Picked Clean
Written by J-Haskell.
A Clanless fireworm fights to protect her kill from scavengers.
Clouds of acrid-smelling dust plumed in the air as two fireworms fought over the bony corpse of a chital.
Magne’s teeth scraped against solid bone as she bit down harder on her food. She shook her head back and forth violently, trying to shake the other dragon’s grip. This small deer would be her first meal in a week, and she did not intend to let them steal it from her.
It’s mine! I hunted it, go find your own! She tried to snarl at the other dragon; through her mouthful of deer, all that came out was a wet growl. Magne had called the Clanless Valley home for long enough now enough to know that this was simply how things were done, but that didn’t mean she liked it. It wasn’t fair.
She lunged forward in an attempt to startle the other dragon into letting go, never loosening her own grasp on her prey, but the scrawny Clanless simply blinked and shifted out of the way. Magne hissed irritably, but did not try it again—her breath came raggedly through her nose, spraying small sparks in the air.
A few months ago, this would have been no contest. A few months ago, this scrawny grey-scaled fireworm would have taken one look at her and known better than to try to steal from her.
But her time in the valley had changed her. Her scales, once a shining blue deeper than that of a clear sky, were dull and smeared with greyish-brown dust. Muscle and fat had worn away to the point where she could see the impression of her ribs against her scales. It had been an exertion to find the strength merely to hunt, and she did not know if she had it in her to fend off a scavenger now.
A shadow fell over them both. Her competitor’s eyes flicked upward, pupils narrowing to startled slits, but Magne did not let herself get distracted. She squared her shoulders in anticipation of another would-be thief, and bit down so hard that shocks of pain flared in her teeth.
And then a much larger dragon landed on top of them both. The stranger’s weight bore them both down without a fight; neither had the strength in their thin frames to struggle against the much larger, much healthier dragon.
Magne let out a startled hiss, and found herself staring into the bright blue eye of a two-headed dragon. The stranger’s body was a dark jade green, fading to bright orange on his two heads. One regarded Magne impassively, while the other watched the dragon who had tried to steal from her. Judging by his muscular, well-fed physique, he was either only freshly clanless, or a visitor from one of the clans.
“Is this,” he picked at the deer’s corpse with one hand, “truly what you were fighting so fiercely over? This little thing?”
“I caught it!” Magne said, “it’s mine! The hunter keeps her spoils.”
“Only if you’re strong enough to hold on to it,” the other clanless hissed.
The two-headed dragon laughed, an eerie sound that doubled in on itself. Then his face leaned in close and he said, his tone low but deadly-clear. “No. No, you will share it. And then we shall hunt something worth eating. Am I understood?” Magne opened her mouth to defy him, then thought better of it. There was no way she could beat this dragon in a fight. She nodded.
The stranger let them up and settled back to watch a short distance away. Magne and the other clanless eyed him for a moment; his features were a mix of moonviper and fireworm, and in addition to his two heads, he also possessed an extra pair of legs. She had always imagined that four-legged dragons would be ungainly, but he maneuvered into a sitting position with enviable grace.
Hunger drove her to turn her back on him and dig in. The other clanless joined her, and they tore into the deer with a ferocity that would have frightened hatchlings. For a few minutes, they shared peacefully, before the other dragon grew bold and, hooking their jaws around the corpse, tried to drag it away from Magne.
She hissed and reared back, ready to aim a kick at them, but the two-headed dragon acted first.
The dark green bulk of his body slammed into the scavenger. They lost their balance and toppled sideways, sprawling out into the dirt and dropping the deer in the process. Two heads roared into their face. “I am going to let you up, and you are going to leave.”
The dragon stared up at him, eyes shimmering with anger. Then his talons tightened and they shrieked, “yes, yes!”
He let them go. They scrambled away without a word, vanishing into the heavy brown smoke that veiled the Clanless Valley within seconds.
Magne watched him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. He met her eyes, his expression one of perfect serenity, and nudged the rest of the deer towards her.
“What do you want?” Her stomach still ached from hunger, but she had to ask. No one helped strangers in the Clanless Valley. Not ever. There had to be something he wanted from her, however little she had to offer.
“I want you to eat.” He settled back down. “And then, if you are willing, I would have you hunt with me.”
Magne hesitated, waiting for more, but in the end her stomach won out. She tucked into the deer, and did not stop until only bones remained. Even those she might have cracked open to lick out the marrow, had the strange two-headed dragon not been sitting there, watching her. She gnawed on a too-thin leg bone, bemoaning the emptiness in her stomach which had still not been satisfied, then spat it out and faced him.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Fissure. And you?”
“Magne.”
He nodded. “Let’s hunt, Magne.”
And then he took off, four powerful legs launching him into the air. She watched him, his wings beating hard to carry him aloft, before kicking off after him.
. . .
Magne had not expected to see Fissure again after that strange day. They had hunted and eaten together, and then they parted ways. He had promised to find her again tomorrow, speaking his oath with two mouths, but she had not expected him to keep his word.
She was wrong.
The next day, he found her, and they hunted together again. And the next, and the one after that, until Magne felt her strength beginning to return to her. One day, when he found her trying to dig out her den and make it larger, they did not immediately go searching for prey.
Instead, Fissure took her to meet another dragon. Another clanless, who he had similarly been helping. That day they hunted as three. The next a fourth joined them. And then a fifth.
Fissure was wholly inscrutable. Not once did he ask anything of them—only for their names, and if they would hunt with him—but as time passed, Magne stopped seeing that as suspicious. If he wanted something from them, he would have asked by now. His growing flock of clanless thrived under his guidance, and he wanted nothing from them but for them to eat, and for their scales to regain their shine.
Perhaps the Brothers had not forsaken them. Perhaps they had sent Fissure to act for them, to nourish the forgotten and forsaken. If only he had come sooner; perhaps my daughter might still be alive.
“Thank you.” Magne said to Fissure one day, and was surprised to realize that this was the first time she had said such a thing to him. It was the first time that her stomach had not won out over all other considerations. The first time she felt like a person, not an animal leaving behind all principle to survive.
Both heads turned to regard her, identical looks of bemusement on their faces. Then a polished smile wiped them away. “Of course.”
“You have still not told me why you are doing all this.” She couldn’t help it, even now.
Fissure smiled. “You still keep asking.”
“Of course I do,” Magne grumbled. “I… I have not known generosity like this. Not since I left my clan.”
For a time he did not answer. Then he took a breath and asked, “which clan were you from, before?”
“The Ashwalkers.” She had meant to leave it at that, but somehow she found herself saying more. “I left for my daughter. She hatched an iceworm and I… I could not bear to abandon her.”
A look of understanding washed over Fissure’s faces. He did not need to ask why, if she had left her clan to keep her, Magne’s daughter was nowhere to be found. He did not need her to say it. “That is why I’m doing this.” He looked off into the distance, where the twin peaks of the Siblings were dark marks against ash-filled skies. “Things need to change. And I mean to change them.”
Magne stared at him. A burst of fire from the distant volcanoes coloured the sky behind Fissure’s heads brilliant gold, like a crown of flame around his head. She swallowed.
“I will help you.”