Chapter 3
Thrasik slid through the undergrowth of the dying forest with ease.
The leaves barely crunching under his large underbelly scales.
He kept his angled head ducked, spying carefully on the clumsy man-thing crawling up the decaying tree.
The wind carried a scent past the slits on his snout, forcing his pupils to dilate.
His arms flexed as claw tipped fingers burrowed into the soil.
Hunger flickered along his broad split tongue as it flitted forward to taste the air.
This could be his chance. His one opportunity.
A snicker shivered from the depths of his chest as the man-thing shook in the tree like a creature gone mad.
Its white hair splintering into panicked sections as a fruit from the top of the vegetation fell.
The crunch of bone and cartilage met his ears, causing the delicate spines along his head and nape to perk up on high alert.
A sharp noise drifted from the man-thing.
He peered onward as it managed to climb down and placed the fruit into a handwoven basket.
His glower scanned the back of the figure as it bent over.
Something gnawed at him internally from the sight.
Saliva pooled in his mouth, causing him to swallow hard and divert his attention off to the side as the figure sat to examine its legs.
Even from his distance he could tell there was injury forming.
The type of injury that would mark a doomed prey from a herd.
He gazed back at his thick tail, wondering what having legs felt like.
Surely they hindered this species. There often seemed to be older ones with ever-existing injuries relating to their legs.
His kind were built on nothing but muscle, making these man-things seem weak in every sense.
Even in old age, his elders would slather oils and balms on their scales to calm irritation or inflammation and still be able to fight against the youngest with ease.
That hasn’t seemed the case for this other species.
Curious on the difference, as a child Thrasik often picked up a snake and tried asking why it hadn’t grown arms and a proper face like his people did.
The elders told stories of how certain old-age dragons would bless their people along the lineages as appreciation for their worship and duties.
That’s apparently how they grew into the beings they are today.
Though, he wasn’t sure how much of that he believed.
A soft hum drifted through the air as the man-thing stood and began walking down a path marked by footprints indented in the leaves.
There didn’t seem to be a true reason for the humming.
It increased his curiosity as he viewed it as nothing more than a way to draw attention to an already injured target.
An unknowing and easy target for him especially.
The sky began to darken and revealed small twinkling stars behind the dwindling clouds.
This made his task immensely easier as over the years he learned the man-things have poor night vision.
Somehow, he’d never managed to find one this far from its home.
Nor out this late. This was a rare opportunity and not one he was going to miss, regardless of its injuries and whatever sympathy might lurk in the depths of his current lackluster heart.
He followed his target for a good while.
It seemed to be in some sort of trance. Odd for such a thing to zone out in this area.
Slithering to the side of its pathway, he tried to decipher the look on its face through the underbrush.
Its green eyes hazed over as though lost in another world.
Something about its face seemed otherworldly, almost beautiful.
He hadn’t seen a man-thing with those odd pointed ears before.
None of the others had hair that brilliant white either.
This one was absolutely different and he was going to figure out why.
Leaves rustled behind Thrasik, breaking him of his pseudo adoration.
He whipped around, outstretching his arms and raising back on his tail. Nothing ever got the upper hand of him before and he wasn’t about to let this be the first time.
Scratching followed heavy snorts right before a short blur of gray fur hurled his direction. He coiled back and braced for impact, flaring the scaled flaps on the sides of his neck and hissing as his fangs viciously sprawled open.
As soon as the blur slammed into him, he flung it into the air and forced it against a hollow tree.
The trunk cracked at the impact, exploding noise into the quiet night.
His tail thrashed behind to gain leverage as it swished to wrap tightly around the creature.
Two dirty tusks jutted from the snout of the hairy boar as another two curled outward from its lower jaw, thrashing in attempt to gore what it could reach.
Something was wrong with this creature. Its body jolted and jerked in an abnormal fashion.
Thrasik clamped his hand around its mouth as he perked with realization his initial prey might be startled by all this excess noise.
He forced his entire weight on the boar, causing everything to become still in that moment.
He lowered his jaw to the ground and gazed out to barely see the legs of the man-thing through the brush in front of them.
It appeared to be watching. Muscles clenched, his lungs screamed for air as he held his breath until the man-thing turned away.
His kind weren’t often found to be hunting the furred wildlife.
Typically they fished from the ocean near their home or they hunted the feathered creatures that roamed the plains.
Disgust filled his features at the stench spilling from the boar as pustules slowly oozed from exertion.
It was a decent size, he noticed, as it took the majority of his thick tail and body to keep it held down.
Its crazed eyes were wild. Strange bulbous flesh peppered across its face.
It would become nothing but a danger to himself and the man-thing should he let it free.
He removed his hand to brace on the ground, immediately regretting the decision as a high pitched squeal erupted from the creature.
Before he could invoke any further reason not to, he sharply squeezed his tail.
Liquid shot forward, splattering the vegetation in front of the boar’s snout and splaying underneath onto the path.
Thrasik dropped the boar as though it seared his flesh.
Recoiling into himself and covering his maw at the horrid smell of the liquid.
It began to bubble along the leaves like fetid acid.
Bile rose to the back of his throat as he started to over-salivate, the excess drool leaking through his rows of fangs to the ground below.
He had to get away from this mess and fast. Without considering his initial target, he charged through the undergrowth and vines before him.
Ripping and slamming himself against trees and limbs in a futile attempt to be rid of the horrid stench.
Thrasik leaped through the air, slithering onto a limb strong enough to support his weight as he scanned to find a dense enough bush to roll around in.
His desperation overtaking his senses to get the smell of the horrid boar off his scales.
A surprisingly healthy fern stretched its furls out, eagerly dancing and calling to him just on the other side of the tree he coiled around.
He slithered down, leaving his tail wrapped around the tree for support, and curled his arms around the fern.
Burying his face in its depths and nosing the core as he inhaled its fresh earthy scent, his body relaxed.
Finally correcting his senses, he peered toward the path to check on the man-thing. Its vivid and distressed eyes met his in pure fear. His gut shrank in realization.
Fuck, don’t run.
Of course, it ran. As fast as an injured creature could. He cursed under his breath and released the fern to charge forward after it, accidentally snapping the tree his tail was wrapped around.
He was forgetting how to hunt in this damned forest. All he wanted was to capture this man-thing and make it talk to his village!
Or maybe he wanted to keep it for himself and test a few experiments since it seemed every damn elder in the village had their chance to speak with other tribes of differing species. Why couldn’t he? Why was that so hard?
He growled and launched himself over branches to give chase.
Lemon hued eyes sharply darting after his prey, watching as it allowed branches and leaves to slap and smack into its face.
Blood speckled some leaves as he rubbed his nose against them on his pursuit.
A faint ripping noise echoed back to Thrasik.
He cocked his head, angling his hunt toward the sound just in time to watch as the man-thing’s foot caught on an angled root and launched it forward.
A small yelp danced in the air as the wounded being rolled down the slope.
He burst through the treeline, black oil slick scaled arms braced on different trunks and watched as it tumbled and bounced while the basket flew through the air.
Sharp boulders speckled throughout the small gorge, making his face crease together.
His scales puffed as he saw a hefty ragged boulder sitting at the end of the being’s tumble.
Bracing his stomach, he coiled and jumped down after it.
Though he was just a breaths distance away, he couldn’t risk this being dying right when the perfect situation had fallen into his hands.
He’d never forgive himself if he lost this opportunity.
Luckily, Thrasik’s size allowed him to close the distance between the two as he shoved a hand behind its head seconds before slamming into the boulder.