The Last Scale

“Asthylious! Asthylious!” An unfamiliar and panicked voice broke through the silence of the forest. I looked up from my reverie to see a large dragon, the largest I had ever seen, enter through the opening into the clearing. She stood gloriously on the other side of the ocher ponds, her eyes fixed on the sleeping form of her lost child beside me. From head to tail, the dragon was covered in the brightest of red pigmented fur.

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Brussaca is an appealing city from the air; I had forgotten just how enticing it was. There are caves and dwellings of the highest class sprinkled intricately throughout the valley, and dragons of all shapes and sizes meander about soaking in the sun-rays. Today, as I soar high above in the clouds, I look down upon the seemingly peaceful city with much fondness. It has been several decades since I have flown this way. I had spent my teenage years in Brussaca attending the roaring parties hosted by the Volcanic Dragons from the East and play-wrestling with the Pin Dragons from the West. I was quite the rowdy young dragon back in the day. In fact, the last time I was in Brussaca I was kicked out of The Farwitch Tavern for flaunting the Thisstles tongue. The Brussaconians could be touchy that way. I had intended on ruffling a few scales, that was true - though I had not imagined their reaction. Something about me so carelessly conversing in Thisstles, the outlawed language from the age of the Aletas, seemed to incite brutishness in the fine folk of Brussaca.

Aletas were said to have been large dragons, the largest of us ever recorded, full of pointed teeth and extremely bad mannerisms, and very iconically covered in some sort of gloriously pigmented fur. They were so physically dominating that they tormented the entirety of Dracon, or so the stories say - hence the prickliness that came with speaking in Aleta tongue. The nickname the patrons of the Tavern heckled at me as I was kicked out that night was “fairy fur.” They had meant of course that I was a joke of an Aletas. It was true that I was a descendant; my great-great-great-mother was an Aletas, fur and all. Though quite obviously, and literally I might add, I am not furry. My scales are as bright and golden as the frozen white oak’s leaves, and as smooth as the river pebbles in Riam’s River.

Today, I fly on. Just outside of Brussaca’s city limits is the Pategon Village, my home town. And just beyond the village is the Pategon Forest. It is this forest that I seek so that I can complete a task of great significance to me. With a rumbling in my chest I look down towards the tops of the swaying trees, frozen in place and tinkling like little bells. Pategon Forest was one of the oldest frozen forests in Dracon; a relic of the past - there were only 3 of these forests left, and it was very obvious why. I swoop down quickly into Pategon Forest and land one foot at a time. It is positively frosted, the ground hard like a diamond under me. My genetics lend me aid here; unlike most of the other dragons, my scales do not radiate heat. I am able to walk peacefully in each of the frozen forests of Dracon without the scenery turning into a puddle around me, just as my mother before me was able.

I take a deep cooling breath and look down to make sure the small pouch I had tied around my left leg was still intact. It was. I look around me carefully, though I have no reason to expect to see another dragon here. My mother and I were the only descendants of the Aleta that I had ever known, and yet I still have reason to be cautious. The only way to preserve the last of the frozen forests was for the Band of Dragons to outlaw access to them entirely - something I myself voted for. I’m sure the council would have made an exception for a dragon that could walk in the forest without melting it, if only the council had known of this possibility. I dart my eyes toward the sky one last time to make sure no curious eyes have spotted me. When I’m sure that no one has, I stomp my legs and scratch the hard ground with my talons. Stretching out my wings to their full extent, I began to run through the tinkling mammoth sized trees, my horned tail glowing behind me swishing tree to tree. The sheer peacefulness of the forest exhilarated me as I ran as fast as the forest would allow toward the place my mother would take me as a young dragon. The Gilded Pools were a series of small acidic ponds, frozen over with thick ocher coloured ice. My mother thought they were the epitome of beauty; she would sit for hours with me at her side, embraced in their cool wisdom.

I made an effort to slow my pace when I finally saw the small opening in the dense forest ahead. Once I broke through the opening the Gilded Pools came into view, they were scattered across the frozen ground in front of me like small beacons of hope. The series of ponds were enclosed with a tangle of frozen vines above, blocking off the sky and creating a sort of cocooned enclosure. I stared at the pools for a moment, feeling the traces of my grief that still ached, before checking the pouch on my leg again. It was there, of course - safe and sound. As beautiful as the pools were, a sudden wave of regret began to wash over me.

Maybe I should try again in a few more decades.

I was near ready to turn around and fly away when I heard something peculiar.

“Hi,” a small innocent voice echoed off of the solid forest floor.

I snorted in surprise, the heat of which melted the tips of the tall grass blades in front of me. I turned around in shock to see a young dragon sitting across the pools at the base of a great ten star maple tree. The small thing stared wide-eyed at me, its face puckered into a little surprised “O”. It was not quite a hatchling but perhaps several years old, a “toddler” as we affectionately referred to this age as; the age where dragons are most annoying I’ll add, where they trip over themselves and most resemble the descriptions of inquisitive little human children in the ancient scrolls. The toddler had burnt orange coloured scales that reminded me impossibly of my mother, though the toddler’s scales were not yet fully formed and there was the smallest hint of iridescence in them unlike anything I had ever seen.

I wasn’t good with younglings, and as I was an adult caught in an illegal act, I felt slightly embarrassed. Though, it was a toddler after all - how much did they really know of right and wrong.

Is it lost? It’s far too young to be out of the den on its own.

“Hello,” I said slowly.

The toddler’s small wings flapped nervously and then folded neatly on its patchily scaled back. When it was clear I wasn’t going to get a response, I continued.

“Come here often?” I joked nervously.

I watched as a snow flake flitted downwards and landed perfectly atop the younglings small head. It sat there for a moment before the breeze blew it away. It took me longer than it should have to really comprehend that another dragon, albeit a tiny one, was here in the frozen forest and what that meant about our similarities. Excitedly, I moved closer towards the young dragon.

“Young one, where are your parents?” I was very close now, though the child did not shy away as I would have when I was a young dragon. Instead of shying away from me the toddler suddenly squealed, “pretty gold!”

She scrambled forward, closing the distance between us and furiously wagging her tiny tail. She sniffed all around me, chanting repeatedly, “pretty gold.” Then the child lifted her tiny taloned front foot so that she could rest it atop mine. As she did this I worried that the child would miss and accidentally rip the pouch off of my leg.

“Stop that child! Keep your foot to yourself! Good, now…tell me, what is your name?”


Heavy with a childish lisp, the youngling stammered “As - as-thy-lious.”

“Well nice to meet you, Asthylious. My name is Yulendu. Can you tell me where you come from, young Asthylious? Your parents I mean, where are they?”

Asthylious shook her tiny head back and forth, and muttered “lost.”

Lost.

I have been around for decades, I lived long enough to see my own mother grow ancient and I was there when her body turned to dust in front of my eyes. I have carried the last of her burnt-orange scales with me all of these years because I cannot let go - I have also been lost.

“Child Asthylious, I ask again - your parents?”

Asthylious sat down in a huff, a cloud of snowy residue swirled out from under her. She blew a small bubble of flame with her nostrils.

“Hungry,” Asthylious huffed.

Oh for all that is red and aflame.

“Answer my question first.”

“Hungry!” Asthylious blew a larger flame. It burned the sides of the barbed bush beside me. I was a tad shocked, as younglings this small should not be capable of such strong flame.

“Careful! You’ll melt the place to the ground!”

I looked around quickly, searching for something to feed the tiny annoying creature. Asthylious looked at me curiously. After a moment, I found a nest of Mint Beetles hidden underneath the great white root of a tree.

“You’re in luck Child Asthylious - Mint Beetles are by far my favourite snack.”

I pierced one of the largest of them with my talon and brought it close to Asthylious for inspection. After much giggling and squirming the child finally ate the beetle.

“More?” Asthylious flapped her wings.

After several more Mint Beetles, I noticed the child starting to nod off.

“No, no, no, you cannot sleep at a time like this,” but it was too late. The child drooped her head and rested it upon the hard ground, instantly shrouded in deep sleep.

Oh, perfect.

I snorted. Resigned, I tip-toed towards the edge of one of the more irregularly shaped pools. I stared down at my obscured reflection in the oddly coloured ice. The pouch on my leg made its presence known, heavy, I imagine, from years of attachment. I reached into the pouch and removed the almond shaped scale, pinching it between my talons. Without another thought, I placed my mother’s last scale in the middle of the irregular pond. It rested effortlessly on the ice as if it had always belonged.

“Asthylious! Asthylious!” An unfamiliar and panicked voice broke through the silence of the forest. I looked up from my reverie to see a large dragon, the largest I had ever seen, enter through the opening into the clearing. She stood gloriously on the other side of the ocher ponds, her eyes fixed on the sleeping form of her lost child beside me. From head to tail, the dragon was covered in the brightest of red pigmented fur.