Wings of Change

by Lyn Worthen

  “I’ll go get my daddy to help you, it will be ok,” said the human. Its voice sounded not fully formed. “He’s going to be so mad at me, I’m so not supposed to be out here,” it muttered as it slowly walked away.

  “Wait!” Esme called out. “I’m okay. I’m not supposed to be out here either,” Esme said, making her voice sound like another human’s. She’d learned how to do that just last year. She had no idea she’d need the skill so soon.

  “Are you sure? It sounded like a big fall. Did something land on you?”

  “No, I fell on it,” Esme said, mimicking a light laugh. She shifted a bit, slowly so as not to give away her real size. She took a peek with one eye through the branches.

  It was a young human girl. Her dark brown hair was in braids, and she wore blue pants and red and white striped shirt. Esme had been told that humans did not change their colors, so this girl would keep her dark hair. Unlike Esme, who was in the process of molting away the dark brown colors of childhood.

  “Are you hurt?” The human girl looked so concerned.

  “No, not at all. It was fun!” Esme assured her.

  “Fun? Can I try?”

  “I don’t think so,” Esme said cautiously.

  The girl bent her long legs and knees and leaped headfirst right into the thickest pile of branches.

  Esme reacted without thinking. She launched herself skyward, and even though her wings were not yet big enough to fly, they were big enough to let her catch a small human. She scooped the tender pink fleshed being into the folds of her wings and twisted in the air, using her tail to shift her balance so she landed on the ground first. She rolled a few times, before coming to a stop against large tree.

  Ouch, that had hurt. She hoped her growing scales hadn’t taken any damage. Especially to her wings. If they had, she might not ever fly. So many of her kind could not fly anymore.

  The young human in her grip squirmed, so she carefully let her go, furling her flaking, itchy wings.

  The girl jumped back, staring, with her mouth hanging open.

  Oh no. A human had seen her in full dragon form. The one thing that was never, ever, ever supposed to happen. The whole reason she’d been raised in these deep forests and not allowed out during the day while she was growing and too young to change her form.

  Her mother was going to kill her.

  “What did you do that for?” the human girl frowned.

  “Do what?”

  “Stop me!”

  “Stop you?” Esme was confused. Humans were supposed to run away screaming. Then she’d escape home, tell her mother, and they’d fly away before the murdering mobs with fire, or the determined knights with their swords could come. It’s how her species had survived, hiding and running.

  “Yeah, you stopped me from having fun, too!” The young girl sounded outraged. But not murderous.

  “Oh,” Esme blinked and looked at the human carefully. Her eye was about the size of the small human’s head. “That. Well, it was fun for me, but I think for you it would cause much damage.”

  “Damage?” the girl crossed her arms and frowned again.

  Esme searched for the right human word that might convey what she meant, “Yes. Big thorns cut your skin, right?”

  “Thorns?” the girl uncrossed her arms, and looked again at the bramble patch a few feet away.

  “They cut you, right?”

  “Yes,” the human girl said. She eyed the brambles again. “That’s a thorn patch?”

  “Oh yes!” Esme could not help the delight that filled her voice. “Big scratchy ones! I did not want you hurt.”

  “But they don’t hurt you?” the human girl blinked. She stared even harder, as if she was realizing for the first time she was talking to something else entirely.

  “I don’t think so. Mother says I need to be careful not to damage my skin, but it feels so good to scratch!”

  “Is that your skin coming off?” The girl said, shocked.

  Esme blushed furiously, “Well, yes. But it happens to everyone! Everyone grows up and has to lose their baby skin and become adults!”

  “Oh, that!” The young girl nodded. She plopped herself down on the ground. She looked up at Esme and smiled, leaning back on her arms almost like she was reclining.

  Esme lay on her belly, and propped her head on her forearm, so her eye was on the same level.

  “Yeah, my mom gave me that book just last week. ‘Your body is changing now, Mary, it’s all perfectly normal.’ Perfectly embarrassing is more like!” The human girl laughed.

  “Do you lose your skin, too?” Esme blinked. Maybe humans lost their skin but the new skin just came in the same color?

  “No, nothing so awful like that! Other stuff happens, though.” Mary saw Esme’s blush this time. “Oh! Sorry! I didn’t mean YOU are awful. I mean. Well, you kinda are with all those flaking-off bits, but not really. Oh no! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you!”

  “It’s okay. It looks worse than it is. Except the itching. The itching is really bad!” Esme said.

  “It itches? Like, really bad? Like chicken pox bad?” Mary shuddered. “I had the chicken pox when I was young and that was awful!”

  “It probably does itch that bad,” Esme said.

  “Yeah, you probably never had the chicken pox, huh?” After a slight pause, Mary asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Esme,” she answered.

  Mary hesitated, before she asked, “Esme, can I ask you a question?”

  Esme frowned, hadn’t the girl already asked one? “Yes.”

  “What are you, exactly?”

  “Um, what do you think I am?” Esme had a brief hope that maybe she wasn’t going to be in as much trouble as she thought.

  “Well, you look like a dragon…, sort of.”

  “Sort of?” Esme could not keep the dismay from her tone.

  “Well, you are kinda brown, and your skin is falling off. But dragons never look like you in the books!”

  “I told you, I’m growing,” Esme blushed again.

  “Yeah, me too. I won’t always look like this, either. Mom says I’ll grow boobs and have to keep boys away from me.”

  “What are boobs?” Esme asked.

  “Um, these things that grow big here, but only on women,” Mary said, pointing to the middle of her shirt.

  “Oh.” Esme was not sure what Mary was talking about.

  “You don’t grow boobs? Are you even a girl? You seem like a girl, but I should probably ask.”

  “I’m a girl, a female, yes. But I won’t grow boobs.”

  Mary grunted. “What are you growing, then? Is it like adult teeth that push out your baby teeth?”

  “Kind of, I’m growing scales.”

  “Scales? Like fish?”

  “More like birds, maybe, but different.”

  “Cool! Does that mean you’ll be able to fly?”

  “I hope so. It depends on how well I molt and on making sure I don’t damage myself.”

  “Like scratching with too big a thorn?”

  “Yes! Exactly!”

  “That’s cool. Weird, but cool.”

  The two girls fell silent. In the distance an owl hooted. Esme noticed that Mary seemed just as comfortable as she was in the forest.

  “I’d probably better get back before my Dad notices I’m gone,” Mary said.

  “Me too,” Esme checked the moon to make sure not too much time had passed. “You won’t tell him about me, will you?”

  “Why don’t you want me to?” Mary asked.

  “Well, no. I’m not really supposed to be here, you see.”

  “Yeah, me neither. No, I won’t say anything. If I did, Dad would know I snuck off! He says these woods are dangerous, with predators and things out here!” Mary looked sharply at Esme. “You aren’t a predator, are you?”

  “I don’t think so, are you?”

  Mary laughed, “Dad says we are. He’s really big into conservation, and says that we are the wors
t predators ever to walk the earth.”

  Esme tended to agree with that, from what she knew of her own kind’s decimation at the hands of humans, but she thought it would be rude to say so. Besides, Mary did not seem intent on decimating anyone.

  “But I think he means wolves and bears. Or maybe stupid hunters,” Mary continued.

  “The wolves and bears aren’t really interested, I don’t think. Are there hunters out here? I thought hunting season was still months away?” Esme was concerned now. Hunters were exactly the kind of humans her mother warned her about.

  “It is. You look scared.”

  “Hunters are scary,” Esme said.

  “I certainly agree with you on that!” Mary said as she stood up and brushed the dirt off her pants. “Thanks for saving me from all the thorns earlier.”

  “No problem,” Esme smiled. Mary recoiled a bit at the show of Esme’s fangs.

  “Woah! Those things are huge!” The human girl reached out and touched one, shocking Esme. “That’s, like, as long as my hand!”

  Esme held perfectly still, not wanting to accidentally cut the girl. She made a low grunting noise in her throat, since she couldn’t really speak without moving her tooth.

  Mary pulled her hand back swiftly, “Oh! Sorry! My cat hates it when I do that, too! Though he’ll bite me for it, so thanks for not biting me!”

  Esme nodded, “It’s been very interesting meeting you!”

  “Wanna meet up again tomorrow night?” Mary asked. “There is a fantastic bank of thick thorn bushes down by the creek about a mile upstream.”

  Esme’s interest was definitely piqued, “There is?”

  “Oh yeah, we were going to camp there, but couldn’t get to the water.”

  “That would be very nice!”

  “If I don’t make it, it’s not ‘cause I don’t like you,” Mary said, “It’ll be because my dad didn’t fall asleep, or I got in trouble for being out tonight.”

  Esme snorted, nodding her head, “Me too. My mom would kill me if she knew I was talking to a human!”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Well, you are kind of known for killing dragons.”

  “Oh! I suppose that’s true. Dad says we make a lot of species extinct. I guess we nearly did that to you, huh?”

  “Yes,” Esme said. “There aren’t many of us left.”

  “That’s so sad!” Mary gave Esme a quick hug around her neck. “Oh, hey, you are soft!”

  “So are you,” Esme laughed.

  “I guess I am! I hope I can see you tomorrow!”

  “Me too!”

  With that the young girl with braids in her dark hair ran off into the darkness. Esme listened to her retreating footsteps, memorizing the pattern of them so she could identify her new friend from a distance.

  She waddled home, stretching her wings from time to time, letting the itchiness under them get some air and stretching their growing muscles.

  Esme should probably tell her mother there were humans nearby, but she did not want to get in trouble for leaving home when she was not supposed to be out.

  # # #

  Esme was eager to sneak out the next night, and thought she might burst her flaking skin right off waiting for her mother to fall asleep.

  Traveling along the creek was easier than the woods, and made it easy to cover the sounds of her footfalls. The open areas, edged with thicker trees allowed her to stretch her wings out. It felt good to flap them and when she timed it just right she could make big leaps. She imagined what it would feel like to fly. More often, however, she stumbled and slipped on her landings. At least the water was soothing on her itchy skin.

  She passed several thorn patches, but she was not quite sure which one was the one Mary had referred to. None were really big enough for a good roll around, so she kept going.

  Mary eagerly waved from one side of the creek as she spied Esme coming down the waterway.

  “Boy, you really are loud, you know that?” Mary said.

  “I am?” Esme was dismayed.

  “You gotta learn to blend in, if you don’t want hunters to find you!”

  “Are there hunters out here?” Esme looked around, her nose testing the air to smell for other humans.

  “No, not that I know of. But if there were, they’d come with their guns to see what was making such a ruckus. How do you keep from getting discovered?”

  “We hide, mostly, or camouflage. Or fly elsewhere when the humans start coming in,” Esme said.

  “Camouflage?”

  “Yeah,” Esme had to be very careful what she said next. She could not reveal the secret of her kind to a human, even a friendly one like Mary. “Like chameleons.”

  “You can change colors?”

  “Yes, but only adults can.”

  “So that’s why your scales are green today, and they weren’t yesterday?”

  “My scales are green?” Esme twisted and contorted trying to see herself. The color one’s scales became was never known until it happened. It was one of the great mysteries among her people.

  “Yeah, look at your leg,” Mary pointed to Esme’s back legs, which had been in the water most of the night.

  Esme lifted it delicately, and sure enough, where the molting was nearly done, and the scales lay in neat patterns, there was just the hint of an emerald hue.

  She was going to be a green dragon! She danced around the water, using her wings to shower herself and see if she could expose any more.

  Mary laughed and dove away from getting splashed, “I guess water helps the molting, too.”

  “I guess so!” Esme said, delighted.

  For the next several weeks Esme and Mary met up either in brambles or in the water. They became such good friends, that Esme was getting very worried her mother would catch on to her sneaking out and they would have to leave.

  When her mother saw the emerald-hued scales, she was very pleased, saying it was surprising how fast Esme was shedding her skin. She checked over all the scales, and so far, none were damaged. Esme began to think that water might have been what was helping her so much, since much of her molting seemed to happen more smoothly after her time in the creek.

  Water, her mother had always warned her, was where humans often caught and killed them, so for a very long time dragons had stayed away from water.

  Each night Mary was determined to get Esme to practice being stealthy and to move in the forest as quietly as its other denizens.

  “Why do you insist we do this?” Esme asked her, their third night at it.

  “It’s fun, isn’t it?”

  “Well, yes, sort of.”

  Mary shrugged, “You are worried about hunters and say you can’t camouflage until you are more grown. Daddy says they just changed the laws about this forest, and are going to allow a lot more hunters in come fall. I don’t want you to get shot!”

  Esme was dismayed. But after that, she practiced hiding in darkness and staying perfectly still, and walking without making so much noise. She was surprised to find the small creatures still managed not to get crushed by her. Even more so, since they did not seem to get so terrified. Esme liked that. She was starting to feel like she was becoming at home among these trees she loved so much.

  Her mother thought she was green, because she loved the trees. Her mother had been raised in the ocean, so long ago, and had become a slate grey, the color of a stormy sea. Most dragons had become muted colors, as their numbers dwindled, and her mother hoped it was a good sign that Esme was brighter, like the colors of old. Though she urged Esme to practice changing her colors every day.

  Between her mother’s urgings, and Mary’s lessons at woodcraft and stealth, Esme quickly learned how to shade her forming scales into suitable camouflage.

  Soon the nights began to cool, and Esme knew she would have to tell her mother what she knew about the humans’ upcoming hunting season. But she did not want to leave her friend just yet.

  Then, the unthinkable happened. She and
Mary were playing in the water of the creek. Mary was helping her scratch under her growing wings. They were almost big enough she could keep to the air for several sweeps, and her landings were getting much more coordinated and silent, thanks to Mary’s urgings.

  “Mary! Where are you!” shouted an adult male voice from the edge of the creek.

  Mary’s eyes went wide, “I’m so sorry,” she whispered to Esme.

  “I’m fine, Daddy!” Mary called out.

  Esme furled her wings, and tried to hold as still as possible in the water, blending in with her environment.

  “I told you never to leave the camp at night!” The man’s voice was much closer. He walked almost silently along the creek’s edge. Esme had not even noticed his approach. She whispered the words of hiding in her native draconian language, words her mother taught to her as a child’s song as long ago as she could remember. The words blended in with the sounds of the creek. Even Mary did not look at her.

  “I know, Daddy, I’m sorry.”

  “Who is that with you?” Mary’s father began to sound alarmed.

  Mary turned and looked at Esme. She gasped in shock, “This, this is Esme. My friend.”

  Esme wanted to cry. Her camouflage had not worked. She just hoped she could get home to her mother and they could escape before the adult humans came to murder them.

  “Hello, Esme, you aren’t out here alone, are you?” Mary’s father said.

  “No, Daddy, she’s staying with her mother. We’ve been playing together,” Mary said quickly.

  Esme raised her forearm to wave, hoping her claws would not alarm the man.

  She stared in shock at her own arm. It looked like a human hand. The more she stared at it, it began to shimmer, and the small green scales of her forearm began to show along the skin. She shook her head, and again whispered the words of hiding. The arm solidified into human shape again.

  “Hi Mary’s dad, nice to meet you!” Esme called out, glad she had practiced speaking the human language all summer.

  “You girls should probably get out of the water and dry off,” he said.

  Esme and Mary looked at each other both of them thinking wildly.

  “My clothes are on the other side of the creek, sir. I didn’t want them to get wet,” Esme said.