Chapter Two

Draq opened his eyes to find himself lying on his face in the grass. Again.

His vision cleared slowly. Before him was a looming dark shape that eventually formed into the configuration of a cave, its interior drenched in shadow because of its placement under an overhang of grass, just out of the sun's reach. Around him were walls of grass that made him dizzy at first, as he tried to understand that he was lying flat on the ground and yet surrounded by it on all sides. It took him a long while to realize that when he had fallen, it had been toward the valley. The walls of grass were hills rising up around him.

He lay there in agony, wondering at what had awoken him. The sun was much farther in the sky than it had been the last time he'd seen it, and its warmth was faint. Yet, his head still throbbed as though it was being pounded upon. He felt as though he might black out again at any time. He didn't even attempt to stand.

Then, out of nowhere, he felt the tingling, exactly the same as before. Now, why was that happening? It wasn't long before the sensation went away. But what did it mean?

And then he heard the song. This time it started faintly, as though shy — but it quickly grew in strength, becoming surer as the notes wound together into a long, weaving strand. The singing didn't seem to have actual words, not that Draq could make out, anyway. It was pure, though, and he couldn't even begin to guess at what creature would be making such a noise.

Draq forced his eyes open — although he didn't remember closing them . . . and focused on the sound, determined that this time he would find its source. He wasn't surprised to find that it seemed to be coming from the cave, the smooth walls casting the song's echoes into the coming dusk.

He stood slowly, bringing his splayed limbs under him one at a time, and was relieved to note that he did not become dizzy the moment he lifted his head. It felt airy, true, but he no longer felt on the verge of unconsciousness. He took a tentative step toward the cave. After taking several more, his paws became sure, and he padded up to the entrance of the cave with sheathed claws. I don't want them clicking against the floor before I know what's in there! he thought wisely.

Draq poked his head into the gloom. The song continued without wavering, and he felt his courage boost. Whatever he found, he had the advantage of surprise.

He crouched slightly, and crept forward into the cave, folding his broad blue wings as he did so. They rustled slightly as they settled into place. That was all. The rest of his motions were soundless. His blood-colored scales blended into the dark, hiding him against the dusty reddish-brown walls. He felt his muscles tense in anticipation as the music grew louder. He felt drawn to it as a scavenger is drawn to carrion; it is the natural way.

And then Draq turned a corner.

He was confronted by a curious sight. A small, pale figure was standing on two legs before a smooth wall of glossy blue stone. The music, melodious before, seemed to glow with its own presence in the tiny cavern. Draq felt lifted by the sound; freed. An image bubbled into his mind, of an open sky and the whole word stretched out beneath him, as it was when he was flying. He spread his wings, reveling in the feel of the image the mysterious song was weaving for him.

And that was when the figure turned around; when it heard his wings snapping open in the confines of the cave.

The song died, notes breaking and falling away without harmony. The cave held its breath.

Now that it was facing him, Draq easily recognized the creature. It was a human. A female human, with a tattered brown cloth draped over her shoulders, and a blue one wrapped around her legs. To her credit, she didn't scream. Draq almost expected her to, based on what he'd heard of the race. They were said to make plenty of noise at the best of times, and unleash piercing shrieks at the worst. The human, however, merely stared at him with wide eyes.

Draq tilted his head, wondering if humans could read facial expressions. Probably not. "Hello?" he asked softly, hoping that his deep, draconic voice would not send the creature running. He'd seen animals much bigger than she flee from a dragon.

But of course, there was nowhere to run to. He was standing in the entrance of the chamber. He saw, even in the dark, the human's eyes flick to it several times, longingly, but even something as small as she was, must see that she would have no chance of reaching it before his reflexes caught on. She flinched at the sound of his voice, but still she made no noise.

Taking a step forward, Draq wondered what humans thought of dragons. He'd never really considered their point of view before, but it puzzled him that the human female did not run, even though she was clearly afraid. The scent of her fear came off her in waves, and did not disappear as Draq drew closer. He tried again, "Hello."

The human flinched again, drawing in her breath sharply — but still, she did not run. Draq began to grow impatient. He had heard that, while simple, humans were not merely dumb animals. He had heard that they could speak.

He bared his teeth, wondering if that might provoke a reaction.

It did. The human whimpered, and took a step back.

Draq asked her, "Why are you here?"

He hadn't expected an answer, and was surprised when the human female finally gave him one.
"I came here to sing." Her voice was soft and timid, but it was as smooth as the music it had sung just before. At that moment, fluid dripped down her face, clear and salty, and Draq was hit by the revelation that she was crying. He hadn't known that humans could shed tears, too.

Then he realized the most profound fact of all; She thinks she is going to die.

He flicked his ears forward and took a step closer. "I'm not going to hurt you," he promised. Usually, he didn't concern himself with the trivial matters of other creatures. Why was he going through all this trouble? he asked himself. Yet, he knew the answer almost instantly. It was because of the song. "I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated, even as the human took several more steps back. Her whimpering had become a steady sobbing, now.

He almost gave up right then. Clearly, the human was too frightened to talk to him. He might as well just turn around and stroll out into the sunlight, and fly away over the grassy plains until he found home. Wherever that was. But it was at that moment that the human female asked, "Why?"

Draq blinked at the unusual question. After some careful thought, he decided to be frank. "Well, you don't look very tasty, and I'm not hungry anyway. I came here because I heard your voice."

The human's face was confused. "So, you're not going to eat me, —and you're not going to burn me to the floor, either?"

"No, I'm not."

A shy smile stole over the human's expression. "That's awfully nice of you. Since you're a dragon and all."

"What do humans expect of dragons?" Draq asked curiously.

The female seemed to think for a moment, and then replied, "Well, dragons are supposed to be ferocious and cruel, and they eat people and burn our cities to the ground for the fun of it."

Draq was intrigued. "Have you ever seen a dragon do this?" He wondered at where she must be from, for such an awful race of dragons to exist.

The human's pale skin took on a reddish hue, and Draq wondered what this meant, until she finally blurted, "Well, no, but there are rumors and stuff . . ." She trailed off, lowering her eyes. Her fear scent came even more strongly, now. Perhaps she thinks she has offended me? Draq wondered.

"Well, I've never eaten a human, and I've never burned a city," he assured her. Okay, maybe a rural house here and there, but they had deserved it. Never had he even gone near a whole city. "I assure you, I am not interested in wasting the slightest bit of effort on hurting you," he insisted.

The human seemed to grow more confident. "I like the way you think," she told him. "I didn't know that dragons could think, much less speak." As an afterthought, she questioned, "Why are you here, talking to a human girl, anyway?"

Draq had to think before speaking. Do I even know the answer to that question? he wondered. He thought back to what had started this whole situation in the first place. He hadn't gone looking for humans. He'd been tracing the song, he remembered. And before that, he'd awoken to find himself abandoned on top of the hill in a land that appeared to be far from the mountainous forests of his home.

Finally, he said simply, "I heard you singing."

"Oh, that," the human ¬—'girl'— said. "Where I come from, only the best singers are allowed to come here," she explained. "If someone wants to become a singer, they have to travel here alone, and sing in the Blue Stone Cave —that's what we call this place— and then return home safely."

Draq snorted. He'd heard that the humans had some pretty strange rituals, but witnessing them first-hand was even more extreme. "That sounds pointless, to me," he told the girl. "Even if it did make sense, someone could just leave your city, wait around a few days, and then return and tell everyone that they had done their task, without actually having done it at all."

To his surprise, the girl laughed. It was a clean, sweet sound, and echoed playfully off the walls. "I guess you're right about that," she admitted. "But usually, people who want to become singers take it seriously. Like me."

He began to grow impatient. He hadn't come here to argue with humans, after all. "I have to leave."

"Where are you going?"

Taken off guard by the question, he growled, "To do dragon stuff." He turned from her, and padded out of the cave.