A Dragon Mother's Worry

A Mother's Worry

Sankarran smiled to herself as she watched her mate give every indication of rapt attention as their son chattered away at breakneck speed. She had already heard the tale of how Solan had tracked a fat squirrel all the way across the nearby meadow back to its home tree with out being seen. Oh, yes... Three times in as many hours! And while she was proud of her son's accomplishment she was still glad when Mirroth's shadow pass overhead indicating his return from flying the bounds of their territory.

Solan was midway through his third summer and growing fast. And though he was far from a shining example of draconic grace he was starting to get old enough for short romps on his own. His parents were still careful to make certain he did not wander so far from the lair that one of them could not keep a close mental "eye" on him. Although rare, it was not unheard of for desperate and hungry predators to attempt making a meal out of an awkward, unattended Dragon-child.

But animal predators were not really what occupied Sankarran's thoughts as she watched her son and his father. Of greater concern was the possibility that some mortal fool with more courage than sense would attempt to snatch a trusting hatchling who had wandered too far from home, or whose parents were incautious enough not to be watching over their child. The Dragonlands were bordered on one side by the hunting territories of mountain trolls and on another by land controlled by goblin tribes, and occasionally one or the other would venture into the Dragonlands with vile intentions. Even now, the mere thought of such an intrusion was enough to cause emerald fire to flash in Sankarran's eyes. And as she watched the excited gestures Solan was using to emphasize various points of his tale, Sankarran forced herself to contemplate the dread possibility of just such threats to the safety and security of her small family.

Are you alright, dear heart? Mirroth's mind voice sounded gently in her thoughts even though his eyes never left the beaming face of their son.

Yes, my love. I'm fine. Just thinking about all possibilities for the future... some less pleasant than others," she returned with mindspeech of her own. She then smiled again and sent to her mate "You know we only have a few more seasons at best before we have to be as careful with mindspeech as we are with normal speech around Solan. Soon he will be able to hear all that is not deliberately shielded."

Rather than answer her directly, Mirroth sent a wave of affection back to his mate before turning his attention fully to his son once again. Sankarran watched them for another moment before returning to darker thoughts.

Trolls were the lesser of the two evils that could befall a hapless Dragon-child. While larger and stronger than goblins, they were barely intelligent enough to be considered other than clever animals. And their interest in catching a Dragon-child was at least an honest (if disgusting) one: food. Even a small Dragon such as Solan could provide enough meat to feed a troll family for several weeks.

Goblins on the other talon were altogether a different matter. Intelligent and crafty, goblins were also wholly evil. Their interest in capturing a hatchling was as vile and loathsome as the goblins themselves: sacrifice. Once each year the demons the goblins worshipped as gods would demand the life's blood of a creature born of magic to renew their own power and strength. Most often is was the rather defenseless forest fairies which would be captured in whole groups and fed to the goblin "gods." Occasionally a particularly clever chieftain would succeed in capturing larger prey such as an Elf, or Unicorn, or even a Gryphon. But every once in a while several tribes would band together at the urging of their demon gods and and launch a stealthy invasion of the Dragonlands in search of a greater prize.

Young Dragons less than five summers old lacked the strength to escape a goblin trap sprung on them if they were on the ground, and they lacked the skill and agility to evade a net flung at them if they were in the air. Once captured there was little a hatchling could do to defend itself. They were too young to breath fire, and what magical abilities they possessed would not be strong enough to prevail against that of the goblin priests. Add in the limited range of a hatchling's mindspeech and a young Dragon could find itself in dire straights indeed. The hatchling would quickly be wrapped in mystical bindings that would leave the child totally immobile... and totally aware of its fate. And when all was in readiness, the demon would be summoned to feast on the youngling's terror and pain before it would die, it's lifeblood going to feed the lust and hunger of the demon.

Sankarran did not realize she had closed her eyes until a loud squeal from Solan caused her to suddenly, almost fearfully, look to her son. But is wasn't a surprise attack by goblin raiders that caused her son to squeal. It was instead his attempt to imitate the angry squeaking of the squirrel that had been his quarry when it realized it was being pursued. Sankarran shook her golden head in amusement as Solan began snapping his tail back and forth in a fair imitation of the most indignant squirrel.

As Solan reached the end of his tale, Sankarran sent a grateful prayer to the Spirit of the Winds for the continued safety and happiness of her family. There was truly little danger of either fate happening to her son as long as she and Mirroth remained vigilant. Her son would continue to grow and prosper and chase squirrels across the meadows near their home, and she would always take delight in the excited cries of "Daddy!Daddy!Daddy!"

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