Claws and Kisses

“The beast was the size of the Ruji Mountains!” Lennox, one of the hunters, bellowed. “His teeth were as long and as sharp as a dagger. The horns atop his heads curled like half moons in the air, wickedly curved as to skewer its enemies. Its wings spanned the width of the entire village, twice over!”

At this point, the mischievous hunter was beginning to draw attention. In the dimly lit space of the common room, a few of the younger heads began to turn in his direction. Like curious puppies, they began to slink towards Lennox, intrigued by his tale. They did not pay attention to the older, more experienced hunters, who began to shake their heads at the fool-headed man.

Spurred on by the growing crowd, Lennox leaned forward in his chair and dramatically whispered, “Its eyes were like liquid fire! Crimson red they shone, burning with a thirst. A thirst for blood! Human blood!”

Now even a few of the older kids started to draw towards him, unable to help their own curiosity. Rumors of a dragon being hunted had been whispered about all day in the village. It was easy to see the question in the children’s eyes. Was Lennox really telling the truth? Had a dragon actually entered their midsts?

“Each of its scales were as black as the Earl of Hell’s waistcoat! Aye, they shined with malice, with hunger. As us hunters drew close, it roared into the night! As if calling to the other dragons for help!” Lennox shook his head, mockingly, as he continued. “Alas, even the bloody beast knew it was too late at that point. Our hunters quickly took charge! The bravery of your fellow countrymen—fathers, brothers, sons—was like no other! The sheer heroism and courage they displayed this day . . .”

Lennox, standing tall now among the room full of people, incessantly spoke of the dragon and the men of our village, gesturing wildly and capturing his audience with the story of a lifetime. His eyes were bright and his voice was steady as he talked, never once faulting.

My twin and I watched from the back corner of the room, under the watchful eye of Clyde. I sat comfortably on the floor with my back against his leg, leaning my head against his knee. Every time he spoke, I could feel as his leg bounced slightly with each of his words.

“Someone should tell the wee ones that brave Lennox served as the laird’s squire.”

I peered behind me to see Clyde talking lowly to another man, sitting in a chair not far from our table. I recognized him as one of my father’s hunters, but I could not place his name.

The man nodded, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. In a soft voice, he replied, “Aye, he’s a right scunner.”

My brother, Rhett, shared a secret smile with me, amused because Clyde and the older hunter were amused. I leaned closer against Clyde’s leg, eager to hear what he had to say about Lennox. His hand landed on top of my head, and he began to absentmindedly stroke my hair as he spoke.

“I don’t know if the laird will much like the boy blethering about the dragon,” Clyde mused, his eyes on Lennox, who was still talking and gesturing for all his worth. Clyde took a large swing of his tankard before saying, “I wonder when the Laird is going to come around. The lad will surely be riddy then.”

The old hunter laughed, tipping his drink towards Clyde with a knowing smile. “Aye, right.”

Right at that moment, the door to the common room swung open. A swarm of men crowded into the room, laughing and talking obnoxiously loud. They were dressed in hunting gear, armed to the teeth and strapped down with leather and armor. Their woolen cloaks swept across the floor as they called for a round of drinks, each of them finding their respective seats.

From the middle of the throng of hunters, Laird Norris emerged.

He was a large man, to be sure. His shoulders stretched with a sizeable width, and he stood out among the many men, one of the tallest in the village. His curly black hair was pulled away from his face in a low bun, but a few stray hairs had managed to slip out and fray around his head. He wore a fur cloak, like the rest of the hunters, as well as a pair of fine leather boots. Around his neck hung a heavy silver chain, to which was attached an intricately cut amber stone, symbolic of his distinguished rank.

Clyde whistled. “Speak o’ the Devil.”

The laird was conversing with the hunters when he walked in, but his eyes soon found Lennox in the front of the room, surrounded by a host of children.

Lennox froze at the sight of the men. His arms lowered from where they had been gesticulating and his mouth slowly closed as he met the laird’s eyes. Quickly, Lennox bowed to him, murmuring a word of greeting.

My father stepped toward Lennox, his hand on the pommel of his long sword. No one but Rhett and I noticed the smile behind the laird’s eyes. To everyone else, including Lennox, he probably appeared as the terrifying giant his reputation spoke for.

I watched, enraptured, as the Laird said, “What’s going on here?”

Lennox straightened, indeed looking “riddy” as Clyde had said he would. “My Laird,” he began. “I was simply telling the wee ones of the day’s triumphs. The dragon—”

“May or may not still be alive. No one saw the bowfing thing die.” Laird Norris glared at Lennox. “There was no great triumph today.”

The young hunter swallowed. “Of course, my Laird. I was only saying—”

“Aye,” Laird Norris interrupted. “What were you saying, laddie?”

From my father’s tone of voice, it was clear that the conversation was at an end. Lennox, blushing scarlet, hurriedly muttered an apology and scurried out of the room. The names “dunderheid” and “numptie” followed him out the door. As soon as he was gone, the laird lopped off to his seat and commenced the drinking for the night.

My eyes followed Laird Norris the entire time as he walked to his seat. I desperately wanted to run to his side, but I would have to wait until he called for me and Rhett himself. As if Clyde could feel my dampened spirit, he began to rub my back soothingly, still speaking lowly to the man at the table next to ours.

“Lennox is all gallus until there is a real problem to be dealt with,” the old hunter said. “The lad blethers on and on until there’s an actual threat, and then he goes off for a dauner! He’s a wean, still. Not yet a man.”

Clyde nodded. “Aye.”

The common room quickly fell silent as Laird Norris stood once more, a tankard now in his hand. He took a great gulp from the cup before slamming it down on the table and announcing, “What you all heard was right! A dragon was seen today. Our hunters tracked it for miles, and injured it a great deal. Before we made the final kill, it flew off. It may or may not be dead. Nevertheless, we set out again for it tomorrow, and bring its head back on a platter.” He paused to grab his tankard once more, and lifted it to the rest of the room in solidarity. “Tonight, we drink!”

The men cheered. Tankards were tipped back, and the common room settled once more into a low hum of runctious laughter and bawdy talk. Clyde and the old hunter kept conversing above us, but all Rhett and I could focus on was father. I was beginning to doubt whether he would want to speak to us at all.

Rhett turned to me with a half-smile, doing his best to appear in somewhat good spirits. “You hear what they’re saying, Dee? There’s going to be another hunt tomorrow. Suppose father will let me gang with them?”

I shook my head, my eyes still on father. “I haven’t a clue.”

He looked back and forth between me and where father sat. With a sigh, he put a hand on my knee and gently said, “Don’t waste your time wishing for—”

“Rhett.”

The loud bark echoed across the room. More than a few heads turned to glance at Laird Norris. His head was still hung low over his drink, but his order rang clear as a bell. As if the very gods had commanded Rhett to their side, he scrambled up from the floor and raced to the laird. He just as quickly bowed and chirped, “Father.”

The laird slung an arm around his son’s shoulders and drew him close to his side. Rhett listened wholeheartedly as father whispered in his ear, his fingers gripping the young boy’s arm. After a moment, Rhett was released, the laird done talking. Rhett bowed once more before excitedly running off, back to where Clyde and I sat.

Clyde’s hand came down on my shoulder as we watched Rhett make his way towards us. He squeezed gently, conveying his silent sympathies. He did not need to voice his concerns. I knew he was worried about what father had told Rhett.

I wanted to be the kind of girl who could brush off his hand and his sympathies, and tell him that he need not be worried. Because I was strong and I was fierce. I did not need pity.

Yet, as Rhett drew closer, his eyes bright and his smile wide, I could only curl closer against Clyde’s legs, taking comfort in his solid, warm touch.

“Dee! You’ll never believe what father has telt me just now.” Rhett dropped to the floor next to me, his shoulder bumping against mine. From the glimmer in his eyes, I knew then what father had told him. And I did not want to hear it.

“I don’t want to hear it, Rhett—”

But Rhett was already talking, drowning out my words. “Father has asked me to gang on the hunt with him and the others tomorrow! I’ll be hunting the dragon. The dragon!”

He did not notice the tears that sprang to my eyes, or they way that my shoulders began to tremble with silent sobs. Rhett just kept on talking about the dragon and how he would be the one to kill it. I did not hear him, however. I was too caught up in my own head. Why did father not ask me to go on the hunt? I knew that hunting was a man’s job, but I thought that since I was the laird’s daughter, it would not matter. The laird was the laird. If he ordered me to go on the hunt, no one could object. Right?

As I looked across the room at my burly, brutish father, I knew in my heart that he would never allow me—or any other girl in the village, for that matter—go on the hunt with them. It did not matter that he was the laird. He didn’t want me on the hunt.

I glanced back at my brother, teary-eyed.

He only wanted Rhett.

Not me.

Shoving Clyde’s hand off my shoulder, I angrily clambered to my feet. Rhett slowly stopped talking, and lowered his hands to his side. Confused, he asked, “Hey, where are you going, Dee?”

Even Clyde leaned forward in his seat. “Lass? What are you doing?”

None of the drunk men or the giggling children in the common room noticed as I stormed out the door and into the cold clutches of winter. I lingered only a second by the doorway, listening for my father’s footsteps or his cries to come back. I waited one. Two. Three seconds before the door to the common room banged open. My heart soared in my chest. He did care.

Only, it wasn’t father at the door. Rhett stood in the entryway, his cloak bundled tight around his body. He had to shout over the high whistle of the icy wind for his words to reach my ears. “Wendy! Why did you leave?” He squinted at my face, streaked with tears. He frowned. “And why are you out here crying? Come back inside, near the fire.”

As quickly as my heart soared, it withered to the ground, deflated and worn out. I threw my hood over my head and yelled, “Leave me be, Rhett! I don’t want to talk to you.”

His brow furrowed. He did not understand my tears or my anger. Still, he shouted back, “What did I say, Wendy? I . . . I thought you would be happy for me.”

I pulled my cloak tighter around me, and began to walk away in earnest now. Disappointment clogged my throat, making it impossible to speak, especially to Rhett of all people. He could only watch as I lumbered through the snow, back to our house on the other side of the village. I thought I heard Clyde calling out for me, but when I looked back, there was no one there. I was left alone in the cold, save the stars and the snow and the tears.

“Stupid brother,” I muttered, kicking the ice stuck to the ground as I walked. “Stupid father. Stupid Clyde.” I kicked the snow, sending sheets of white powder raining down around my feet. Angry tears continued to roll down my cheeks with ferocity as I whispered, “Stupid hunters. Stupind Lennox. Stupid—”

Somewhere faraway, a deafening roar rose like smoke through the frigid night. It reverberated through the village and the mountains beyond like raging thunder. In terror, I froze in the middle of the stone path, looking around wildly at the other huts for signs of life. Surely, someone else must have heard it?

The roar came once more, thunderous and bold, before fading into a whisper in the distance. Nothing more.

But as I looked around, I realized how late the hour was and how everyone, besides those still drinking in the common room, had undoubtedly gone to bed a long time ago. No one had heard the roar. That meant, no one knew what I knew.

The dragon was still alive.

I look towards the forest where the roar had come from. A terrible, horrible idea came to mind. However, the more I thought about it, the more I grew to like it.

Father, Rhett, and the hunters would set out for the dragon tomorrow, intent on killing the beast. They’d bring back its head on a platter, just like father had promised. But . . . if there was no beast left to kill, they would not be able to bring its head back.

My heart pounded in my chest as I made a final, quick decision.

I would go to the forest. To the dragon.

And I would save it.

New first chapter! So excited to see what you guys think of all the new edits and chapters that are coming out.

I thought that adding this before the previous first chapter scene was important. Looking back at the book so far, I noticed one of the things that I wanted to change was some of Wendy’s backstory and childhood scenes. More importantly, I wanted to introduce Rhett much earlier in the book than previously, as well as a look at her father and what kind of parent he was. Please let me know what you guys think of Laird Norris and Clyde!

Alright, that is all for today folks. I hope you enjoyed and are excited about the coming adventures!

~Elaine

(P.S. Yes, I watched Outlander recently. Yes, I fell in love with the Scottish accent/slang. Yes, it will be added throughout the book. Lol. Get ready for it!)