Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Heart of the Forest (Atroxa & Loveraiden)

Atroxa

Star
Joined
Mar 16, 2013
Location
USA
The forest was ancient, stretching further back in time than any living thing could recall, save for the eldest trees. Even they were only saplings as it formed though, and the spirits that lived within them had no memory of those early times before they gained consciousness. So to all who lived in or around the forest, it had always been there, a permanent fixture in the landscape, sitting at the base of a mighty mountain chain, running up the slopes of a few of it's peaks but mostly pooling at it's feet. It was expansive, a place where those who were unfamiliar with it's paths could easily get lost and never be seen again. Few ventured so far under the shadows of leafy canopy, many considering it a sacred and forbidden place.

Even the Elves before them had regarded the forest with reverence and respect, before they moved over the mountain range and continued on into unknown lands. To humans it would likely be strange that the Elves so easily gave up their homes and left, some remained, but most did not. Elves though were long-lived and wise, able to look at the patterns of history and apply it to their present and future. So when the humans arrived and saw the both creative and destructive potential for their race, the Elves left the lands to them, rather than fight for them and potentially doom their entire race. To go to war with the humans would be like going to war with the ocean, wave after wave would be thrown at them, never ending, until they were worn down and erased from the annals of history.

So the Elves left, leaving only a few behind, and while those that remained diverged into many different paths, one that stayed took on a life of solitude and protection. The humans, in their determined need to own and control everything in their sight, destroyed many things, and killed many creatures. The forest still stood though, and became a bastion for the creatures that had once roamed the land so freely in the days of the Elves. A few still lived outside the forest, but many retreated inside it's border. Together they worked to keep it safe, none thought worked so hard as the Elf who had taken on the duty of protecting the forest.

A Druid, Guardian of Nature, kept the forest as pure as possible, trying to keep the damage done by humans as low as possible. Most stayed away, but some come to the forest trying to cut down trees for their timber, or hoping to kill one of the animals for food or pelt, or worse they were after one of the more magical inhabitants, even if they were intelligent, to capture as a slave or to kill them for some part of their body that was prized for magical qualities. That had been Valaethia's task for some thousand years now, protecting the forest from the encroaching humans, it had become as much a part of her as her own heart, in tuned enough that she could sense the slightly disturbance, aided by the various creatures of the forest that acted as guards and look outs, mostly smaller creatures like birds and squirrels who could watch without being noticed.

When not dealing with a human threat, she was handling the politics of the forest. It was not naturally meant to sustain such a diverse and dense population of creatures, so it took careful balancing to keep the peace. The satyrs, centaurs, dryads, kelpies, and other various residences were constantly vying for resources and space, and war would have broken out long ago if it were not for Valaethia's constant attention, acting as a neutral force to guide and protect her charges.

Valaethia ((imagine this with red hair and gold eyes)) was a beautiful as any of her people, with soft yet refined features, wavy red hair, and bright golden eyes. Her garb was simple and made from the forest, nothing like the fine silks she had once worn when the Elves still ruled these lands. She had the perpetual look of being in her early 20's, as it would be many centuries yet before she began to show any true sign of aging and eventually die. And she had dedicated herself to protecting the forest until her last breath. So much of herself was in this place that if it were destroyed, surely she would die with it.

Today, things were quiet, and as she walked out of her home, made out of a large natural hollow high up in a giant oak in the middle of the forest, she thought that it would be a good day to do the things she normally didn't have time to do. This included checking in with some of the more distinguished inhabitants of the forest. At the top of her list was a dragoness named Imizael, who lived in a cave high on the slopes of the mountain. Normally, Valeathia would see her every few days, flying over the forest, either hunting among the trees or on her way to hunt in the landscape surrounding the forest. She had often told the dragon not to wander far from the safety of the forest, but she knew that lately she had begun to grow bold, which was unwise as she had a clutch of eggs incubating among the hoard of gold and jewels that dragons gathered as a nest of sorts.

Valaethia sighed and stretched, her arms over her head, her lean and lithe body working out the last snatches in her muscles, before she shook off the last vestiges of sleep and leaped from the branch that she had walked out onto. Through centuries of training, Valaethia was able to take the form of many animals, and she now took the shape of a hawk, her feathers as red as her hair had been. She soared on the wind, looking down over the forest as she did, monitoring the state of things, before banking up the slope of the mountain at the edge of the forest, ascending quickly on the updrafts. As she reached the mouth of Imizael's cave she landed, back in the form of an Elf, peering in cautiously. She was friends with the enormous dragon, but they were a territorial sort, and disliked uninvited guests.

“Imizael?” she called, hearing her own voice echoed back to her as it bounced off the cave walls. She waited, but there was no answer, perhaps she was out hunting? “Imizael, it's me, Valaethia!” she called again, louder this time, and then waited again. The Elf's pointed ears listened carefully for the sound of scale or claw against stone, but there was nothing but an oppressive, almost eerie silence. Valaethia felt a shiver run up her spine, something wasn't right, but she wasn't sure what it was until the wind shifted, and the smell of death reached her sensitive nose.

Valaethia's gold eyes went wide, “No,” she whispered and hurried inside, shouting the dragon's name. The smell thickened and she fought back the urge to gag, stopping suddenly at the sight that greeted her inside the cave. Imizael lay motionless, her once brilliant red scales now dull and lack luster. There were ways to preserve dragon skin and it's scale, which was often used to make nearly indestructible and fire proof armor, but it had to be done quickly and through magical means, if left on the body though, it rotted with the rest of the dragon's flesh.

The Elf stood staring for a few long moments, seeing with horror and disgust that among her numerous injuries, her head was missing, hewn off by whatever 'hero' had come here to claim her for glory or pay. Valaethia's head spun, she took every death hard, life was precious to the Elves, and one as old as Imizael was an especially sharp loss. Then she remembered the young lives the dragon had been guarding, and quickly climbed over her tail to get to the back of the cave, lifting her hand which began to glow with flames to provide her some light. The cave split off and she took the left, where Imizael kept her hoard, which served as a nest for her eggs. Most of the hoard was still there, she doubted that the dragon's murderer could have managed to take much with a dragon's head to haul, but he would likely want to return. She wouldn't let him.

The gold was of little concern to her, she would protect it because she wouldn't want that monster or anyone else to profit from Imizael's death, and because it was important to her, it was the eggs she was worried about though. Climbing up the slope of the massive pile of gold and jewels, she looked down into the depression that the female dragon had formed to hold her clutch. To Valaethia's dismay, the eggs were all shattered. Bits of bright shell were strewn about, with small hacked up bodies of nearly fully formed dragons laying among them. A few had their mother's bright red scales, others were golden, and a single green body lay among them, a recessive throw back carried by both parents. The Elf sank to her knees and wept, shaking in her grief.

Then she felt something, a small pull of life among all this death, and her head lifted, staring down into the depression. She nearly missed it, a golden egg, half buried in gold and jewels just under where she was sitting. It seemed that the knight had missed it, the egg no doubt being covered as he slid down into the nest. It would be easy to miss, the metallic shell blending in with the treasure it was buried in. Valaethia scrambled down the side and pulled the egg free, it was about the size of her torso, and would be too heavy for the average human to lift, but the Elf did so with some effort. It was warm to the touch, still alive.

Relief washed over the Elf and carefully she climbed out of the nest, carrying the egg in her arms as she left the cave and it's dead mother and siblings behind. Making her way down the mountain side and then to her tree took most of the day, Valaethia making it back as the sun began to sink behind the mountains, and setting the egg on her bed of furs and old silks left over from her days as a courtier in the Elven kingdom. She sighed as she set the egg down, laying a hand on it's shell, “It's alright little one, I'll keep you safe,” she told it resolutely.

Valaethia sat on the bed for the rest of the night, keeping close to the egg, she knew from the state of it's siblings' carcasses that it would hatch soon, so she talked to it and sang and played the various instruments she had, her flute and her lute being her favorites. The Elf desperately tried to erase any trauma it might endured during the slaughter. Finally though she put out the lights in her home and went to bed, curled up around the egg, enjoying the warmth it gave off, her chest pressed against the shell so that her heartbeat carried to the unborn dragon, letting it know it wasn't alone.
 
Dragons were once as popular as the flies around a carcass, every hue of color and every shine of metal. Beings of pure power and magic, they were frequently sought after for the magic in their blood, the strength in their scales, or the fame for their heads. This had caused dragons to dwindle in number and only the strongest and smartest were able to escape notice. But nothing was safe for too long from the human race, a short lived race that constant strove from more.

There is a legend passed down from mothers to their children, that one day dragons were supposed to stand aside these evil men. To help them make the world a better place for everything. This legend was what gave them the innate ability to change into a form that appeared more human.

Unfortunately, there was an egg that would not be getting this lesson, thanks to the same humans he was supposed to protect. To the untrained eye, it would appear as a large polished golden decoration, but the warm shell and small hum of a heartbeat is what set it apart from the rest. He never knew how lucky he was, being taken by the elven druid, only finding a new sense of heat and comfort from her voice. He could tell the voice was different from what he had assumed was his mother, but the feeling seemed the same.

Between the trauma of the attack, and moving from his warm nest, the hatching process had been accelerated. His scaled body was still soft, and his claws had only just began to harden. It was enough, however, for him to start scratching at the inside of his shell. Slowly he chiseled a small hole to the outside world, the sudden shock of air had sent his body into a hurried rage to escape. His mind spinning as his consciousness began to take full grasp of his actions. Soon the small chips began to fall as large chunks of shell, using his large head to push against the top until the top of his shell split and fell off. The young hatchling gasped for air and then released a high pitch squeel in replace of a growl. Brown eyes gleamed of an deep orange light as he tried to discover where he was and more importantly where the voice had come from.
 
Valaethia slept soundly for a while, though the tapping and scratching noises from inside the egg began to wake her slowly. The elf let out a bit of a groan, starting to stir, but when the egg suddenly broke and shook in her arms, she sat up, staring around wildly. It was dark and while her vision at night was good, it wasn't so good that she could make out perfectly what was going on. Though if she had to guess, the egg was hatching. She got up, lighting the latern beside her bed but only that one, not wanting to overwhelm the creature, and sat at the foot of the bed, watching the small creature. Valaethia wanted to help, but she knew she shouldn't, it was important for him to do this on his own, it was vital not only for physical strength but mental as well. There was much she would not be able to teach him that a dragon should know, but that one thing she knew he had to do on his own.

How she knew that the dragon was a he she wasn't sure, but when his eyes finally found her in the low light, she knew that it was a male. The elf tucked a bit of red hair behind her ear and moved a little closer, though not too close, he would need to come to her. “Well hello there,” she told him quietly after he let out that high pitch squeal, that birthing yelp that announced to the world that he was alive and now a part of it. Valeathia held out her hand, becoming him forward, out of the remains of his shell, “Come here,” she spoke softly, quietly, the way one might speak to a frightened animal. He didn't seem very frightened, but better to err on the side of caution she thought.

Valaethia had no idea what she was going to do with a baby dragon, raise it she supposed, but what did she know about raising a dragon? She had known a few over her long life, she had even been intimate with a couple of them, dragons were an interesting species, seeming to embody qualities of the others in one creature. The longevity of the elves, the ambition of the humans, the fortitude of the dwarves, a dragon had told her once that their people believed that the other races had been distilled from their blood by the gods. Which was a very dragon thing to believe, being a rather proud and somewhat self-centered race. Valaethia supposed that maybe it would be good to have a companion though, she had many friends throughout the forest, but she had to maintain a professional neutrality with all the inhabitants of the forest, it resulted in a lonely lifestyle.
 
The world outside of his shelled home was strange. There were sounds, smells and sights he had never began to fathom. Even as a magical being, he was still a beast at heart and craved for beastial things. He listened to the strange form in front of him, her voice matching the second voice he remembered within the egg. The sound that had carried him through the escape he was unaware of. Something about the voice drew him to her, and he felt more than curious to explore it.

Making his way forward cautiously, he let out a softer squeal as his lungs continued to adjust to the air around him. His nostrils flaring he as he took in every sense of her. Slowly he reached out with his muzzle and pressed it against her skin for a mere second. He hadn't known what to expect, but was glad that this motion didn't cause any discomfort. In fact, he felt a comforting feeling as he approached her.

His fork tongue sliding between his lips, he reached out and tasted her skin, taking in the earth sweetness that was the elven woman. Satisfied that this creature was his center of comfort, he suddenly lept at her and nuzzled against her body. Her warmth matched with his as he felt himself almost melt into her. This feeling was natural, warm and right.
 
Valaethia smiled warmly as the small dragon came a little closer, squealing softly between unsteady breaths with lungs still figuring out exactly how to function, and pressed his snout into her hand. She felt a bit of warmth tingle through her fingertips through her hand to her wrist before he pulled away, a little surprised by the feeling, but it was pleasant. A soft laughed bubbled up her throat as he licked at her skin, the agile forked tongue tickling the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. “That's it, come here,” she urged, encouraged by his reaction so far.

She let out a startled noise though as he pounced at her, though she knew he didn't mean her any harm, that he was only excited so that noise was quickly followed by a laugh as he curled up in her lap against her body. He was a little too big to fit in her lap really, being about the size of a wolf, but Valaethia made it work, her hands gently tugging and pushing him a little until he was comfortably cradled against her thighs. “Alright, there you go,” she smiled, her hands, surprisingly soft for how calloused they were, running along his neck and back, over the shimmering gold scales.

“What a handsome little thing you are,” Valaethia cooed affectionately, a hand scratching along under his chin and along his jaw to his reptilian ear, scratching a bit behind it as well. “You're alright now, you're safe with me,” she assured him, already feeling an affectionate protectiveness for him, almost maternal. If she ever caught the knight who have killed Imizael, he would wish he had never been born. That was for another time though as she sat on her bed, cradling the newborn dragon in her lap, showering him with affection. “Hmm, bet you're hungry though huh?” Valaethia mused aloud, thinking about the meat she kept in store.
 
The young dragon nuzzled against the affection he was receiving, content to be against her warmth and her voice. It was a soothing sensation to the hatchling. She had brought up food, and when he first got a wiff of the succulent meat she had to offer him, he almost dove straight for it. His mouth angrily tearing apart the meat and swallowing it in chunks. He let out a low coo as he filled himself to content. The excitement of the food and the hatching had tired what little energy he had to begin with. Crawling along the floor he cuddled up with the young elf and let out a yawn, ready to go back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

That air was crisp in this fine morning. The young hatchling had grown to the size of a large horse in no time and was now barely able to move around the small residences that had. Urowen stared out into the dense foliage of the forest he called home. Having been raised by the young elf, he grew much like a weed compared to Val's much more steady growth cycle. His soft dull scales had hardened and now gleamed in the rising sunlight.

“Come on.” Urowen said impatiently, hopping around the ground as he wait for his caretaker. She was almost like a mother to him, and he acted the bratty son part well. However, nothing was going to deter him today. Today, he was promised to go on a hunt with her. To find his own food and start to learn how to take care of himself. His keen eyes already at work as he checked back and forth for her and any potential prey.
 
Valaethia got up, leaving the young dragon on her bed, and opened the door to the meat she kept put away from later, jumping back a little as the hatchling dove into the food and began to gorge itself. She sighed a little and shook her head, going back to her bed and sitting on it as she watched him eat. She was going to have to go hunting more often it seemed to keep this voracious baby healthy and growing. The elf laughed softly as he finished and came crawling back, cooing and yawning as he got back up in bed with her, curled up, and went to sleep. Valaethia sighed, rubbing her hand along his neck and back soothingly, smiling gently as the baby dragon slept.

--------------------------------------------

Within a year, the dragon had nearly doubled in size, and was now roughly the equivalent of a five year old, dragons growing much faster than most other intelligent races. It was certainly challenging to raise a dragon, Urowen was smart, energetic, and rather mischievous at times. Valaethia also knew almost nothing about how dragons grew and learned, he caught on quickly, more quickly than she really had been prepared for. Even humans, as short lived as they were, did not age and grow so quickly. Elves and Dragons lived roughly about the same length of time, but Elves aged much more slowly than either race. Dragons had to be able to take care of themselves rather quickly though.

Today she would be starting a new leg of Urowen's life, she would be teaching him to hunt, much to the dragon's excitement. She could feel his mind buzzing impatiently at her own, as one side effect of raising him had been the mental link they now had established. Dragons could communicate many different ways, they had bestial body language, but also the draconic languages, and could even communicate telepathically to a point with one another. Raising him, Valaethia had found herself establishing the sort of connection he would have with his mother. It was interesting, but it could be annoying at times, like right now as she walked down the natural spiraling staircase that she had developed around the trunk of the tree over the years.

“I'm coming, I'm coming,” Valaethia sighed, her bright gold eyes finding the dragon as she neared the forest floor. He'd grown into a handsome creature, with metallic golden scales that sparkled in the sunlight and intelligent copper-brown eyes. “Remember Urowen, you'll be watching me at first, and then I'll let you have a go, but you must do as I say,” she told him with a maternal scowl, knowing that there was no way he was going to just watch her willingly, she'd probably have berate him into it.

The Elf began to change as she stepped off the tree, until she was a mountain lion with a bright red pelt and gold eyes, long tail twitching. “Come on,” she thought to him, setting off into the forest. She showed him how to track as best she could, knowing it would take practice for him to really get how to do it, but hoping maybe he would try to pay attention. Valaethia showed him tracks of different animals, which ones would actually be good to eat, as well as trying to get him to learn their smells and how to tell if the animal had passed by recently or not. Eventually she got them on the trail of a deer, and told Urowen to be as quiet as he could, her body moving low to the ground as she began to stalk down the trail the deer left.
 
Urowen was excited that he would finally get the chance to hunt, and it showed in his giddy nature. When Val began to explain the finer details of tracking, learning the signs of what passed through and how long ago, he tried his best to pay attention. He knew that if he were to just fumble his way through the forest, he wouldn't have any luck catching anything so he bowed to her teaching. Although he was able to calm his body for the most part, he wasn't able to still his mind. This was a whole new part of life and he wanted to jump into it head first. Once they were on the trail of a deer, Urowen copied his elven caretakers stance. A mountain lion, slowly creeping up on a prey was a majestic sight. The way her fur seemed to gleam against the sparse light through the canopy.

Urowen was not as graceful looking, with his golden scales catching every ray of light and reflecting it against a tree or brush. But he was doing his best to stay out of sight. As they got closer, the tension was building within his body. His eyes transfixed on the small beast, that for his size, looked more like a snack than a meal.
 
Valaethia knew that stealth would not likely be his strong point, his kind hunted best from the sky, but he was still too young to learn to fly just yet. He could manage to glide fairly well by now, it was how he got down from the top of the Great Oak where she made her home, but Urowen wasn't strong enough to lift himself more than a few feet off the ground before his wings gave out. He grew stronger everyday, he'd learn soon enough. Until then, she would teach him on the ground as best she could, they would be valuable lessons, even if the method wasn't one he would probably voluntarily use as an adult. Learning tracks and scents were still important after all.

The Elf though had been hunting much this way for centuries, and dropped into the almost meditative state of stalking her prey. It was a common misconception these days among humans that Elves were vegetarians, but this wasn't true. They did primarily vegetables and fruit, but they did eat meat, how much depended on their lifestyle and beliefs. Life was a precious thing among the Elves, not to be wasted wantonly, depending on which gods and traditions an Elf followed, life might be so precious that eating meat was reserved only for certain holidays,and there had indeed been certain factions of Elves that had abstained from it completely, but Valaethia had not been a member of them. She was a Druid, and her lifestyle reflected the balance of nature, life and death. She took only what she needed, but she needed the protein and it was just as important for her to know the life of a predator as it was to know the lives of their prey.

They found the deer soon enough, it was on the small side, but it would do for the lesson. The mountain lion paused, tail flicking, and glanced at Urowen, impressing on him the command to stay put, to watch and learn, and be still. That done she proceeded, carefully, each footfall carefully placed so as not disturb twig or leaf. If the deer lifted it's head from it's grazing to survey it's surroundings, Valaethia froze, watching in midstep, before continuing when the doe lowered her head again. She drew close, very close, almost close enough to pounce, almost there, her hind legs coiling in preparation to leap.
 
Back
Top Bottom