DragonFolk

“The zorn has picked up the scent. The prey are straight ahead of us,” said Captain Thorfinnr.

DragonFolk, once feared by our ancestors, seem to have been forgotten. Thorfinnr and Sigmundr were the best pack hunters in the clan.

“Fresh uman will make leader happy, maybe he let us keep skulls this time,” said Sigmundr.

Thorfinnr cared little for skulls. He wanted the leader’s praise. The chief was old. A new prime would need to be selected. Thorfinnr wanted it to be him.

The zorn stopped to smell the air. Something was not right. “Zara, what’s wrong?” asked Sigmundr.

The beast crouched down and began to whimper. “I’ve never seen a zorn behave this way. Do you think there is another scouting pact after the umans?” asked Sigmundr.

Thorfinnr scanned the horizon and saw no signs of other DragonFolk. “I believe this is something different. Spread out and be ready,” said the captain.

The hunter advanced slowly, aware that they were vulnerable out in the open. “Over there,” said Thorfinnr as he motioned to the right.

Behind a large boulder, a bunch of feathers bobbed up and down. “What strange bird is that?” asked Sigmundr.

“Sigmundr, take Zara and circle the boulder. Attack once you are in position,’ said Thorfinnr.

Thorfinnr readied his long blade and waited for Sigmundr’s attack. It did not come.

The captain cautiously raised his head to peer over the boulder. What he saw sent a chill through him.

“Sig, are you OK?” cried Thorfinnr as he rushed to the motionless soldier. A long wooden stick protruded from his heart.

“What manner of trickery is this?” asked the captain.

Thorfinnr pulled the shaft from Sigmundr’s chest and examined it. “Where is Zara? Did she run off?” questioned Thorfinnr.

The soldier had his answer when he looked up and saw the zorn dead several meters away. “More shafts,” said Thorfinnr as he examined the dead beast.

“What is this stone object tied to the tip?” remarked Thorfinnr.

The captain received a reply to his question as an arrow pierced his armor, throwing him to the ground.

The wooden shaft missed his heart and lodged in his shoulder. Rising himself up, Thorfinnr saw a uman holding a large curved rod with a stone-tipped shaft attached.

“A weapon, umans have a weapon. Impossible, they’re nothing more than food. How is this possible?” asked the captain.

The uman drew back his arm, then released the arrow. The shaft slammed into Thorfinnr’s armor, piercing it and hitting Thorfinnr’s heart.

“Huh, Umans have a weapon,” was the captain’s last thought before he crossed over to the dragon mother.

Stories are told of a half-dragon, half-human creature. It lived long ago when man was but a beast himself.

Fairytales, most call them. A few know the truth, and if you ask, they will tell you we’re lucky to have survived the DragonFolk.

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