Chapter 27 #2
But his curiosity overcame his caution. He followed the noise.
It weakened as he approached. Perhaps the Other was overcome with exhaustion. He hurried on, despite all the cautions, despite everything he’d been warned about by Naer-Vera. He had to help, if he could.
After a few more dragon lengths, he found a small bundle on a rocky outcropping.
The persistent noise had fallen to a soft whimper, and within his mind, the call for help grew fainter.
He hurried forward. Peering over the bundle, he saw a cold white face, with red spots on exposed cheeks.
Its eyes were slowly closing and opening as it fought the cold and the snow which fell onto it.
Its thoughts must have been trying to reach out to him before, but now those impressions had become hazy.
He reached out to touch it with his front claw.
He felt the cold emanating from its body as though it had the strength of the wind.
He retracted his claw. The Other caught sight of him and let out a pitifully brief cry before lapsing into silence.
It seemed to have kicked free of most of its coverings, which lay scattered around it.
It lay with its body exposed to the freezing air.
It was also perilously close to the edge of the rock.
He peered over and saw the long drop to the glacier below.
He felt sure the drop would kill this little thing.
He looked all around him for whoever had brought the bundle to this desolate spot but could see nothing. The tiny Other was alone.
It had stopped crying. Its eyes were closed, but it was still breathing.
His mind was free from its thoughts. Skaldi had never seen such a small Other before.
It fascinated him. It looked just like those who dwelled within his cave, but it was just a hatchling.
Although, it seemed much more feeble than drekki hatchlings.
It seemed unable to move on its own. How had it come to be here?
His eyes alighted on a collection of prints in the snow. They seemed to lead here and then away from the ridge. His stomach twisted in horror. The bundle had been left on purpose. Why? He couldn’t comprehend why an Other would abandon their young in this way.
He reached forward and picked the bundle up in his giant front claws. He hobbled away from the wind-exposed outcropping while holding the bundle in his one front claw.
He retraced his steps, sweeping away his giant claw prints in the snow with his tail as he went. He didn’t want one of the Others to find his prints and wonder where they came from.
Once he was back in his hollow, he quickly settled back down and studied the tiny bundle.
Its features were perfect. One of its tiny claws had curled around the tip of one of his talons with a grip tighter than he thought possible for something so small.
He couldn’t just leave it here. It would surely die.
He made a decision. He’d warm it and take it back with him when the sun rose.
Decision made, he wrapped his head and the bundle under his left wing, to protect it from the screaming wind and steady snowfall. Resolutely, he ignored the pain shooting along his back. His pain was nothing to the needs of this small, abandoned Other.
Morning arrived, eventually, in a profusion of pale pinks and purples, stealing silently across the land.
The seeking streams of colour missed the glacier entirely, keeping it in darkness for longer.
The wind had stopped; the snowstorm had blown itself out.
Shaking the snow loose from his giant body, while cradling the bundle, he stretched his wings and leapt awkwardly into the frigid sky.
By the time the sun had skimmed over the horizon, he was already landing on his home ledge, piled high with freshly fallen snow.
Once there, he was unsure what to do. The bundle had woken on arrival and made a pitiful noise. Why had he brought it back with him?
Its whimpers turned to howls. He wondered what it wanted.
It was certainly warm enough now. He stood there, confused, for some time.
Skaldi could feel its panic building, and beneath it, hunger.
He stared at it, and it batted at his claw, while all the time screaming.
He turned his head to look at it from a different angle, seeing it for the first time in full light with its tufty hair and bright blue eyes, but it continued to scream. He wished he knew what to do.
The sunlight seeped slowly onto his ledge, distracting him with the glistening view of the frozen glacier in front of him.
The cries abruptly stopped. Only when he looked down did he understand why.
One of the Others had come to look at the source of the noise and now cradled the bundle in their arms.
It was the same one he’d met on the day of his predecessor’s death.
He tried to look encouraging but wasn’t sure if his expression reflected his hopes that they’d care for the hatchling.
The Other slowly backed away, taking the bundle with them.
Skaldi hoped it meant the Other would look after it.
Moments later, he received the flash of an image of the hatchling being fed and warmed before a massive fire.
He retreated from the ledge and into his cave as full sunrise shaded his world white and blue. He needed to consider what he’d done. And why he’d done it. He needed not to feel compelled to fly his land again. Not yet.