Day Thirty

Write about an injury

Tamorn lost the fight. No surprise there, really. Bentu was older and faster than he was, even though he was smaller, and he knew a lot of nasty tricks that Tamorn didn’t. But it was still disappointing, knowing that Loka was going to mate with Bentu instead of with him. He’d liked her.

He landed on the lakeshore, his feet sinking into the damp sand with a soft rasping sound. It was cool against his scales, a welcome relief after the sun-baked stone of the cliffs where the fight had taken place.

The lake was deserted, as it usually was during the fights. No one was interested in fishing or swimming when they could go watch two dragons fight over a third. And that was a good thing, because Tamorn preferred to nurse his wounds in private.

The lake water was cold when he waded in, making him hiss faintly at the shock. It stung in the first patches of raw skin where scales had been torn away, then settled into a gentle ache. As he moved deeper, blood began to tint the water around him, trickling from the bites in his shoulders and haunches, dripping steadily from deeper scores from Bentu’s claws. The worst was near the base of his tail, where Bentu had struck him repeatedly, until scales and skin were completely ripped away and the flesh beneath was shredded. He had heavy muscle there, or Bentu might have scored the bone, but it was still a serious wound, and one he could do very little about. Tradition dictated that wounds from mating fights were to be left alone by healers.

Finally deep enough, Tamorn folded his legs beneath himself and settled into the sand and mud of the lakebed, arching his neck to just keep his nostrils above the water. He stayed still, feeling the burning of his injuries fading slowly.

Eventually the scent of his blood drew fish to him, and there was a kelpie chasing after them. A young one, which darted around him in pursuit of the fish for a while, then lost interest and nosed the messy wound near his tail. Tamorn growled softly. The kelpie fled.

The sun began to sink, turning the cool blue world Tamorn rested in to rich emerald green. He blinked slowly, adjusting to the change, and shifted to take weight off the only foot he’d hurt, stamping on Bentu’s tail to distract him so he could sink his teeth into his unprotected side. This had worked quite well, but Bentu’s tail still had spines, and they still hurt when they went into the pad off his foot.

A burbling whinny startled him out of a light doze. Turning towards the sound, he found that the kelpie had returned with two older kelpies and a mermaid in tow. The four circled him, keeping a respectful distance. Then the mermaid shooed the youngster away and drifted over to float in front of Tamorn.

“A mating fight?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“You were bested, I see.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Would you object to our care? Your blood is exciting a few things that shouldn’t be excited.”

Tamorn bared his fangs in a grin.

“Be my guest.”

It was always good to get around the rules.