Word Count: 12,013
Warnings: Post-apocalyptic scenarios, violence
Author's Notes: Written for dragonbigbang. This was inspired by a song, On the Rooftop with Quasimodo by Apocalyptica. Thanks to boudecia7 for betaing. Thanks to desiderii for the wonderful artwork! Desiderri's Lovely Art
Summary: In a far future, where everything is dissolving, a group of survivors is creating a way to escape. Or maybe, just maybe, it's making itself....
On Ao3 or below the cut
“No teeth in the mouth! The last thing we need are razor-shards on the entrance and exit!” The words were no sooner out of Cam’s mouth when Heb pulled a shim slab from the pile of extras and tossed it down on the table, nodding absently in agreement. As it struck the metal table, it shattered into dozens of perfect, triangular, razor-edged shards.
The builders stared at them. The dragon raised its head, its lower jawbone lawing gaping on the floor. It raised its head with no one at the controls, and its pupils moved, tracking them.
The dragon roared against the white moon, its teeth gleaming as it leapt for the agile mountain goat that thought itself safe on the nearly sheer cliff face. With a crunch, the hunter watched it pluck its prey loose, and toss it down its throat with a single motion. Ah, such teeth would make her spears unstoppable once she had them. Nothing could stand up to a dragon’s fangs. Her own teeth gleamed in the moonlight as she grinned.
“Give it teeth,” Gee said, heart in her throat.
“So it’s not a fixed-wing craft, not anymore. It’s more of an ornithopter,” Cle explained, having Mic help him tug the first of the flat wing surfaces into position. “We’re looking at a fairly sophisticated wiring and computing system to control it. Someone found the right programming modules some time ago, but we’re going to have to wire it in blind, because we don’t have any frame of reference. Not that we ever do, but we’re not even going to be able to see it in motion.”
“Do we have enough power for that?” Heb said uncertainly. He eyed the small generators and the stores of fuel that had been collected. Beside the behemoth of the dragon, they looked pitifully tiny.
“We’ll have enough, or it’ll kill us. We…” Cam looked away, unwilling to give voice.
“We always have enough,” Gee said. She curled her hands around a wing-vane and pushed it at Mic, helping him carry it over to be placed correctly. “You found that module before you knew you’d need it, we find ore when we need it.” She pushed the wing-vane down into position, the end sliding into its slot like a dislocated joint sliding back into its socket. She looked pointedly back at the others as the wing moved just a little under its own direction, like a restless muscle tremor.
Gee took the rasp and climbed up on the small ladder until she was even with the dragon’s horns.
“I see you,” she said quietly, reaching out slowly. “When I’m dreaming. Is that weird?” She had faced down the others earlier, projecting supreme confidence in the fact that the dragon could move on its own, but had her own… Not doubts, but something. A need perhaps, a need for a sign that didn’t come unbidden from behind her own eyes.
The dragon just lay there, a slow rumble coming from the trickle of power they were using to test its systems.
“Your horns are supposed to be sharper, aren’t they? Just a little.”
The ears, sonic receptors, abruptly folded down, giving her easier access to the horn.
“You can hear me!”
A sound, almost a snort. Then silence again. Gee smiled into the quiet, and began to make things perfect.
The hunter pressed herself against the rock wall, her fellow hunters following her lead as she signaled a warning. Below the ledge where they were stalking their way up the mountain, a cave lion was pacing, huge and dangerous, though nothing compared to the prey that was their ultimate goal. The hunter felt a triumphant snarl cross her face; she had prepared to seek out the most dangerous game to ever exist. Next to that, a lion was unworthy. With the silence of the great cats themselves, the hunters moved past, climbing upward with great speed. Unworthy a lion might be, but to fall to its fangs while hunting a dragon? Such shame would not be lived down.
“Why give it teeth? Why in the name of days would it need teeth?” Heb said, his voice mocking. His hands were steady while Gee got the hoses into position, hooking up hydraulic power they’d redirected from some of the positioning cranes. Mic was already on the controls, ready to give the dragon movement its own form could not supply yet as soon as the elder builders fixed the connections.
“Shut up,” Cam said, cinching them down tight. “I was wrong. I’m not too proud to say I’m wrong!”
“It knew we’d need them,” Gee said, her teeth clamped tight on a spanner while she pulled the hose tight.
“You’re… creepy when you say things like that.”
“You know what’s creepier? Starving to death. Or getting eaten.”
Cam grimaced but didn’t say anything. Protein was protein, and those of the band that died under shelter fed the tanks in solemn ceremonies of thanksgiving. Those few survivors left who were less cautious (or more desperate) used their dead directly despite the dangers of the toxins they’d been exposed to all their life. Only the brew and quench algae-bacterial complexes could cleans the component parts, letting the dead still care for the living. It was the cycle of life, and one they had to defend now.
Fen had given warning less than an hour ago of what Gee and Vac had seen a long time ago – other survivors, scarred and cruel-looking, ready to grasp and tear away whatever little was left in the world. They might even be the same ones, just more twisted and desperate from time spent dodging from shelter to shelter, instead of ever taking time to reinforce one of their own. They were in the tunnels and moving towards the band’s shelter, and fast.
Gan had taken the news calmly, looked straight at the builders, and nodded once. “We have one chance.”
They’d all nodded, hearts in their throats, knowing that tools were the only real weapons the band had, and that tankers, skimmers, suit-skin makers, shelter repairers, air purifiers, and a tale-teller were no match for the violence of survivors that had lived their lives by destroying others. The only thing strong enough was the dragon.
It was why they were bantering even as they prepared the dragon to move, to give it the life it wasn’t quite ready for yet. Because that banter kept them from being too terrified. Gee put the last of the hoses in position, and crawled on the protrusions of the spine until she was near the head, the controls for the jaw still exposed pending a new influx of ore.
“Please work,” she whispered. “Please.”
There was a humming everywhere Gee’s body touched the dragon, and she could see the other builders tense at their controls, the hoses hooked up to its claws and half-finished wings. With a shout, Heb and Cam activated the feet, and the whole of the dragon, still missing panels and parts, hauled itself over to the door to the sludge flow passageway, where the survivors were waiting. The rest of the band were huddling behind a bulwark of a few chunks of unprocessed ore and what tools still remained, leaving as much of the shelter free as possible.
Something banged ominously on the door, solid hits that sounded like metal, punctuated by a few rough shouts in a nearly incomprehensible language. The builders waited, hoping against hope that the door might just hold. Then something long and thin and jagged slid up between the halves of the door and sliced at the latch. Gee gripped the controls on the head, her hands sweaty within her gloves, and the dragon’s mouth gaped, its teeth oddly shiny with an overflow of hydraulic fluid. Its claws tensed as Cle and Mic raised them, while Heb and Cam took over the wings.
The door flew open. Rangy figures boiled up from below, surrounded by sludge vapors and screaming murder.
The hunter ducked down, a lock of her hair fluttering free as the dragon swept past her, missing her by a handbreadth. The spike of hot pain on her head where it had nearly gotten her, its speed tremendous, its movement uncompromising, faster and stronger than anything that had ever lived. It was perfect.
Gee didn’t remember moving her hands, but Gan told her later the head bit twice and the claws slashed once, while the wings kept the carnage contained. The only thing she did remember was one clawed arm lashing out to slam the door shut against the sight of the remains sinking into the flows, while Mic and Cle’s hands were limp on the controls.
Hal recorded it in the Book of Days.
No one spoke about it.
Or against it.
“We don’t…” Heb looked at the generator and shook his head. It was a sad, slow shake, that the dragon was nearly finished, within days of being done, and there was always one more obstacle. “We don’t have enough power for a standing start. With the mass of the dragon plus the band and the tanks, we won’t be able to get enough height or speed.”
Gee remembered her dreams, the dragon leaping off the clifftops, wings spread to the sun.
“Gravity assist,” Gee said succinctly. Cam blinked, and then lit up.
“Put it atop the tallest thing standing and the height is already there. It can use kinetic motion to kick-start the second-tier generators and gain flight speed. Gee, you’re a genius!”
Heb swallowed, and Gee knew he was thinking of what would happen if they failed. It would be instant death to fall from those heights. And that would be preferable to slowly dissolving. Wasn’t that why they were doing this in the first place?
“Right,” Heb said, and sighed. “Now how do we get it up there?”
“Skimmers,” Gee said. “And whatever power we have left. It helped protect us from the survivors, and it damn sure is not going to let us down now.”
“Skim-.” Cle paused, then looked over at Pit, where he was carefully lowering a small ball of ore to the ground with the gravity-assist of the skimmer. “Yes… yes. We could do it!”
They could. They could do it with Gan having to rally the entire band, with every hand on every available skimmer, lightening the gravity on the dragon so it could walk with what power remained in the first-tier generators. They could do it while leaving the shelter, most of the band so terrified they cried every step across open ground, and they could do it while losing three of the band to a sudden downpour of acid rain they had been too slow to escape.
It was the first real test, the only one that counted, a full acid rain that would either prove the dragon could shelter them or dissolve their dreams. They were sheltered, the acid rain falling like pure quench-water on its surface. That gave the entire band hope, enough fearful, fragile hope to help the dragon through the skeleton of the tallest structure they could find, scrambling up with it, their precious tanks of food and drink already in its belly. Enough hope not to scream when sometimes the dragon moved a wing or claw not under their direction.
Enough hope, finally, to be ready to push the last of the power to its limits, to be ready to complete the dragon entirely. Enough to be ready to see if it could fly.
“Come on, Gee,” Pit whispered. “Come on!”
Gee ignored Pit’s nerves and the taught urgency she could feel straining the air behind her as she crept in. The new gear was wrapped in greasy rags, clutched in her hand like a talisman. She smiled tightly behind her breathing mask; the truth was it might as well be. Seeming acres of flat flexible metal vanes were spread out over the uneven surface of the skyscraper roof, looking like gleaming waves on the Toxic Sea. In the midst of those waves was a craggy island, tapering out at the north and south to spiky promontories, the whole center dominated by an intimidating iron spine.
Iron… that was wrong. Steel was closer, steel mixed with whatever melted alloys and chemicals had bonded to it, riveted to the sides in seamless harmony. Those sides heaved like bellows, slow and regular, as Gee put her foot along the balustrade and began to spiral towards the head. The cement was crumbling from the acid rains, but it was the only way to get around to the front without stepping on those gleaming wings, sharp enough to cut through the smog and solid clouds that would have crashed a plane in minutes.
Gee felt the stone shift beneath her feet as she walked, but kept her eyes on her goal, the head with its toothy maw and spines, the eyes gleaming with the fires that powered it from within. A flicker of movement attracted her eye, and she made a sign of welcome to the other builders. This far into the project, they were the only ones who dared to get so close to their salvation while it was under full power. All were silent and stealthy, silhouetted against the burnt orange moonlight peeking through the thickening clouds, knowing their special status wouldn’t save them if they were careless. Each one of them had something in their hand, or strapped to their back, a rod or piston, wiring array or circuit, controlling node or gear – something to help breathe life into the slumbering behemoth. Something to help it fly. Something to wake it up completely.
Gee breathed out slowly, knowing that behind her Pit was dancing with impatience and worry, wanting her to go faster before the rains could catch them all, and ignored both his unseen dance and the gathering clouds. She reached up to touch the melted, insensible scars that marred her cheek and neck above and below her mask. The roof had leaked one day, and a lot of people had paid the price. There were few in the band who were scar-free. Back then, long ago, the dragon had been only half-finished, a hollow skeleton being built from the ground up. But it had stayed strong, protected from the corrosion that was eating their world.
“We can do it. We can get away.” That had been the mantra once everyone had seen how the metal bones survived, how the new alloy performed. That had been the dream of the elders when they’d begun the task with one single hope, to get away. But it had become so much more than a dream.
Somehow the dragon knew just as much as they did. It knew this land was dying, and it knew Gee’s band wanted to get away. The difference between living and merely animate things was nearly a quaint idea of the past, the blurred definition frightening for the older generations. Life wasn’t always born from a woman, or hatched from an egg. Sometimes, now, it just happened. And sometimes it needed help.
Gee eased herself down from the balustrade onto the rough surface of the roof, in one of the few places not covered by wings. She scarcely dared to breathe through her mask. The front of one wing loomed, and if the dragon twitched in its sleep, she would be crushed. She held the gear out in her gloved hand, hoping it would sense she meant to help wake it up.
“Please,” she whispered. Life wasn’t safe, not even not-quite-awake half-life like this. She’d known that since Dad had been lost in the sludge flows. Life took work, sacrifice, and couldn’t be rushed, no matter how much the acid rains threatened. The wing didn’t twitch, and Gee moved up, clutching the gear hard enough to make it impress on her hand through her glove. She could tell where it had to go, even though the blueprints were… inexact at best, drawn from dreams. Right there at the junction of the jaw, that was her goal. Just like Heb’s rod went to support its left wing, Mic’s circuit into its ear, and Cle’s node into the corner of its eye.
Gee’s hand tingled when she came in contact with its skin, and sought the joint in the dim light like her fingers had eyes. The gear sunk into place, and Gee nearly felt it as her own joint popping back home. She knew without looking that Heb and Mic and Cle had succeeded at the same time. The builders were the only ones who worked on the dragon directly, the ones whose blood was mixed with the steel and circuitry, those who’d lost family or limbs to the dream the dragon represented.
“Please,” Gee whispered again, with all of Pit’s urgency. The clouds were gathering, thickening, but she cared less about adding to her scars than seeing sense in those glowing eyes.
The dragon moved. Its eyes opened, sulfur yellow and glowing in the dim light, powerful and amused and terrible. She fell back as it reared up, the long neck stretching above them, its wings rising to form acres of shelter proof against the rains. It opened its jaws and fluted a thin, metallic cry, echoing the guarded joy of those who clung to the edges of the roof. A faint scream sounded as at least one person lost their grip and fell through the acid fog to the unyielding ground below. Fear chilled Gee’s hands as it lifted its wings, terrified it would sweep them all away, or worse, fly away without them. Not safe. Dad’s words echoed in her ears as he’d skimmed the bounty out of the flows, pounded the dragon into life on her anvil. Life is never safe.
“Please!” Gee cried out loud. The dragon’s head whipped down to spear her with a heated glanced, its glittering teeth visible. Then the head came back down and lay upon the roof, the jaws opening up wide. The way to freedom was open to them, paved in a metallic tongue and hemmed by steel teeth, possibly warmed by toxic fire.
Gee stepped forward, hearing the bellows of its lungs as she drew closer. Heb and Mic and Cle were right behind her as she drew level with it. And stepped inside without hesitation. Behind her, she could hear the faint crunch of the band’s feet touching down off the balustrades and following. They’d put their lives into its hands- claws, it and the people who’d put their blood into it, an idea for freedom in flight now finally given form.
The passage down the dragon’s throat was low and dark, but protected on every side, a far better home than anyone had ever had. The throat opened out into the huge hollow belly, somehow different now despite all of them having helped the builders put it together piece by agonizing piece. Gee reached up for the straps Cle had put there some months before, just exactly far apart enough for her and the others to grip them, and clung tight as the dragon lurched up. A panel Heb and Mic had installed slid open, showing the wreck of the roof through crystal clear polycarb alloy as the wings opened to their fullest extent at the desperate grip of dozens of hands.
They were perched on the edge, nothing before them but the half-melted and shattered stubs of a world slowly dissolving into the Toxic Sea, thick clouds hemming them all in.
“Fly!” Gee screamed, knowing that it wasn’t safe, that they didn’t know even as much as they thought they had about the dragon, but more than willing to cling to life.
“Fly!” came the ragged chorus from the others, the Builders’ voices rising clear and strong amongst them. Gasps sounded as the dragon lurched, the world tilting crazily as the plunged from the skyscraper, fell, free-falling… and soared, the steel wings cutting through the solid clouds, the roar of the dragon the voice of the true survivors.
Nothing and no one was meant to fly this high, to see the world like this. This was where the clouds lived, the vapor that descended to burn them, ground them, that had melted their world and was taking them one life at a time. Gee closed her eyes for a moment, not sure she should be seeing the tops of the clouds, not like this, and opened them again. They were flying past so fast, faster than anyone was able to track, faster than anyone had ever gone, faster than any instrument they had.
The dragon banked, throwing the band against its sides as it turned over the clouds, and climbed again, the belly nearly skimming the tops of other buildings, unfamiliar ones that still bore the acid scars of rain. It was not home.
Home isn’t safe. Home was killing us.
Cle looked at her wildly, and Gee realized she’d said that out loud. He nodded at her, his eyes crinkling in a wild, crazed grin. The dragon was heading… somewhere. Rumors had painted the west as a place free from rain, where a person could walk around without a suit-skin and breathe without a mask, but no one could say for certain. There had never been anyone willing to put metal into a vehicle rather than a shelter, to risk being caught in an acid storm rather than hiding in a bunker. Not until they’d had the dream of leaving, of taking all that they’d skimmed and pouring into a chance instead of a certainty, looking to the future instead of surviving the present.
They’d had hope. They’d died for hope. Gee grinned too behind her mask, feeling more than a little mad. And more than a little alive.
The hunter stood atop the slain carcass, her spear dripping with heart’s blood, her face red with the fresh kill. She threw her head back and screamed a victory cry, hearing the others echo her over and over again. Looking down at the creature, she smiled savagely at its proud, broken form, and saluted it in a testament to its skill. But it hadn’t fought hard enough to keep itself from being taken. Those that didn’t fight to live deserved to die. She turned her face to the sun and felt the warmth falling down on her, a promise of all the good things to come.
Gee started awake as someone made a tiny, strangled scream of surprise. Looking down, she could see what was wrong. So, so wrong. Wisps of white cloud, only the smallest fragments of vapor, and all the wrong color, were visible through the clear underbelly. And below that the ground was covered with green. Not the bright toxic green of acid, or the muddy sludge green of decay, but a verdant shade she’d never seen.
The dragon banked again, and she could see gray stone rising up in the distance. Her mind automatically said “concrete heap,” but she tried again, seeing the random rise of actual uncut rock, rather than a huge pile of worked artificial stone.
“It’s a mountain,” Cle said with awe. “It’s a real mountain!”
Someone screamed a little louder this time as the mountain came close, closer, until with a crunch of claws and a jolt strong enough to wrench everyone’s hands loose, they were down on the earth again. No one moved, faces set in a mask of fear, but the dragon apparently had other ideas. With a shake and a sudden flare of light, the mouth opened, and the dragon tilted itself forward. Scrabbling at the walls, the members of the band found themselves trying to hold themselves back against gravity. But one by one, or sometimes in groups, grips were lost, and they slid down the throat, over the deadly fangs, to sprawl on the rocky hillside.
“Don’t leave us,” Gee whispered. “Please.” The dragon abruptly settled, and Gee took the hint, walking out under her own power. She turned to face the metallic head as she was free of its teeth, and it regarded her without a blink. “Please don’t leave us,” she said. Its sides expanded and contracted as it flushed air through its system, sighing. Then it moved so fast Gee was on her back, breath whooshing out of her as claws she had forged settled heavily over her shoulders. The rest of the band was silent, the kind of palpable stillness that happens when you don’t want to attract the monster’s attention. No one moved. Gee barely dared to breathe.
The dragon’s head lowered twisting to the side so one huge orange eye, glowing with inner fire, could stare right at her. “Please,” Gee whispered again. A single talon lifted from her body and touched the insensible scarred skin on her face. She could feel pressure as it moved down, and gasped in shock as it ripped the breathing mask from her face. Gee expected to feel the immediate burn as toxicity ravaged her inner tissues, and tried to hold her breath against the pain and horrible death that she knew was coming. The dragon waited until spots danced in front of her eyes, and Gee took a single desperate breath. And then another. And another. Clean, free breaths, devoid of the acrid stink and acidic pain she’d felt every time she had to do a quick filter change in the field. With trembling hands, she reached up and put her goggles on the top of her head, blinking away tears as she looked around with eyes unclouded by plastic for the first time in her life.
The dragon rumbled and pulled back, finally letting her free.
People were down there, people running across the plain of grass with glittering spears in their hands, their hair streaming out behind them. A woman was in the lead, her body powerful, her stride confident, her shouts filling the air, urging on the flying creature barely keeping ahead of them. Somehow she knew that it had been flying for a long time, been chased for a long time, and for all its power, all its skill, for all that the little creatures below it couldn’t reach it with their tiny weapons, it couldn’t fly forever. Nor would it kill them, for that was not in its nature.
Gee shoved her hand in her mouth, muffling a shriek as the creature, the dragon, crashed into the mountain slopes, exhausted and spent. She turned to look at the thing she’d helped make, and it nodded slowly at the stony, scaled hide of the beast on the slope below. The hunters, too focused on their prey, didn’t even look up to see Gee’s dragon watching them. They began to climb the slopes, never hesitating, eyes only on the prize before them. They were too short-sighted to see…
The great beast falling to her spear, a symbol of her prowess, her tribe’s skill, given back to the earth as a gift to the spirits. Its body lying there, sacrificed to their pride, wasted and alone, rotting and dissolving back into the rock.
Gee gasped as the tail end of her dream flashed across her mind, tears welling up as she saw the face of the woman leading the hunters.
“This isn’t some other place in my world,” Gee said. The dragon nodded. “But it was,” she said, the statement half a question. The dragon nodded again. Gee reached out and touched the metal scales and bones and wings she had spent so long making, forming them out of metal touched by tragedy eons ago and forged in the crucible of mistakes that had all led from this one careless act, this time, this single thrust of the spear that showed what she was willing to sacrifice.
Gee ran down the slope, the skimmer alive in her hand, screaming her own song of acid and pain, uncertainty and loss, of riding the wave of surviving a continuing apocalypse only to scrape out a living hell of a life, its bright points diminished to the glow in the dragon’s eyes. Her father’s eyes.
The hunter looked up, her spear pulled back from the fatal plunge as Gee leapt over the living body of the dragon. The skimmer thrummed as she powered it up, connecting with the hunter’s spear and hurling its point away from its fatal mark.
“No!” Gee screamed, and cast her body over the shuddering sides of the dragon, its stony hide digging into her back. “Let it live! Please, please, you have to let it live!”
The hunter stared at her, their faces mirror images, one roughed by wind, the other burned by acid, but sharing the same eyes, the same mouth. She stooped stiffly, and pressed one hand to the dragon’s heaving sides.
“Let it live,” Gee said, her voice ragged.
Gee stared at the other with a curious sensation building in her chest. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, could not credit it, but couldn’t deny her senses. The hunter was tall, her skin darker, her hair longer. She bore the lithe muscle of a lifetime of running, jumping, freely moving under a clear, safe sky. Gee was shocked at the paint and deliberate, symmetrical scarring on the hunter’s body. Her band fought just to remain intact, and every scar showed where they’d lost that battle.
Gee pulled her mask completely away, letting it fall, set her goggles on her head, and pushed down her hood with a gloved hand. The hunter hissed, her eyes going wide. Gee was pale as a bloodless grub, acid-scarred down one side of her face, stunted and small from poor food and no sun, from endless ages underground living in fear of the very air she breathed.
But their faces… twins. A primitive hunter with her spear and long limbs and clay paint. A woman from the end of the world, using every bit of innovation and invention of a thousand generations to cling to life. They were the same. The dragon looked down at Gee, and she swallowed, terrified.
The hunter shook her spear and shouted to the sky, a primal cry of victory, bravado. I am not afraid of you. She was not afraid, secure in her strength and skill, confident in a way Gee had never been. Life was not safe for either of them, but for the hunter, it was about risk and reward. For Gee, bare survival.
The hunter pointed her spear at the stone-hided beast on the mountain, its form one Gee knew all too well. She’d hammered out its wing-vanes, honed its claws, sharpened the horns on its head. She’d forged his bones, bolted together his form, and started the fires in his belly. She’d made him, she and the other builders.
“What are you doing?”
The hunter thrust her spear into the air, ending Gee’s bewilderment as to her motives. Dead, its bones moldering into the hills, becoming one with the rock, the last refuge of wonder destroyed for the hunter’s trophy.
Gee maintained her stance between the hunter and the dragon. “You can’t. You mustn’t.”
The hunter shouted and lunged her spear, coming within inches of Gee’s head. What’s stopping me?
A snarl of contempt.
“We lost something,” Gee said. She pointed to her dragon, gleaming dully in the sun. “We need that.” Wonder. Awe. Uncertainty. The frisson of the unknowable. Taken down, slaughtered and crowed over and for what? Even if the world had gone a different way, ended up overrun with growth instead of acidic decay, even if the sky had remained this sunny blue instead of clouded toxic green, they had lost something they could never get back.
The hunter was proud. They all were. But Gee had learned to believe in a creature who’d formed under her hands, who was capable of taking her band away from death. She’d learned to believe in the unknowable.
The hunter looked at her curiously, the point of her spear dropping. Gee moved back slowly, reaching to touch the stony hide, sun-warmed and rough under her hands instead of the smooth polished metal she’d labored to make. The dragon snorted out a breath, the sulfur stink a familiar friend.
It was not enough to survive. Gee had survived for her entire life. So had the hunter. But they needed to do more than survive. Gee had begun when they began building something according to no plan.
“We can change,” Gee said. Pleaded. And waited for the hunter’s answer.
Gee knew patience. She’d had the patience to wait for the storms to pass, to time the surges of the Toxic Sea near the sludge flows, to beat out nearly every single bone, scale, and wing-vane in a creature that would save them all. Even the hunter didn’t have that patience. She had the impulse of youth, Gee had the hard-won experience of age.
Killing the dragon had shown them they could conquer anything, impose their will on the world. Saving it would mean they could connect with anything, and learn to let go. Who knew what they could do, then?
The hunter looked at the dragon, at Gee, then at the hill behind her, her eyes widening. Gee turned to see the dragon she’d help create rising over the crest, its claws crunching as it descended the stony slope. The hunter looked back and forth between the metal dragon and the one of rock-hard flesh, and her flesh went pale. The metal dragon came and put its neck under Gee’s hand, looking down at her proudly.
The hunter’s spear clattered to the ground as she moved forward, her hands outstretched to touch the living scales of the dragon she had been hunting for days. They heaved under her hands as the dragon breathed, and the dragon quieted, looking up at her with a bright and wary eye. She held her breath, muscles tense, waiting for it to turn on her, to hunt her as she’d hunted it. Its claws moved slowly, circling one of her arms like immovable shackles, and she could feel the true strength of the dragon for the first time.
The hunter looked terrified, but stayed, reaching out her free arm to touch its face, running her finger along a scar near its eye. Her hand was shaking, and Gee leaned over to touch it, to press it to the dragon.
“We’ll be all right. We’ll live.”
The hunter looked up at her, then at the dragons, and bared her teeth in a fierce smile mixed with her, their, fear of survival, now assuaged. Gee didn’t need a translation.
So will they.
She woke up, the bellows-like breaths near her ear as familiar as her own heartbeat. The dragon reached out with a single claw, touching the metal cuff on her right elbow. She stretched out her left arm and felt her hand touch his nose.
“Hey,” she said in a teasing tone. “If you want wings, we better get cracking, mister.”
The dragon snorted, hot, sulfurous breath, washing over her, warm on the flesh of her face and left arm, heating up the cuff on her right, where her arm stopped at the elbow. Another cuff circled her left knee, where a crude metal rod helped her stand. The dragon helped nudge her to her feet- foot and peg, his own metal-cuffed wing stumps rising, truncated, from his back. One ear was pointed at her, the other a metal stump, awaiting completion. Neither of them were complete yet, but together, they would be.
They’d learn, they’d build each other until they were complete. She looked out the open window to the land below, thick forest and stone spires and a glimpse of shining sea. A few winged forms could be seen banking above the trees, alighting on the gleaming spires. A fresh scent rode the breeze, bringing with it the welcome promise of rain. The dragon sighed with longing, and nudged her with a bit of impatience. She grinned and turned back to the forge, took the bits of metal pried from the earth, and waited for the dragon to join her.