Origin(Chapter2)

“Raugh!”
“Raugh! Raugh!”
“Reeeeegh!”
The creatures pecked at him angrily with their serrated beaks, noisy all the while. The dragon, as instinctively as he knew his own species, understood that they were bird-like animals, and that their wings were for flying. But he still couldn’t figure out why they hated him.
“Reeeeeeeeeeeagh!” one screamed, closing in on his face with its wings beating furiously.
“Rrrrrrrrr,” he responded, deep in his throat.
With a squawk, the creature wheeled away.
He had to admit, he was getting better at the whole growling-thing.
The avians drew back a little, perching on nearby ledges. The cliffside was riddled with such ledges, and the birds lined up on them like vigilant sentries. The dragon, having discovered this area yesterday when he had first entered the oasis, knew by now that the birds were easy to calm, if only he let them try attacking him first. To him, it was simply a peculiar hate-hate relationship, but it was one that worked, and this satisfied him.
At a distance, the birds were cute—almost friendly in demeanor. They weren’t more than two feet tall standing on their webbed hind legs, and had silvery, streamlined bodies. Their wings were their arms, covered in feathers like their bodies.
Their long tails had arrow-shaped barbs at the end, dangerous and threatening. However, what captivated him the most was their sharp faces. Their smooth heads branched into two tufted ears, one on either side, and smaller feathers rose up like a crest between them, from their foreheads to their necks. The jagged beaks were the part that really grabbed his attention, though—particularly when they were jabbing at his scales.
Even so, the dragon found it still more interesting that the shape of their wings was quite similar to that of the limbs lying along his own spine. In his mind, it implied that he might be related to this species, somehow, despite how farfetched the idea seemed. It made him feel slightly less alone in the world.
Now that they had given up their ambush, he approached the series of ledges. One side of the valley was very sheer, and provided not only the ledges, but multiple caves. Several caves, as the dragon had discovered, were large and dry inside. These two traits alone had prompted the dragon to claim for himself a more permanent home.
The birds, on the other paw, did not seem as happy with this arrangement. But the dragon decided that he would take care of that later, when they decided to calm themselves and communicate in a manner more agreeable than screeching and pecking.
The scents of the oasis left him as he entered his new domain. He ducked his head as he padded lightly inside, his ears flat lest they be clawed by a stray talon. The dry, sheltered air smelled faintly less foreign now, perhaps because he had already spent one night nestled into the homey crevice.
Finally in the safety of his own home, so to speak, he dropped his prize upon the floor, which he had carried with him by his own teeth. It was the fresh body of a prey animal, still slightly warm—or perhaps still warm only from his breath, but who could say? He sprawled his body over the hard floor of the cave and ripped hungrily into his meal, reveling in a way that only a dragon could.
Unexpectedly, something stirred outside. The dragon jerked his head back with ears flattened, instantly alerted. A warm puff of air ejected from his nostrils, turning the air cloudy. It was beneath his notice that his agitation had turned his breath cloudy, however; all his focus was on the possibility of a threat.
He turned toward the light slowly—but while he’d been eating, his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. The light was blinding now, and he could see very little but the general shape of the hole from which the sunlight was beaming directly inside. He squinted against the glare, baring his teeth, and began to scent the air—
But suddenly, a large, dark shape obscured the entrance, flying toward him.
With a surge of adrenaline, the dragon leapt straight upwards, his paws flinging out to meet this latest opponent. It was too big to be a bird, and his extra limbs shot from his back instinctively, spreading to make him seem larger.
The attacker met him head-on; the dragon ducked just in time to feel something hard crash against the thick, solid horns on his head. Not used to such blows, he fell back, startled. Fortunately, the opponent didn’t seem to have expected such resistance, and stumbled backwards as if equally stunned. When it came at him again, he was ready for it.
Snarling, he lifted a paw and slashed it sideways before him, as if to knock the creature to the side. It appeared to be thrown off balance for a moment, but recovered quickly and used its momentum to swing its own foreleg at the dragon in turn. The dragon ducked, but was clipped on the ear. It began to sting instantly.
The dragon hissed, spreading his extra limbs all the wider, and fluttering them slightly as well. He was startled to see the opponent grow larger also, as if it, too, had extra flaps on its back to use as a bluff. There was very little difference in size now.
Ears flat, the dragon growled low, wondering what to do next. He was prepared to fight for his new home tooth and claw, but he was anxious and tense, as it was his first real battle, after all.
Suddenly, the creature before him froze. And then, even more unbelievably, it Spoke.
“You are just like me . . .” it said softly in wonder.
The dragon shrank back, his heart pounding hard. It was strange to hear Words that weren’t in his own head, and he bared his teeth again, confused by his own comprehension.
But even has he withdrew so slightly, the creature stretched out a paw toward him. “Don’t you see? You must be a dragon, too,” and finally, the creature moved out of the offending beam of sunlight, so that the dragon could see it all the better.
Indeed, it was a creature he had not yet encountered. It was nearly as large as himself, and had a long, sleek body, from horned-head to winding tail. It supported its weight on four limbs, but appeared to have two suspicious folds along its back, covered in a soft layer of fuzz. The skin of the creature was actually scales. Its entirely-white form shone softly in the slant of the sunlight, becoming mysteriously tinged with the colors of the sky, as if reflecting them.
The dragon took all this in with a glance, and somewhere inside, embedded deep in his instincts, he was able to recognize that this was, indeed, another of his own kind, and also that she was female. It was a peculiar revelation, and one that made him pause and stare warily.
The expression on her face changed, and the male dragon was startled not because he didn’t recognize the smile, but simply because he’d never seen one before.
“I am Auren,” she said clearly, and for the first time the red dragon could appreciate the beauty of Sound. Having never before heard the voice of a dragon, he had not formerly appreciated the unique tones that only a Voice could offer.
He tilted his head just slightly. “‘Auren’?” he repeated back, confused. It was the first time he had spoken, and he was slightly surprised to learn that his own voice was not entirely identical. In any case, he decided that the deeper, richer tones of his own voice were equally pleasant. “But I thought you were a dragon,” he said carefully. He struggled to process the information with surprising difficulty. Until now, there had been only himself, and he knew he was a dragon. But this creature was not only a dragon, but an ‘Auren’ as well?
The other dragon was calm as she responded, “I am a dragon. But my name is ‘Auren’.”
The male stared, still slightly confused. “But . . . I know that we are called ‘dragons’,” he verbalized slowly. “How can you, a dragon, be also called ‘Auren’? What’s the difference between your name, and our name . . ?” Frustratingly, he found that he couldn’t quite put his question into words. He’d never had to think very hard before. He had simply existed, and observed, and learned what life had revealed to him in its own form of communication. This present way of thinking was something entirely different, and he was struggling to adjust.
Fortunately, though, Auren seemed to understand. “We are called dragons because that is the name of our species. It is the essence of what we are,” she said. “But if every member of our species were to call every other member ‘dragon’, then we would never be able to identify each other appropriately.”
He blinked as it clicked into place. “I see.”
Her smile brightened a little, and the dragon felt a strange pulling in his mouth as if it were contagious. It was a peculiar feeling, but not entirely unpleasant.
“Your name is going to be ‘Alturo’ now,” she told him.
Taken aback, he frowned slightly. “How do you know what my name should or shouldn’t be?” he asked. He found himself wondering if there was a trick to it.
But Auren simply snorted. “Because I just gave you that name, of course. Don’t you like it?”
“Who gave you your name, then?” he countered with suspicion.
She flicked her tail teasingly. “I named myself.”
His expression didn’t change. “Why can’t I name myself?” he asked, feeling slightly put out.
She laughed—a sound he might have found far more charming if it hadn’t been caused by her amusement at his ignorance. “Because I thought to, and you didn’t,” she said simply, still grinning. “But don’t you like the name ‘Alturo’ for yourself?” she pressed.
He grumbled bad-temperedly. The truth was, he couldn’t really complain; the name sounded absolutely fine to him. Even so, he had the strange urge to act dissatisfied, simply because he hadn’t gotten his way. Even while recognizing his own childish behavior.
“I guess it’ll have to do,” he thus grunted.
“Also, your ear is bleeding,” she noncommittally informed him.
He could feel the droplets running down to his chin from where she’d grazed him with her claws. “That’s your own fault,” he growled.
She flicked her tail again, still smiling. “You’re welcome.”
And thus, the first companionship of dragon kind was formed.