Draconic - Chapter 2

I startle awake. What happened? At which point did the sun disappear?

I turn my head upwards, and find myself met by the sight of a star-filled night sky. Indeed, the sun appears to be gone – it is night already. When did that happen?

Oh, right. I must have fallen asleep. Stupid, comfortable rock.

Knowing that there's nothing to do about the fact, I figure it pointless to remain where I am any longer. I rise from the ground, not the slightest bit tired, and begin to consider how, exactly, I am going to get out of here. The question isn't a hard one – it is quite obvious that the hole in the ceiling is where I am heading, and all I need to do to get there is go a few meters upwards. Turning my head in a way that would have broken my neck had I still been human, I observe the wings on my back. Yes, these will do nicely.

First things first, I unfold my wings. I've done it before, it shouldn't be -ow, wrong muscle- that... hard. Thankfully, I manage to untangle my newly made mess within a few seconds, properly unfolding my wings into the somewhat chilly air around me. I give them a testing flap – at least that works properly, as a cloud of dirt suddenly goes flying into the air, made airborne by the sudden wind I created. A small bush flies away with it, rustling slightly until it gets impaled by one of the many stalagmites that seem to be all over the place, where it stills into silence. Meanwhile, the earthy smell of dried dirt invades my nostrils; I breathe it in, only to cough and splutter as the dirt itself follows along with the actual air. My coughing fit lasts for several seconds as my body tirelessly works to expel the foreign material. In hindsight, taking that breath probably wasn't such a good idea, no matter how good it felt to suddenly smell all those nuances and subtleties that I never noticed before.

One final puff of air leaves my throat, taking with it the last of the brown, dust-like material and leaving me free to greedily breathe in a lungful of fresh, clean air. Now that I'm actually paying attention to my nose, instead of just focusing on the crystal-clear sight that my eyes grant me, there is suddenly a myriad of smells bombarding my senses; I can't believe I was so blind to this, it's like I've had a cold my entire life, only to finally conquer it and in doing so unclouding my senses. The rocky, mineral-filled smell of the cave comes at me from one direction, tempered by the leaf-like smell of growth and vegetation flowing in from the outside. Leaves, wood, a hint of fur, flowers, grass, it all comes at me simultaneously, overwhelming me with a myriad of impressions in a symphony of smells. I shove my nose down next to the rock beside my feet, feeling the detailed smell of stone as it registers in my mind, and as I'm doing so, I pick up the cry of a bird in the distance. My right ear twitches a bit as I try to catch the sound again; that noise was another thing that I would not have noticed in my old form, and now that I'm actually listening to the world, I can hear a few crickets in the distance as well, though the whole area seems otherwise covered by a blanket of silence. It's not exactly an unnatural silence, it's just... calm. Peaceful.

I shake my head as my eyes briefly unfocus – too many distractions. I need to get back on track. Turning to look up through the hole once again, I begin to consider: how am I going to go at this? I could jump, but I doubt I would be able to get high enough. I have wings, of course, but I don't really know how to use them properly. Still, do I really have a choice? It's not like there is a convenient staircase just waiting for me to use it; I am going to have to get out through that hole one way or another, and it looks like I'll have to take flight in order to do so. At least for a little while. I can manage a few seconds, right? Well, only one way to find out. I bend my knees, all four of them, and then straighten them all out at once, propelling myself upwards.

I get barely a decimeter into the air. Obviously, that was the wrong way of doing things. I clearly need a different approach, since i obviously I cannot jump like a human anymore. I wonder, how does an animal -say, a cat- do it? As I consider this, a mental image drifts into my mind, and I begin to formulate an idea. I think about it for a little while, before figuring that unless I try I will never figure out if it works. As such, I jump again, but this time, I do things differently. I crouch low to the ground, just like last time, but unlike then, I do not simply straighten all of my legs out at once. Instead, I push down with only my front legs, the front of my body thus changing angle, and the rest of it drags up with it. Now, I aim to push with my rear legs, which would propel me upwards (hopefully much further than before), but here, I hesitate. It is only for a moment, but that is all it takes – I miss my narrow window, lose my footing and fall onto my back, crashing into the stone with all the force I had just excerted on myself. Lying on my wings... it' isn't really painful, just uncomfortable, and I am all too eager to turn back around and view the world upright, ready to try again.

This time, my timing is impeccable; despite it only being my second try, I manage to get it just right, pushing out with my hind legs at the exact, intended moment. To my great pleasure, it works as intended – I get a lot higher than the first time, though I'm still a bit more than half a meter away from the hole when my momentum runs out and I start to fall back towards the ground. However, I hadn't thought about the landing, and when one of my still-unfolded wings suddenly catch a bit of air, I begin to spin. The world is rotating like some crazed centrifuge of momentum, and in my confusion I do the only thing my brain thinks up: I use my wings. Well, 'use' may be a bit of an overstatement – all I do is give them a poorly thought-out flap, which only makes things worse as it turns my direction and shoots me up into the air, changing the two meter fall into a five meter one straight towards a cliff wall. It doesn't even stop the spinning – reduces it a bit, perhaps, but by the time I violently collide with the cliff face, having gotten no chance to redeem my course, I'm already upside-down. My head slams into the rock full-force, leaving my skull aching and ringing from the impact as I fall the remaining half-a-meter down towards the rock-ground, crashing into it back first. Thankfully, my wings are by my sides and not on my back, so I do not end up crushing them, though the uncomfortable feeling of being upside-down on the ground still lingers at the back of my mind.

For a few moments I just lie there, not liking the sudden ache in my skull (though thankful that I have scales that help to dampen the impact, lest my head be like a crushed watermelon right about now); ouch, that was not pleasant. Truthfully I would much rather just remain where I am (though I'd turn to lying on my stomach if at all possible) than try again, but that is horribly short-sighted, and quite honestly I would probably regret it after a while. Besides, I feel a bit thirsty, and there is no water in here. Still, it can't hurt to lie here for a little while, at least until my head stops hurting. With the pain already receding, if slowly, I use my left wing to push my body up and around, turning me so that I do not have to feel so... exposed. I stay by the wall for some time longer, though the pain itself does not last all that long – I probably have my armored skull to thank for that. Or I'm just generally thick-headed. In either case, I can't laze around here all night – I've done that with the day already, and should really get something productive going, such as actually getting out of this cave. Still nursing a minor headache, I get up, and begin to walk up the slope back to the entrance/exit hole.

I don't delay – my second attempt begins practically immediately after I reach my destination. I once more crouch down, launching myself up with only a slight offset in my timing, and this time, I know that I will have to make use of my wings to reach the top. In the middle of my ascent, I lift my wings, and bring them down with a powerful gust of air backwards being the result. My momentum increases, but as my right wing came down slightly earlier, my direction is further off-set, and suddenly I'm heading not for the hole, but the root- and dirt-coverage right next to it. Whilst it is too late to change my course again, I do manage to get one of my feet out in front of me, and as I careen into the vegetative mess, my claws drill into it and thus saving me from a collision (if barely), but at the same time sending dirt raining down right into my face as the claws sinks into the material. I try to close my eyes, but I'm just a tiny bit too late, as a few grains of the dirt makes it past my eyelids and in behind them. Meanwhile, with my momentum stopped, my movement abruptly turns down towards the ground, though thankfully I am going there feet-down (well, mostly) this time. As I descend, my saving claws detach, bringing another shower of dirt and even a small rock down after me, but hey, at least I manage a landing which does not end with me upside-down, even if the falling rock ends up ramming my head afterwards. It doesn't hurt or anything, the rock being quite small, but the symbolism is very much there. Am I going to get hurt in some form every time I try this?

Of course, there is still the issue of the dirt in my eyes. I blink furiously to try and remove the small granules, greatly annoyed by their very presence as they scratch against my eyes' transparent layer between the actual eyeglobe and my eyelids, though they are thankfully not making any damage to either. The little pieces of dirt are simply indescribably annoying; just go away already! I continue blinking, and gradually, the dirt begins to disappear, I don't really know to where. After a few seconds, I finally rid myself of the last grain, leaving me briefly relieved and more than ready to try again. Hopefully it will work properly this time, without any more... unfortunate accidents. Said and done, I crouch down once more, leaping up into the air and boosting my jump with a flap of my wings. I still end up somewhat off-center, but this time, it looks like I am going to make it through. My head flies it through the opening; I've made it! Of course, it is only now that I realize a fatal error: my legs are hanging kind of limply downwards, and though the first set makes it through without issues, the rear pair isn't as lucky, as they snag on the edge of the opening, get stuck in the vegetation and thus turn my course straight for the bushes. Having them shut my momentum down like that isn't exactly painless, either. As such, I make a mental note to try and keep my legs close to my body during flight.

Of course, it's a bit late to do anything about that now, as I find myself tangled in the multitude of plants, bushes and other growth that covers the surface around the entrance to my site of hatching. Thankfully, my outsides are too tough for the vegetation to cause me any harm, but that doesn't mean that I am unhindered by it; my face, wings and legs are all tangled into the plantlife even as my rear feet widens the hole behind me. The growth blocks my motion and makes an unnecessary ruckus every time I try to move as I am tangled into the midst of it, not really able to get either up nor down. I wiggle and shake, the bush holding me emitting its own serenade of shaking leaves as I struggle to free myself, quite clearly alerting everyone and everything nearby in doing so. Then again, the alternative is to simply stay where I am, and I can't simply remain suspended by bushes all night. Thankfully, I manage to wriggle out of the plant's grasp after a few seconds, enough to at least get a hold of the ground with one of my clawed feet. From there, I pull myself loose, reaching the dirt beneath the bush and, although it is not exactly roomy, I still fit between the bushes and the dirt, at least to a degree where the offending twigs can be pushed away without much effort. Of course, even with my body freed, there are still issues. Specifically, it is dark, and despite my enhanced vision, a new moon blocked by several layers of vegetation doesn't leave much light to spare. Besides, even if it had been day, navigating through this haphazard blend of plants would not have been easy, and now, seeing as I do not even know which way I am facing, it will clearly be a lot harder than that. I know where the hole is, right behind me, but as I don't know which side of it I am on, that is of little help to me right now.

Still, I might as well try this direction as any other; turning around to face some other way is not going to increase my chances, and with that thought in mind, I begin to crawl through the underbrush. The sight range is, quite frankly, terrible, and I can't hear anything else with all the noise I myself generate as I move through all this, but at least I can still smell things. Generally, I mostly pick up smells of all the plantlife, such as that of leaves and bark, and the somewhat moist dirt is also a factor, but aside from that, there are also these... pieces. Hints. I can't quite put a finger on it – there appears to be quite a lot of far weaker smells, though they are like seeing something just at the edge of one's vision. They are clouded. Unclear. Each one blends in with all the other ones into a muddled mess, from which I can gleam no useful information. I try to focus in on one of the smells, but it evaporates and flickers away before I can get a grip on it. Undeterred, I try again with a different smell, but this time, it feels like I got just a tiny bit closer, even if the end result is the same. I suppose I will just need lots and lots of practice... well, either that, or the second smell was just somewhat stronger, but I would rather put my money on the needing practice option, even if I probably don't have any money anymore. Not like I could use it or anything.

Actually, that might be an issue. I will need food, and I do not exactly think that non-humans are allowed, precisely, to go shopping. I suppose I could steal, but if I do that I am going to get caught eventually, and who knows what would happen to me then. Of course, I am aware that I have at least some manner of food stocked up at my, or rather Marcie's house, but for one, I did not exactly live in a very secluded place, but rather in a suburban area (so getting in and out without being seen might be a challenge, at least if I do it during the day), and there is also the fact that no matter how much is stored there, it is going to run out eventually. Somehow, I am going to have to procure my own food. However, as I am not even entirely sure what 'food' is anymore, that is not going to be easy. Running my tongue over the lower part of the inner sides of my teeth, occasionally going up to feel one of their pointed ends, does however remind me of a carnivore's mouth. I suppose my diet is meat, an assumption which is fortified by the fact that I am not the least bit tempted by the growth around me – hunting, then? That would seem to be what I need to aim for, but I suspect I will be terrible at it, knowing that I am hardly even capable of controlling my body properly (at least in the air), much less to its full potential. However, if I take advantage of Marcie's food supply, that might (big emphasis on the might here) just give me enough time to learn at least the basics.

Pleased that I've come up with a plan for my sudden problem, I continue moving with a slightly more cheerful gait, despite the fact that the concept of killing another being makes me a bit... squeamish – must be Marcie talking there, as I am pretty sure that instinct would not make a carnivore have this feeling. Of course, it's not like I am going to be able to avoid it; I'll need to eat, after all, so I suppose I will just have to get used to it. My ears pick up an interesting noise, but as I lift my head to try and catch it again, i nearly get poked in the eye by another branch. I flinch back on reflex, leading to the wooden piece dragging across my headscales rather than actually injuring me.  However, I am somewhat distracted by it, and I find myself turning my head to look at it as I trot on, thus drawing my attention away from where I am going. Right at that point, the growth rapidly starts to thicken, and I find myself suddenly tangled in an imposing wall of twigs, leaves and branches, my body getting stuck up to the edge of my wings before I have the good sense to start backpedaling. I pull myself backwards with my hind legs, my front dragging a good amount of the dense plant with me as I do so. Twigs crack and snap, dragged along as the structure of the dense weave of plant matter prevents them from simply bending outwards, and by the time I get loose, it feels like I brought half the bush with me. I volently shake my body, sending the loose objects flying in all directions, crashing into the nearby plantlife with all the noise that such a thing entails.

With the wall of plants looking all but impenetrable, I quite swiftly make the decision to go around it rather than through it, turning left seemingly at random before heading off through the growth once more. I nudge away another cluster of twigs, only to run head-first into the thick trunk of a tree. I try to stop, but by that point it is already too late, and my face collides with the trunk's rough surface. My momentum is pulled to a stop as I find myself suddenly blocked, once again thankful for my thick skull and my relatively low speed as the impact doesn't really hurt me in any noticeable way. However, as I am quick to realize, this tree trunk presents me with an opportunity. If I could just climb it somehow, I could get an idea of where I am, saving me from wandering aimlessly until I just happen to come across an exit. Judging by how long I have been walking, though, I am probably going the wrong way.

Without hesitation, I begin my climb. Drilling my front claws into the wooden material, I begin to work on pulling myself up, taking advantage of my rear legs as well once I get high enough. As I continue to climb, my tail is naturally pulled along with me, trailing by the side of the trunk as I struggle to ascend. The thick of the bushes ends after just a bit over a meter and a half, not too soon after my feet have left the ground, and I push through them with determination. Unfortunately, I get the idea to use my front legs to do so, and of course, that leaves me woefully unattached to the tree trunk. I fall backwards, crashing back down to the ground before I can even begin to clear away the blockage, a few pieces of bark coming along with me as my two remaining feet are twisted out of the trunk itself. With it being quite obvious what my mistake was, I promptly turn myself right-side-up again and restart my climb, quite obviously not intending to make the same mistake again. I burst through the foliage, climbing high enough for my head to be able to look around above the collective leafage, where I keep myself held. I immediately make a discovery: the uncontrolled chaos of the plant-field ends just a few meters away, close enough so that, if I climb a bit more, I might just be able to make the jump. I proceed to do so, climbing slightly to the right of the trunk to get a better angle. My wings slowly unfold themselves, feeling the fresh, chilly night air as I prepare to try and glide over the bushes, which would save me from an unpleasantly long fall that I would have to take were I to jump directly.

I push out, launching myself off from the trunk, whilst doing so pushing with my left legs just a little bit earlier in an attempt to turn me upright for my flight. Unfortunately, it works a little too well; I lose control, and the world begins to spin. The ground approaches rapidly, but I have no control over where I am going anymore, and so I slam right into it, tumbling across the ground. My wings slam into the surface one, two, three times before I finally pull to a stop, disorientated and with somewhat aching wings, particularly in their tips. I really need to work on this whole 'flying' thing. At least I made it out, though.

I stay on the ground for a moment longer, waiting for the pain in my battered wings to subside before I do anything else. Whilst doing so, I let out a huff of air, starting to get somewhat annoyed by my lack of skill; it would honestly be much easier to already know exactly what to do. Then again, I am not usually one to back down from trying to learn something once I've set my mind to it, so why should this time be any different? I am just going to have to try again, and again, until such a point where I actually know what I am doing. There is simply no other way, and never learning how to use my wings with at least a modicum of skill, that is just flat-out unacceptable. I have them, and I sure as hell am going to use them. Right now, I have other things to do than repeatedly crashing into the ground.

Rising up, I re-fold my wings and trot off, away from the vegetation behind me. It is time for me to head... home.