it felt natural to be sitting next to a fresh kill, licking my chops and drinking in the scent of my prey's blood in my nose. One thing I knew for sure was I couldn't eat another bite of the deer. My stomach was bursting, and I felt like I wouldn't have to eat for days. It was a shame there were no other dragons in my hunting pack to share my kill with. It was just me.

Leaving the carcass behind, I padded through the undergrowth. The midday humidity made the air thick and sticky. The pleasant sound of a nearby waterfall drew me closer until I stopped beside the swirling water with a huff of satisfaction. Craving the coolness of the stream, I didn't hesitate before leaping into the pool beneath the falls. Swimming up to the cascade, I stuck my muzzle in and drank freely. When I finished, I looked down at the churning foam beneath the small waterfall to see swirls of pink coloring the water. I knew it had to be blood.

I couldn't ignore the spots of red blossoming on the pool's surface as the water poured over me. Seeing this finally started to eat away at the grip my instincts held over me. I felt like I was defiling a sacred space with the pollution of violence. This waterfall was the same one I had stumbled upon while exploring a while back. My stomach turned as I started to remember the joy I felt when I discovered this place. One of the hidden treasures of the forest.

The red stains kept washing off my scales. It seemed like the color was draining from my body. How could there be this much blood? There was so much red in the water that I expected to see my scales turn white. I started rubbing my face with my paws, trying to scrub the blood away. The more I thought about it coating my body and seeping into every crevice of my scales, the more it sickened me. I turned my attention to my forelegs and chest, vigorously trying to remove any traces of gore. Ducking under the water, I tried to bathe myself fully. Over and over, I rose above the surface of the pool and dove back in, getting more desperate as I tried to wash myself clean.

But I couldn't do it. My tireless efforts always seemed to reveal more blood each time I rinsed off. I scrubbed until the pads on my paws were raw and starting to blister. Then I scraped my claws mercilessly across my hide until scales started to chip and slough off completely. As much as I tried, I couldn't rid myself of this unclean feeling. It felt impossible to erase the last vestiges of my feral deeds. The pain was the only thing that stopped me. I needed to feel the pain to reclaim my mind from the predatory urges that now disgusted me.

Pulling myself from the water, I lay next to the stream, trying to clear my head. My rational abilities had returned, and I needed some time to process things. The adrenaline from the hunt had waned, leaving me feeling shaky all over. I shut my eyes tight and whispered things to myself. Names, memories, anything. I tried to let the sound of the waterfall bring me peace.

"Think about Alex, your sister, how she always has your back," I recalled. "Think about Mom and Dad. About Roderick and...no, something else. Think about Wes and Jackie and French toast and flying under the stars." A few minutes of this brought me back completely. I opened my eyes and felt...well, I felt like me again. The anger and cold-blooded killing were surreal and distant; it all seemed like a bad dream.

A fluttering in the periphery attracted my attention. I swung my head around to see a raven perched in a nearby tree. It cocked its head and looked at me with expressionless eyes. Hopping a few times along the branch, the bird issued several loud caws. Unnerved by its presence, I opened my wings threateningly and roared. My scare tactic worked, and the black shape tumbled from the tree before retreating into the thick, shadowy forest. It's cackling calls echoed for a few final moments until they too were swallowed by the breath of nature.

"Time to go back," I thought. "If I stay out here I could just do more damage and make them even more worried than they probably are." So I wobbled to my feet and started walking back to the house, ignoring the dull pain from my abraded footpads. I hoped some satisfactory explanation would come to me, anything to convince them that everything was fine. But the blood would say otherwise. The blood staining the earth and running through the water. The blood clinging to my scales and sloshing in my stomach. The blood would say otherwise. 

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