Chapter 13 #2
Everyone slept in the chamber with Mina last night, just in case she needed us.
The limestone walls amplified every sound—each breath, each shift of massive dragon bodies against stone.
Every time Mina shifted, the ancients woke up and leapt into action, expecting it to be time.
By the time morning came, most of us feel half dead, our eyes gritty with exhaustion, muscles aching from the tension of anticipation.
I wake up this morning laying between Mina’s front legs in my displacer beast form, her body radiating heat like a living furnace.
The scent of her scales—ozone and spicy—filling my nostrils with each breath.
Honestly, I don’t remember how I got here or when I shifted.
As I look around, there’s a half dozen dead deer scattered across the chamber floor, their glazed eyes reflecting the torchlight.
Apparently chomped and killed by Mina but not eaten.
The metallic tang of blood hangs in the air, mingling with the earthier scent of the chamber. I shift back, bones realigning with soft pops, and climb over her foreleg. My hand sliding against the rough, warm scales, to look at the devastation.
“She’s refusing to eat. Is she okay?” I look at Klauth, my voice rough with sleep, worry gnawing at my insides. The abandoned carcasses, with their torn flesh and exposed bone, create a macabre scene.
“It’s because she’s in the early stages of labor.
If she eats, it may make her want to puke.
” His voice holds none of my concern; instead, he’s smiling, the expression softening his usually stern features.
He looks at the dead deer, then over at me, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
“She will definitely eat after the eggs are laid.” Klauth walks down towards Mina’s tail, his footsteps echoing in the chamber, and smiles wider.
There is the proof of what’s happening. The silver scales have darkened to a deep gunmetal gray, and she looks swollen, the skin between her scales stretched taut.
“How long do you think we have to wait?” I stare at the way her body has changed, the visible tension in her muscles, then back over at Klauth and now Abraxis, who’s running around like someone set his ass on fire.
His bare feet slapping against the stone as he gathers supplies, his breath coming in quick, shallow pants.
“Hours,” Klauth answers, but the word has barely left his lips when Mina shifts position with a low, rumbling groan that vibrates through the floor beneath my feet. We watch her stomach tense, the scales rippling like a wave across her belly. “Correction. Any time now.”
Thauglor’s head whips up at those words, his eyes widening as he stares at Mina.
He walks over, his movements deliberate and calm despite the tension in the air, and shifts behind her.
The sound of his transformation fills the chamber—cracking bones, stretching skin, the rustle of wings unfurling.
He rests his wing on her side over her wing, the leathery membranes overlapping with a soft whisper.
He then places his head over her shoulder, holding her dragoness.
He rumbles softly to her, the sound like distant thunder, soothing and primal.
Mina lifts her head, her movements slow and heavy, and lays it over her forelegs, her breath coming in short, harsh bursts that send warm gusts of air through the chamber.
I snap several pictures of how he’s curled around her with his head on her ribs, the click of my phone camera seeming obscenely loud in the reverent hush that has fallen.
We watch as Mina curls her lips, baring her teeth occasionally, a hiss of pain escaping between her dagger-like fangs.
The scent of her sweat—sharper and more pungent than usual—fills the air.
“Can we do anything? She looks like she’s in pain.” My voice cracks with concern, my eyes moving from Mina to Klauth. My question stops Abraxis in his tracks, his face paling beneath his tan as he looks at Mina’s obvious discomfort.
“Unfortunately, it being her first birthing, no. The next clutch will pass easier.” Klauth moves to check on her progress, bending down to examine the area beneath her tail.
Suddenly, there’s a gush of fluid—warm, viscous, and smelling strongly of minerals and something uniquely dragonic.
He rushes backwards out of the way, his feet splashing in the puddle.
“Birth is imminent at this point.” He throws down towels to wipe up the fluid, the fabric quickly becoming saturated, and Mina rumbles something to him, the sound vibrating through my chest. “Exactly why I’m doing it,” he responds to her.
“What did she say?” I glance from Klauth as he’s cleaning up, his movements efficient and practiced, then over to Mina, whose eyes are half-closed in concentration, her claws flexing against the stone.
“She wants me to use the soaked towels to scent the eggs she made of clay.” Klauth says as he takes the first towel and lays it over the first fake egg, the clay surface immediately darkening with moisture, then takes the second towel to soak, the fluid making a sickening squelching sound as he presses the fabric into it.
The sound of Mina’s talons scraping on the stone sends a shiver down my spine—like nails on a chalkboard, but deeper, more visceral. I turn to look at her and I see the start of the first egg, a glossy black curve appearing beneath her tail. My heart leaps into my throat.
“Abraxis, the first egg is coming out...” I scream, my voice echoing off the stone walls. He and Klauth stop what they’re doing and come running over, their footsteps thundering across the chamber floor.
Mina growls, the sound low and pained, and Thauglor lifts his head and uses his chin to hold her, trying to comfort her.
The scent of her exertion fills the air—a mixture of sweat, musk, and something metallic.
She strains and arches her body, muscles rippling beneath her scales with the effort.
Her talons dig into the stone again, carving deep furrows that make all of us stiffen at the sound of it, a high-pitched screech that sets my teeth on edge.
The first black egg slips free with a wet, sliding sound, landing on the soft bedding with a muffled thump.
We stare at it, its surface gleaming in the torchlight, still slick with birthing fluids.
“What do we do?” I whisper, my voice barely audible over Mina’s labored breathing.
I want to see it, drawn to the miracle of life before us.
But I’m also afraid, my stomach twisting with anxiety.
What if it’s a dud? What if there’s something wrong with it?
The weight of possibility—both wonderful and terrible—makes my chest tight.
“Abraxis, go get the egg,” Klauth says and motions to the large black egg sitting near Mina, its surface reflecting the torchlight like polished obsidian.
“I thought you said it would be the size of a watermelon. It’s way bigger than a watermelon,” I whisper the sentence as Mina growls through the next contraction, the sound making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
The egg is massive, easily twice the size I had imagined, its ebony surface unmarked and perfect.
Klauth glares at me, his eyes flashing with irritation, and shrugs his shoulders, using towels to wipe up the extra fluids to put on the other fake egg.
The smell is becoming overwhelming—rich and earthy and primal.
“It could be anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour before the next one comes,” he says, his voice calmer than the situation seems to warrant.
Abraxis walks slowly towards the egg, his movements careful and reverential, and carefully picks it up.
The shell gleams wetly in his hands, fluid dripping between his fingers to patter on the stone floor.
It takes several minutes before he smiles; the expression transforming his face, erasing the worry lines that have been etched there for days.
“It’s viable,” he announces, his voice thick with emotion.
He turns, beaming up at Mina’s dragoness, tears glistening in his eyes, catching the light like tiny stars.
Hearing those two words come out of his mouth takes a weight off of my chest, a breath I didn’t realize I was holding escaping in a rush.
Mina said two eggs. If she’s correct, that means there’s one more left.
I find myself moving closer to Abraxis, drawn by some instinct I can’t name, wanting to see this miracle for myself—this beginning of a new chapter in all our lives.