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Red Nail · #5 (**permalink**) 08-19-2008

Verras awoke not to something he hadn't expected at all. He awoke to a nearly crushing pain that surrounded him on all sides. With a high pitched whine that was completely undignified for the young dragon, he lashed out with his claws. When his panicked mind registered that his claws were only scraping against stone he began to latch onto what hold he could and drag himself forward.

In the total darkness of his cramped tunnel Verras couldn't tell if he was headed towards a larger space or to a dead end, but he traveled forward still as it was too tight to try and back up. During his crawling trek Verras had a lot of time to think about how he'd ended up in this situation. He remembered the strange swirl of light and wondering how the dwarfs got it so far past the mage stone booby traps he'd set up near his lair. His sense told him that it was magic, but nothing else. He'd decided to enter the light and find out for himself.

When a random jag of stone caught his left wing and pulled it back painfully Verras was sure that charging into the light had been a bad idea. Soon after his wing pulling he saw something that brought a fierce grin to the young dragon's face, a faint light not unlike that of the mage stones. If it was mage stone he'd definitely be able to trace his way back home. As he drew closer the light also gave him enough light to actually see where he was. His eyes widened and dilated to let in as much light as possible allowing him to actually see instead of grope around.

It was tunnel that he'd been shunted into with the exit close at hand. His grin disappeared when he also noticed that it was some kind of strange moss that glowed in the darkness. He would have rather had the mage stone, which made for a potent weapon and light source, as his only memories of moss were mostly bad. That last time he'd encountered moss was back near the water pool in his caves. He'd tried to eat it when he was younger and it made him sick for weeks. Had he not been a dragon it probably would have killed him.

When he reached the end of the tunnel he pried himself out slowly; especially so when he maneuvered around his injured wing. When he was finally free Varras stretched himself until he heard a few satisfying joint pops. His wing responded as well, but awkwardly. The wing hung down a bit at his side, but was still folded like the other against his back. When he tried to flap it the spasming pain that it shot into Verras' brain almost overwhelmed him. He held his tongue this time to maintain some dignity and when it subsided a little Verras knew that his limited ability to fly was not an option at the time.

He folded it tightly to his side again and turned his attention to the moss. It would make a good light source although he had no way to carry it with him. As he looked closer he noticed that something or someone had scraped off some of the moss recently. Verras sniffed it and touched it with his tongue, letting the flavors and scents wash over the baser part of his mind. He expect to get sick or something, but when nothing happened he was reasonably sure that the moss was safe.

The smell and taste that he had taken confused him more than answered any of his questions. Whatever had touched the moss was something that tasted a little like the dwarf flesh he'd consumed before, but it also tasted strongly of unfamiliar water. In the back of his mind the word fresh popped up, but Verras wasn't sure what that really meant and resolved to figure it out later. It smelled like water as well rather than grimy sweat.

Intrigued, Verras forgot about the moss and trailed the scent. Whoever it was hadn't been very careful. Signs of passage obvious to one that grew up in a cave were everywhere. Some disturbed dust, a drop of cave water interrupted in it's descent, even in the fading light these things stood out. Before the light failed completely Verras saw another faint glow ahead, presumably belonging to whomever had passed before.

The sounds of challenge were up ahead. Verras couldn't make out the language used, but as he skulked closer he could tell that there were two figures. One carried the moss and was the one he'd been tracking and the other seemed a little feral and was issuing the challenges. Soundlessly Verras flattened against the floor and watched the two while he wondered what was going to happen.