Chapter 4 - Amusing Lies and Indifference

Hah, I was only toying with you. I didn’t actually hit the ground. In fact, I didn’t even make it halfway down the cliff before I started flying.

You see, it’s just like getting used to new boots—except much more extreme. Very much more so.

Once I realized I was safe from any immediate danger, I glanced around and saw all three of my brothers, intact and flying. Greenie, however, was nowhere to be found—not at the top, not at the bottom.

So, the rest of us, minus Greenie, flew back to the top of the cliff, where we found our mother waiting impatiently, with what looked like an arched brow-ridge. Yes, dragons don’t have eyebrows.

Our mother was also chewing on the carcasses of two deer, much like a cow chewing cud—except with loud bone-cracking sounds. I found that action oddly endearing. It gave off a sort of “you kept me waiting so long, I had time to hunt two deer and leisurely chew on them” vibe. Quite endearing, really.

She took one look at us and immediately noticed that Greenie was missing. She puffed out a short breath of air and went back to chewing, waiting a few minutes as if expecting Greenie to show up.

When Greenie didn’t appear, our mother snorted with what seemed like disdain and looked down at us. It wasn’t a kind look, but it wasn’t unkind either—just somewhere in between. I sensed indifference more than anything.

“The weak do not survive. Greenie was... weak. Such is the way of life.” That was all our mother had to say about her daughter’s death. That brief comment was the only acknowledgement Greenie would get.

Without any further ceremony, the mother dragon turned around and flew off, expecting us to follow her back to the cave. She was ready to put our newly-acquired flying skills to good use.

As we flew, I imagined Greenie plummeting toward the ground and disappearing into nothingness. Who knew that it would actually come true?

Still, I didn’t feel sadness over her death. A two-day bond, at best, would have earned her a brief prayer. A twenty-year bond might have given me a day of silent grief, which I’d eventually allow myself—someday, I thought, thinking of my father.

Those were my thoughts as our mother led us back to the cave, each of us lost in our own reality, each of us relieved to have survived. It was only later, as I was preparing to sleep in the cave, that I realized our mother had taken the long route home.