People of the Dragons: Last of the Kind *Teaser*

       Breathe. If I could just get a breath, maybe I could live. Maybe I could fight. If sweet oxygen could fill my lungs, nourish my blood, relieve my body of the carbon dioxide building up in it; I might make it. How long had I been under the water? Seconds? Minutes? Would I breath in without control of my body? Maybe a unconscious part of my brain would take control and I would suck in with hopes of thin air reaching my lungs but instead be greeted by the dark waters that surrounded me. The hand at the back of my neck still applied the same pressure; constant, heavy. I had given up the fight long ago. Thrashing and writhing, my every muscle tense with the panic of suffocation, I had fought. Now, a peace had come about me. Though my lungs burned for air and though my head spun with fears of death, the rest of my body had stilled.



      My eyes still open, I was conscious to see the peace shattered. Arrows shot through the water around me, one grazing my left thigh. It sent a shock of fierce pain up my skin and again the writhing began. This time though, there was no pressure I had to fight against. My head shot out of the water and I finally allowed my body to suck in what it had so longed for. I couldn't properly stand and fell backward onto dry land after some stumbling. My black hair fell over my face, sticking to my cheeks and forehead as though it was a twisted marking across my skin. The dirt stuck to me as I sat there, shakily breathing in the sweet hair. It had never been sweeter. My whole body was quivering with the effort of sitting up and my golden eyes flicked back and forth as though they thought they might find some explanation for my body's distress.
      I was wounded. I was exhausted. I was vulnerable. The scarlet of my blood had stained my white gown to the point where it looked like a blooming rose on my thigh. I had the sense to look around for who had shot the arrows and for my earlier oppressor. The swamp land appeared bare, steam softly rising from the mud as the hot sun baked it. There was a cliff straight ahead of me, rising up defiantly against the barren scene. There was no one at the top of the gorge, but I figured that's where the arrows had come from, considering the angle. I located my oppressor, and found my heart leap to my throat. The heavily built man layed only inches from me, his eyes wide with a frozen expression of horror. Through his platted chest were two arrows, one striking just bellow the other which had landed in his heart. Blood pooled about his body and stained his dark clothing.
       With unsteady limbs, I crawled away from him, a soft moan emerging from my lips. I couldn't see anyone else, but could hear the whistle of arrows, the creak of catapults, the clank of swords. I don't know what it was, the exhaustion over coming my limbs, my fear of death, or the overwhelming flush of adrenaline coursing through my veins, but a darkness over came me and I fell back onto the soft earth.

***

         "Is she dead?"

          "No, not entirely at least..."

          "Surely her kind can't die. They're supposed to be immortal!"

          "Strong, yes. Immortal, no. She's wounded, traumatized, and confused but will live."

          It took some struggle to open my eyes. The light in the room was so bright I had to blink a few times to adjust. I was laying on a soft canopy of moss. I was surprised to find the source of the white light. Electricity bounced back and forth rapidly in blue tinted glass cylinders. The cylinders were placed erratically around the small, as far as I could tell, cabin. I tried to sit up, but felt wrappings on my arms and legs, constricting me to the nest. Immediately, my drowsiness lifted and a panic set in. With clenched fists, I writhed and fought to free myself from the vine like strands. A soft wail rose from my throat.

          "Those are only in case you decided to attack me while I was healing you." A voice spoke from across the room. I froze, swinging my head to the sound and clenching my teeth. It was a small old man sitting on a short wooden chair in the corner of the room. His eyes were white with only the slightest impression of a pupil. His wispy hairs were hardly visible on his head, but his beard was full. A sage. They weren't known to be violent or dangerous in any way yet I couldn't let my guard down.

          "You healed me? Where am I? Untie me!" I snapped, my golden eyes wide as the full moon outside. The sage stood stiffly, hobbled over to me and used a small knife to slice the vines. I sat bolt upright, towering over the little man. My fists were clenched and my muscles were tense with a readiness to defend. The little man's pale eyes flashed with fear, but he kept his ground.

          "Your leg was cut. Deeply. I cleaned it and bandaged it. You also had quite a panic so I lit some lavender incense to calm you down." He looked me up and down, pursing his lips with raised brows as he hobbled back to his table. "But I see it hardly helped you. You're going to get a ulcer being so jumpy, young one." I grew aware of the heavy scent in the room. Soft wisps of smoke gathered at the ceiling. With less fear of the situation, I decided it safe to take in the details of the room. It was rather small and short, which cause a sense of claustrophobia to grip my chest, with only a small table, chair, and the canopy I was in as furnishings. The walls were lined with shelves that held many different jars and wrappings with faded labels marking their medical contents. My eyes still trailed over the electricity filled cylinders.

          "Do you like them?" The sage had followed my gaze. "A young wizard decided be my Apprentice not long ago. He wanted to light up the place, candles just weren't doing the job." I looked at him plainly. A wizard? There weren't many wizards around anymore, not after the hunters efforts in genocide in that species.

          "Am I completely healed?" I didn't want small talk. With careful movements, I tested out my limbs and assessed the damage. My thigh throbbed when I moved it, even slightly and my head felt dizzy. The sage raised a hand to still my movements.

          "You will need some days of rest. Don't worry, you are safe here. We are underground, the only place the hunters wont go." He looked toward the exit, making me finally see a staircase leading up to a small door that was parallel with the ceiling. I didn't want to rest. My adrenaline had kicked up again and it was all I could do to stop myself from moving despite the pain. The sage's pale eyes filled with sympathy.

          "I know it is hard for your kind to be cooped up like this. Especially when you feel threatened, but trust me when I say you'll heal quickly. It is in your species to heal quickly." I held his gaze for a moment, listening to his words carefully. He's right. It never took me long to heal. Sometimes wounds would leave over night, depending on their intensity. I leaned back into the soft moss, focusing my thoughts on resting instead of running. I realized my white gown was no longer on me. It had been replaced with dark gray pants that came to mid shin and a dusky brown shirt that came just past the pants waist line. It was made out of fur of some kind, I didn't question it. I would rest here, but the moment I was strong enough it would be time to go. I can never stop moving. I can never stop running, fighting. They're after me and I'm running out of places to go. I am the last of my kind.