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Dragon had been off hunting when a strange black furrball animal had attacked him. It had been like this pale tawny thing from before, but with horns and black and angry magic, but Dragon had fought it off. Yes! He was a dragon! Of course he had fought it off. It had slunk off into the swamp to lick its wounds, and he had roared (squeaked) triumphantly (pathetically) before making his way back down into the black water, along the waterways and to the great Divine. He'd lay there for awhile, hissing softly whenever the pain of the big cat's claw punctures pricked him too badly.

He'd realized, at length, that he was cold. He considered warming the branches beneath him, but he was exhausted with all that magic use, and anyway, wouldn't it be nice to lay back up underneath the Light Orb and rest basking in the heat? Yes! Yes, it would.

He had slowly crawled back up the ledges to the hanging orb, where he'd rested for several hours, dozing contentedly. Now he was awake again, and couldn't help but remember the fight.

Damn cats! Damn everything! And he was hungry again, to boot.

With a hiss, Dragon dragged himself down into the black water again, preparing to hunt.

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He had slipped slowly along the waterways for an hour or more, moving with the current, eyes flicking along the banks in his constant search for food. For sustenance. For offerings.

So far, though, he had found nothing. Only silence and darkness, the long marsh grass not even shifting in the faint currents of the air.

Eventually he went still, lurking in place beneath a likely-looking sharply-sloped dirt shelf, hoping that a creature might come and extend a neck down to drink. A deer, maybe, or a heron, like the one that Big Dragon had coughed up. But then--surely they were bad to eat? He'd have to remember that.

Alligators were ambush predators, and at heart, Dragon was no different. He was perfectly content lying there for the several hours that it took for prey to show itself; his mind wandered, drifting over the events of the last few days (his hatching, the dragon, the light, his hunts, the black angry-stupid-cat, the tan cat).

And then he caught the faintest flicker of movement slightly to his left. A mouse, he knew it was--like a rat only smaller, brown-gray. It was scurrying down to the surface of the black water.

Dragon began to slowly turn, expecting the mouse to drink, but instead it plopped in and began swimming, leaving a tiny arrow-shaped wake behind it. It was heading perpendicular to him, crossing the narrow inlet he'd come swimming in along, and he knew he had only an instant to try and snag it for his dinner.

He focused on his magic, the smoldering coal-fires inside of him hissing, and when he opened his maw, heat poured forth... and he burped. What? That wasn't hot air!

Something burning hot was on his tongue, a gob of it, and blinking, Dragon spat it out--aiming for the mouse. Maybe it'd burn it? Yes! Yes, it did! The burning bile had struck the poor little mammal right in the center of its back, and down it had sunk with a gurgling squeal before striking for the surface again. It would have almost certainly died from its wounds, but Dragon would never know--he'd only needed the delay, and now he snapped up the moues and ate it, content with this victory.

So... I can spit fire, too?!

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Dragon lay silently pondering, floating in the black marsh between a few clumps of reeds. He'd found that when ambush-hunting, he had plenty of empty time to fill--time he spent in thinking.

He needed something more. Food was all well and good, but all he could catch were small things, and sometimes it was all he could do to stay fed, himself. He was hunting more, and more actively, than any young alligator should have to--and as a result he was muscular, fit, and rather battered from some of the more aggressive prey. His mind was being honed, too, by all of his time thinking and guessing and wondering.

He had a mouse, half of a cave rat, half a rabbit, three dead fish, a dead dismembered Gembound and a dead frog on his pile--and he had a wounded snout, wounded neck and head, and scratched-up face to show for it.

The alligator hatchling wanted to give another offering to Aquarian--something that the creature would value, something that would attract its attention. The problem was, he had no idea what that might be.

He'd just have to keep his eyes open, that's all.

There was no prey here, in any case. He'd nearer to the Heart, and see what he could snatch up.

Dragon yawned, and stretched, and then, with a rather sudden burst of inspiration, tried to summon his magic and belch out another blast of superheated air. It was good to practice, after all.

The burst of air was certainly hot, but it didn't extend as far as he'd hoped--not like it had against the stupid black cat--and it wasn't quite as hot as he'd have liked. Maybe he should find a quiet place to practice his magic? ...Preferably somewhere with water, in case things went terribly wrong.

Dragon looked around. Lucky for him, Cetus was practically made of the stuff. He'd just have to pick someplace out-of-the-way.

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He chose a place where the black water was thick between reeds, where he could stand on the muddy shore to concentrate without fear of sinking.

Here, he sat and pondered for awhile. He could breathe burning air; he could burn things with his feet and his nose and his tail. He could also spit fire-stuff! ...Did that mean he had fire inside him? He thought that he did. He thought that when he breathed the hot air, it came from deep inside.

Could he find it? Maybe his whole body could be fire. Hmm.

Dragon focused, concentrating, trying to test just how far he could take this. ...There! THERE! He could feel the heat building inside his body, filling him; his skin began to smoke, and--

"OWWW!"

Dragon leapt a foot straight into the air, squeaking in pain. His skin was smoking slightly, a rancid odor of burning flesh filling the air. With another screech of pain he hit the ground and bolted into the water, which hissed and billowed steam as the burning alligator submerged.

All was silent and still for a moment bar the ripples on the marsh's surface--and then Dragon's head popped back up, jaws wide open. "Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch!"

He lay in the water for a bit, moving slightly to get to some that hadn't been warmed by his touch. It was cooler, and soothing, and he soon realized that the burning sensation was fading--he wasn't actually wounded. Or rather, not badly.

Was this the magic at work, then? ...It had to be. Wait, did that mean he'd succeeded?

Oh!

...Of course he'd succeeded!

Satisfied with this thought. Dragon slowly submerged himself again, letting the water nurse the pain in his flesh.

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The day had passed well enough; Dragon had captured two mice and a frog. He'd eaten one of the mice, and delicately deposited the other two carcasses, one by one, onto his offering pile.

Unfortunately, he now noticed something disturbing: there were rat pawprints all around the pile. And not just normal rat, by the looks of them. They were big--cave rats, no doubt. The last one had badly bitten up the crest of his neck and his snout, and he wasn't in too much of a hurry to get ambushed by a second one. But as he nosed around the corpses, he could find no sign that they had been disturbed. Most likely the thing had seen him coming, or heard him, and dashed or swam off.

But it left him with a dilemma. Really, he was a bit surprised, now that he thought about it, that it was only becoming an issue now. His pile of bodies was going to attract attention, one way or another--no doubt about that. He had to find a way to stop rats or other Gembounds or anything at all, really, from stealing or ruining his offerings!

How could he hunt, though, while keeping them protected? If he left to hunt, the bodies he'd already brought in would be eaten, stolen. If he stayed here, though, he couldn't add to the pile--they'd just rot!

He climbed slowly onto his pile, dislodging one or two of the smaller corpses and sending them tumbling to the offering-pyre's base. Claws tore through cold flesh and fur as he clambered to the top, and turned, curling up on the body-hill so that he could see over the marsh for at least a dozen yards in every direction.

Dragon was still lying there, thinking about how best to tackle this problem, when a rustling came from down below. He turned to peer down, and found that the cave rat had returned. It dashed back off the moment it saw the movement of his head, but this gave him an idea.

Maybe, just maybe, the pile would attract other scavengers. Scavengers that he could kill, and add to the pile! And the bigger this pile got, the more things it would attract!

Brimming with excitement, Dragon crept down and lay in the black water just beneath the pile, watching and waiting for his next victim to arrive.

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The coppery scent of blood filled the air, mingling with that delicious rancid stench of beautiful rot. Several fish had come to nibble at the bits of stringy flesh that wafted to and fro in the black marshwater current, and one or two Dragon had managed to snatch up, shake dead and add to the pile.

Now he could hear something slower approaching, something quiet-but-not, trying to be stealthy but rustling the swamp grass nonetheless.

He lifted his head slightly, turning it toward the noise, so that his eyes and snout protruded above the surface of the dark water.

Finally!

It was the rat, the big fat dark cave rat, just like the one that had bitten him badly up. He sank a bit in the water, cautious, as he remembered the pain--... Or wait, no, that still hurt! Stupid dry-furs!

He waited, eyes slowly flicking along to follow it. It was making its way up, pausing to sniff, stiff whiskers bristling. Now it crept along, nosing the marshy ground--and yes! Now it was swimming, swimming toward him and toward his wonderful stockpile of dragon-gift.

Dragon would not make the same mistake, this time: he would ambush it with magic, not giving the wicked-toothed monster a chance to bite him up.

The alligator focused, sinking slightly in the water as his head tracked the cave rat. Fire smoldered within, heat blossoming in his stomach, his jaws slightly parting beneath the mirror-black surface.

The air shimmered, and he lunged forward, superheated steam boiling out toward the rat. But he'd started too soon, the air bubbling noisily, and his prey had leapt backwards; the spell singed its whiskers and left it squeaking, but it certainly wasn't dead.

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Dragon froze for an instant, but he didn't give up there. He had to keep his head and stay at a distance, stay away from those chittering teeth and nasty claws.

His internal fire smoldered, and he tried on the cave rat the same thing he'd learned on a mouse earlier on. Bile surged up from inside of him, superheated--the searing burn along his throat and maw making him hiss in pain...

WHERE'S THE RAT?!

Superheated bile splattered into the swamp with a sizzling hiss as Dragon whipped around frantically to search for the giant rodent. For a split second there was nothing--his splashing in the empty black. Then there was a sudden weight on his back, and massive teeth biting into his flesh, digging in just where the other rat had bitten. He thrashed, struggling to throw it off.

"ROTTEN FLESH-BURROWING MUCK-EATING SPIT-BRAIN!" he squeaked.



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Dragon tried and twisted and turned, desperately snapping at the rat--but each time, his jaws closed on thin air with loud, sharp claps. He scrabbled and splashed and whirled in the black swamp water but it was BITING him and

IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS GET IT OFF--

He squealed and tried to roll in the water, but the snarling, gnawing rat held on tight. He could feel the sharply agonizing wounds from the first cave rat being reopened, and even expanded, like the rat was trying to burrow right into his body. With its TEETH!

A spray of his own, fresh blood splattered over the water to join his floating nasty hot sizzling bile, and the frantic alligator turned and dove down into the Heart of Cetus's deep black swamp to try and get this little evil thing off of him.

It wasn't letting go. It was KILLING him! It bit toward his spine without pause, gnawing as it would a stick or a bit of bone, gripping on with angry claws and lashing whip-tail. Dragon spun under water, in the dark, and it still didn't let go. Frantic, he turned back toward shore, his swim a swift glide with the powerful thrusting of his thick tail.

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He bolted back onto land when it became clear that apparently rats didn't need to breathe and he raced through the shallow water with splashes and his feet way up in the air and his tail waving about behind him and his mouth open and his eyes wide and--

"GET OFF GET OFF GET OFF GET OFF GET OFF!"

He veered abruptly, heading for the boulder that stood near his piled offerings to Aquarian. The rat was doing severe damage now, and he couldn't reach it, not with his maw, and--Oh! HIS MAGIC! He didn't HAVE to see it to get it off him!

He turned, hissing, rage boiling up inside him and burning his own flesh--it hurt, damn did it hurt, but not as bad as the rat's fangs had been hurting him. The smoke billowing out from his torn flesh filled the rat's nostrils and eyes, and did what cold black water could not: it forced the rat back, making it release its hold and cringe away from the horrific scent.

Dragon, rather than pursue, quickly backed up--keeping his gaping-open jaws facing the little evil, evilevilevil thing, his skin still pouring smoke like a signal fire.

Now... BURN it.

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A mixture of fear, anger and adrenaline-fuelled desperation drove him. The rat had sprung back, hissing and baring vicious fangs, and Dragon had virtually mirrored its actions, down to the growling hiss. He tried to summon up his magic again, to let the heat billow forth from his jaws, but he was already tired, already weakening.

The rat began to circle, and he quickly splashed to face it, keeping his jaws open as a warning.

Cold or hot, that maw would still be a threat.

The smoke tapered off until it was no longer pouring from his agonized skin, but he still smelled charred and rank. The rat seemed to be looking for an opening, moving deliberately, beady intelligent eyes locked on Dragon.

He turned in place, sides heaving, blood streaming down the back of his neck, awaiting its next move.

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