In the weeks and months that followed I spent as much time as a dragon as possible; becoming human only long enough to get my work done, then it was back home and off with the clothes and on with the scales, riding the local storms at every opportunity, eating their lightning. On the occasions I wasn't either working or a dragon I was in the library going through every piece of literature I could find about dragons; trying to figure out just what I was, and where I had come from. I found a creature in Eastern mythology called a Shen Lung at one point; but although it comes closer than anything else, it still doesn't quite describe me. I'm still searching for my pedigree, and I don't think I'll figure it out anytime soon.
The agony of transformation lessened with each transition, gradually leveling out to where it became quite bearable, and almost dangerously easy. Sometimes I catch myself drifting across the line at the worst times, and I don't dare lose my temper anymore. After long experimentation I finally discovered how to breathe fire. The flame's an incredible shade of blue, and so hot it cuts more than it burns. I enjoy playing with it; sometimes flaming just to see the color.
Naturally, all of this didn't come without drawbacks. My dragon instincts are very strong, and those passions have more than once come very close to drowning my humanity. Even in the most mundane of situations I find my personality colored more and more by the dragon, and sometimes I wonder if my human side won't eventually be consumed, and if so, should I care?
I've nearly gone feral on several occasions; the first time when one of my evening flights brought me across a herd of cattle. Without even thinking about it I swung my head down and grabbed a terrified steer, my fangs sinking deep into its sides and the blood gushing down my throat. The taste of it was like some incredible drug, shocking through me, making me thirst for more. I tore the steer apart, gobbling it down greedily, then hunched my wings and launched myself after the fleeing herd.
It wasn't until I awoke the next morning, swag-bellied and coiled within the shallow cave that I had gouged out of a jungle hillside that I finally began to come back to my senses. There were other occasions, usually occurring when I was storm-riding; during each occurrence somehow forgetting that I was human, once.
It's a constant effort to keep myself under control. The feral episodes receded once I learned the warning signs, as well as the sudden flares of wild temper, but the more subtle colorations of personality and attitude continue to progress, and I increasingly wonder if I should fight it at all.
That old draconic personality of mine makes me wonder: Am I a human who turns into a dragon, or a dragon who becomes a human? Did the storms seek me out, or did I draw them to me? Frankly, the latter seems more plausible on both counts, and if so, then resisting what is happening to me is wrong.
For now, though, things are going well. Sometimes I have problems with accommodating this new creature I've become; I suspect I always will, in a world dominated by my foster species. But if this is all the price I have to pay for the flying, the storm-riding, and this magnificent body, then by damn, I'll pay it with a smile.
Sundays in the tropics are incredibly dull. The locals are all in church or on the beach, and everything's closed until Monday. Even the Bad Guys take the day off. Nothing to do except lie around, catch up on one's mail and read a few books. I'd started reading ones with fictional dragons just to compare myself to them and was sitting in my hangar office reading as the day waned. It was a fairly good book, but unfortunately, the plot was a little transparent to someone in as paranoid a profession as mine. I liked the way the author treated dragons, though...
...But I just don't get this thing about caves: Why in the world would any intelligent, winged creature tolerate being cooped up in some dank cave, where one of one's greatest assets becomes nothing more than an annoying hindrance?
I shrugged and sighed, then propped my feet up on my desk. Humans. A pause, then I laughed at myself. But then again, what would life be like without them? Boring as hell, I'd think...
A few more hours and I finished the book, put it away, then headed back to my quarters. I shuffled out the airfield gate, waving good night to the bored MP. As I walked, I looked up into the sky. It was a beautiful night, one of the rare occasions during the rainy season that one had a completely clear sky, and a full moon to boot. I gazed upwards at all those stars as I walked, then suddenly realized that I'd never flown under a full moon.
Well, why not?
I grinned to myself, then altered my course, heading uphill into the base housing area. The ground rose steeply as I passed through Family Housing, and the hulking black masses of the twin hills that flanked the eastern side of the base loomed ahead.
My latest route up into the jungle forced me to pass through one house's back yard, unfortunately the home of a noisy little grey and white dog of an indeterminate breed. It'd made an ungodly racket the first several times I went by; on one occasion nearly causing an embarrassing confrontation, but then the dog and I had a nice little get-together one night while the family was out. These days, the mutt simply crouches in a corner of the yard just as far away from me as he can get, and lets me by without so much as a whimper.
It was with some small relief that I stepped into the undergrowth undetected . . . then I frowned as I noticed the way leading up the hill: I was beginning to beat a path. Time to change the route again...
A short time later I pulled up just short of my tiny clearing on the far side of the hill and carefully checked the little items I'd rigged about its perimeter. Untouched: I relaxed slightly. Had any been disturbed, I would have immediately left and never come back.
I double-checked the last of them, then moved to the edge of the forest and sat, pulling off my shoes. A strong current of anticipation ran through me as I stripped, then carefully sealed my clothing into the dark green plastic bag I'd concealed here several weeks earlier. I paused, gathering myself, then closed my eyes and concentrated.
There was the usual feeling of pressure, then sudden release. I felt my muscles writhe beneath my skin like a sack full of snakes, and the dull, nauseating ache of bones bending into new shapes.
Another moment, then my now-taloned hands hit the ground before me with a thump. Keeping my eyes closed for a moment longer, I luxuriated in the sensations flooding in from what I consider my true form. I stretched sinuously, my back and neck arching, tail coiling, my wings spread to their fullest extent. A strange ecstasy welled up within me as my body tried to expand to its proper size, but I quickly put a stop to that.
Finally I opened my golden eyes and looked down at my metallic scales. I ran my hands down them, reveling in their cool smoothness. My mane jangled as I shook myself, then swung my head around to carefully inspect my huge silvery wings. I flexed my finger-struts gently, stretched the webs, then stepped out into the open and looked about me.
The forest was clear. I carefully scanned the sky, both my long forked tongue and my snout testing the wind. All clear. Good. With no further delay I crouched, then launched myself upwards. My wings sliced upwards, my double pectorals contracted powerfully, and the ground sank silently away. Again, I felt that wild surge of triumph that always boils up inside me when I take to the air; swelling within me until I felt as if I would burst from sheer joy. Flying! I am FLYING!
Safely clear of the trees, I cut sharply to the right to avoid a cluster of homes below. As I swung past the rotating beacon perched atop the hill, I hissed a quiet greeting to the hulking ebony shapes roosting along the tower's upper railings. The huge black vultures croaked back sleepily, then settled back down as I soared away.
The grim creatures had been my first acquaintances in my new life, first tolerating, then accepting my clumsy, silver-grey form in their midst. I'd learned much from them, to the point that I no longer needed my beloved storms to lift my bulk free of the ground. I owed them a lot, and they were always welcome at my kills.
I angled east, heading for one of the first things they'd taught me: There's a constant wind that blows from the north down the cut of the canal, and this next hill's northeastern flank deflects a goodly portion of it upwards into a massive updraft.. Right... About....
Here. I felt a powerful surge within the webs of my wings and the ground began to rapidly dwindle. I circled, keeping myself within that rising column of air until I was high enough to be safe from curious eyes below.
Pulling out of the column I headed for the interior, and soon the lights of civilization were well behind me. Safe now, I felt that delicious feeling of expansion ripple through me as I permitted myself to rapidly swell to full size.
My mane prickled, lifting slightly as I felt my way from one thermal or updraft to the next. On occasions I wouldn't find any, and would reach out and nudge one of the large masses of warm, wet air lurking near the ground. It'd obligingly destabilize, begin to rise, faster and faster as the air about it cooled. Then I'd reach it; the rising thermal boosting me upwards as I passed through, heading for the next.
I looked back at the newborn cumulus cloud poufing up into existence behind me. This was a still-developing talent of mine; an outgrowth of my ability to draw and absorb lightning, and I had to be very careful with it. The atmosphere down here in the tropics literally seethes with thermal energy seeking an outlet, and it's very easy to start something that you cannot stop. Once, several months earlier, I got careless with this power, and the wild storm that resulted had very nearly washed my little base right off the face of the earth.
Onward I flew, my huge wings casting a vast shadow across the moonlit jungle below, the terrain quickly growing more broken. I had never been this way before, and I looked about below myself as I went, scanning new territory.
This was wonderful. I rarely had the chance to fly in clear skies, and the view was beyond belief. I was high enough that both oceans were visible to me. The moon and stars wheeled above me, seemingly brighter and clearer than I had ever seen them before.
I tilted my wings and swung my tail, turning southwest. There wasn't supposed to be much out this way except for the occasional farm or ranch, and I didn't feel like feeding tonight, so this looked like the ideal area to just mess around.
I bared my teeth in a reptilian grin, then slid into a dizzying series of lazy-eights. I intentionally stalled myself on the tenth repetition, then dove, building up speed, suddenly pulling up into a wing-wrenching inside loop. I worked on my aileron rolls, trying to see how many times I could spin on my long axis before losing control...
I stalled again, recovered, then flew in more mundane manner for several minutes, catching my breath. I watched the jungle slide by below as I remembered a certain young man who'd hung on an airport fence years ago, watching the aircraft, possessed by a strange, all-devouring hunger for flight...
The corners of my hard mouth turned upwards slightly. If I could have appeared before that young man as I now was, what would he have given for my wings?
I rolled inverted, then flew on my back, basking in the moonlight for several minutes before righting myself. Snort! What wouldn't he have given?!? I silently laughed at myself, then sighed and watched my shadow skip the treetops. So many years wasted; spent plodding along the dusty ground, tortured by strange hungers no one could understand, ignorant of the truth that would have set me free--
WHAM!
Impact! Collision! I staggered in the air, shaking my swimming head as I fought to right myself. What the hell was that? What had I hit?
WHAM!
I grunted in pain at the blow across the small of my back, my dorsal spines snapping erect too late. I swung my head about, this time getting a glimpse of my attacker.
A strange sight greeted me: A green, iridescent ribbon of a body framed by huge wings silhouetted itself against the sky for a moment. Its snakelike head swung to look at me, then gave vent to a shrill hissing scream as it dove at me again.
That scream choked off into a startled squawk as I breathed azure flame at the apparition and the creature twisted frantically aside, leaving behind a wisp of smoke and the stench of burnt feathers. A pause, then, as we circled each other warily, and I finally got a good look at my adversary.
A long, cylindrical body, snakelike save for four stubby legs tucked up against its sides, both body and birdlike wings covered with opalescent feathers of an incredible shade of green. Two baleful eyes as golden as my own glared at me from a serpent-like head adorned with a flamboyant feathered crest.
A memory stirred, then surfaced. Kulkulcan: The Feathered Serpent of Central American legend. I was facing this region's version of a dragon! I backed my wings, then slowly began to edge away. I didn't want to fight another dragon. God knows, I suspect we're few enough as it is without us killing each other. . . .
Instantly the quetzalcoatl bored in with a triumphant hiss. I tried to warn it off with my flame, but she avoided it easily this time, her whip-like tail dealing my belly a stunning blow in passing.
. . . .Yes, I said "her." I'd caught the creature's scent this time, and now I really didn't want to fight. But she wasn't going to give me the option. Scarcely had I begun to recover from this attack than she did a low, raking pass along my topside, her claws glancing harmlessly off my metallic scales. I used the momentary respite to twist away from her and dive for the treetops with her hot on my tail.
The wind rapidly built to a crescendo roar as the jungle reached for me, then just short of catastrophe I suddenly backed my wings, my adversary overshooting me as I whipstalled and dropped into the trees.
A moment's concentration, and the deadly plummet suddenly became a gentle fall as most of my mass vanished. I pulled up, then perched my now-tiny self upon a tree branch and watched through the overhead foliage as my pursuer wrenched herself around, then came back, searching the jungle beneath her, her bafflement showing in a hissing screech of rage.
She circled for a few minutes, looking for me, then evidently gave up and flew away in a westerly direction. After a few moments I followed, quietly fluttering from treetop to treetop in her wake.
A few minutes travel like this and she abruptly dropped from sight. I hesitated, then began to carefully approach the spot where she'd disappeared, eventually coming upon a small, ragged clearing. I studied it from my branch, then spied the last few feet of her tail vanishing into a large, square opening in the side of what I'd mistaken for a small hill.
I paused, considering, then began to skirt the clearing, approaching the dark hole from the side. Soon I found myself slithering over huge blocks of cut stone that lay scattered as if strewn about by some enormous child. Some sort of ancient ruin. Too far north for Incan. Mayan? Probably. Perhaps some far-flung outpost of fabled Copan. If so, the irony was delicious. . . .
Eventually I reached the edge of the opening. I waited there for several long minutes, listening, hearing only the occasional rustle of feathers from within. Carefully I slipped inside, ready to zoom to full size at the barest hint of attack.
Nothing happened. My eyes quickly adapted to the gloom within and I found myself gazing at a heap of branches, strips of cloth, plastic, whatever, all jammed or woven together to form a huge nest. Within the nest my fine feathered foe lay coiled, her head just inside the chamber's opening, eyes watching the skies. And carefully nestled within her coils. . . .
I blinked, stared, then nodded to myself. Now I could understand a little better why she had attacked me. The three eggs were huge, each almost double the size of a footlocker, each a pale grey-white in color.
I looked at them for several long minutes, unfamiliar emotions running through me, then I turned to study their feral mother. At first she seemed as stunningly beautiful as before, but then I began to notice things; like the deeply sunken eyes and the way her ribs showed. In places, her plumage was beginning to fall out. This creature was not many days away from death by starvation.
Silently I slunk away, leaving the cave with almost as many questions as I'd had when I entered. Why wouldn't she hunt? Where was her mate? I shook my head in annoyance as I fluttered away, quickly regaining size as the clearing receded behind me. Useless questions. The only one that mattered was what I was going to do about it.
Thirty minutes later the bleeding corpse of a freshly killed steer thudded to the ground just outside the cave. There was a long pause, then from the vantage point of a nearby tree branch I watched her as she cautiously emerged from her nest, her eyes flicking about suspiciously, but never straying long from what lay before her. Another moment, then she had gripped the steer in her jaws and with a series of frantic jerks was dragging it back into the cave. Both disappeared, and soon loud tearing and crunching noises were emanating from inside.
Okay; my good deed for the day. I spread my wings and flitted for home.