Children of the Wildings Bonus Scene: Dragon Sighting in the Bentwood Valley
TORRIN ARDISS WAS in the yard of the Coltors’ house looking over a new string of range horses with Coltor, who happened to be both his boss and his father-in-law. The new horses were a fine bunch, Torrin reflected as he watched them exercising in the yard. Even as a young cowhand freshly moved away from his parents’ home, he had had a good sense for horses, and now, as Coltor’s foreman, he was responsible for acquiring new horses. This string was sturdy, responsive, fast and spirited enough to go after runaway cattle, but also well-trained enough to not panic in a difficult situation.
“That one’s a little contrary,” Coltor said, nodding his head at a buckskin gelding that kept wanting to go left when the stable hand exercising him said right. “Not that that’s a bad thing; we don’t want to break all the spirit out of an animal.”
Torrin nodded agreement. “I think Sparky can handle him,” he said, referring to a cowhand who was also a mage, who got his nickname from his affinity for working with fire.
“You’re right. They’ll get along. That one, that little mare, she needs a rider who can give her some confidence –”
A shriek pierced the air, echoing from the nearby mountains, with a rumbling note that seemed to make the earth shake beneath Torrin’s feet. Torrin yelped and his heart nearly stopped, and all those beautiful, well-trained horses let out their own panicked neighs and whinnies and started scattering every which way in the fenced yard. The stable hands scrambled to catch up with them all while shouting, “What was that?” and looking up at the sky.
Torrin also stared up at the sky, as did Coltor. “Where did that come from?” Torrin asked. The echoes had made it hard to tell where the source of the sound was.
“Torrin!” Shayla, Coltor’s half-A’ayimat daughter and Torrin’s wife, came running across the yard from the foreman’s house, snowy white hair flying loose from her bun, skirts held up in her hands to keep them out of the way. All five of their children ran after her, the youngest, the two-year-old, being unceremoniously hauled in his oldest sister’s arms. All of them had dusky-blue A’ayimat skin and Island-dark eyes, and the children’s hair was a mix of A’ayimat white and Island black. Coltor’s other grandchildren also ran out into the yard with their parents.
“What was that sound, Tor?” Shayla asked breathlessly when she reached him.
“Damned if I know,” Torrin said, watching the sky.
From beyond the tops of the pine trees surrounding the ranch compound appeared a creature flying in the air. It was huge, if it was really as far away as it looked to be.
“Hell of a big bird,” Torrin said. But no, something about it was most definitely un-birdlike.
“Holy hells,” Coltor breathed. “That’s no bird. Look at the wings.”
Torrin peered into the sky, squinting a little. Coltor was right; the wings looked more like bat wings, skin stretched between bony appendages. “What in the hells…?”
The creature cried out again, startling the horses anew. The cry was followed by a long, curling gout of flame.
“Holy hells,” Coltor said again. “It’s –”
“It’s a dragon!” Shayla exclaimed, smiling widely.
Torrin and everyone else stood speechless, watching the creature circling above the ranch. It had to be, a dragon, though no dragon had been seen in the Wildings in a thousand years or more, if they had ever really existed in the first place. Then Coltor swore. “Get those horses into the stables, now.” If the legends were true, the dragon was probably hungry and looking for a nice head of livestock to eat.
The ranch hands in the yard hurried to obey, Torrin and Coltor joining in to get the horses to safety. As they herded the horses into the stable, the dragon gave one more cry and, with mighty strokes of its wings, rose up higher and flew east towards the Bluecloud Mountains without sparing a glance for the horses.
“A dragon, Pa! It was a dragon! Grandpa, we saw a dragon!” the children clamored.
Torrin found himself grinning with the children, all thoughts of the danger to the horses fleeing his mind. “We sure did,” he said.
“Looks like it’s heading into the Blueclouds,” Coltor said. “I’ll ask my contacts up there if they saw them and if anything happened. Or maybe Kessie Vendine will come down for another visit soon.”
Torrin remembered Miss Kessie as a tiny infant back when he had traveled with the Vendine family during the Chardonikan troubles. She was a grown woman now, apprenticed to a healer with the Ta’ayatan clan up in the Blueclouds, and had been a valuable source of information for Coltor about what was going on with that difficult clan.
Shayla came to Torrin’s side; he put an arm around her waist and she leaned her head against him, both of them still gazing at the sky where the dragon had been. He held her closer, basking in the warmth of sharing this amazing experience. “I wonder if we’ll ever see it again,” she said wistfully. “I wonder if it’ll ever come back.”
“If it does,” her father growled, “it better not eat any of my horses.”
Would it come back? Torrin wondered. Were there more of them? Had this been a once-in-thousands-of-years event that he and his family had just been damned lucky to see, or was it only the beginning of something big?
Regardless of the trouble dragons could cause, Torrin found himself hoping he would see it again.
* * *
TORRIN ARDISS WAS in the yard of the Coltors’ house looking over a new string of range horses with Coltor, who happened to be both his boss and his father-in-law. The new horses were a fine bunch, Torrin reflected as he watched them exercising in the yard. Even as a young cowhand freshly moved away from his parents’ home, he had had a good sense for horses, and now, as Coltor’s foreman, he was responsible for acquiring new horses. This string was sturdy, responsive, fast and spirited enough to go after runaway cattle, but also well-trained enough to not panic in a difficult situation.
“That one’s a little contrary,” Coltor said, nodding his head at a buckskin gelding that kept wanting to go left when the stable hand exercising him said right. “Not that that’s a bad thing; we don’t want to break all the spirit out of an animal.”
Torrin nodded agreement. “I think Sparky can handle him,” he said, referring to a cowhand who was also a mage, who got his nickname from his affinity for working with fire.
“You’re right. They’ll get along. That one, that little mare, she needs a rider who can give her some confidence –”
A shriek pierced the air, echoing from the nearby mountains, with a rumbling note that seemed to make the earth shake beneath Torrin’s feet. Torrin yelped and his heart nearly stopped, and all those beautiful, well-trained horses let out their own panicked neighs and whinnies and started scattering every which way in the fenced yard. The stable hands scrambled to catch up with them all while shouting, “What was that?” and looking up at the sky.
Torrin also stared up at the sky, as did Coltor. “Where did that come from?” Torrin asked. The echoes had made it hard to tell where the source of the sound was.
“Torrin!” Shayla, Coltor’s half-A’ayimat daughter and Torrin’s wife, came running across the yard from the foreman’s house, snowy white hair flying loose from her bun, skirts held up in her hands to keep them out of the way. All five of their children ran after her, the youngest, the two-year-old, being unceremoniously hauled in his oldest sister’s arms. All of them had dusky-blue A’ayimat skin and Island-dark eyes, and the children’s hair was a mix of A’ayimat white and Island black. Coltor’s other grandchildren also ran out into the yard with their parents.
“What was that sound, Tor?” Shayla asked breathlessly when she reached him.
“Damned if I know,” Torrin said, watching the sky.
From beyond the tops of the pine trees surrounding the ranch compound appeared a creature flying in the air. It was huge, if it was really as far away as it looked to be.
“Hell of a big bird,” Torrin said. But no, something about it was most definitely un-birdlike.
“Holy hells,” Coltor breathed. “That’s no bird. Look at the wings.”
Torrin peered into the sky, squinting a little. Coltor was right; the wings looked more like bat wings, skin stretched between bony appendages. “What in the hells…?”
The creature cried out again, startling the horses anew. The cry was followed by a long, curling gout of flame.
“Holy hells,” Coltor said again. “It’s –”
“It’s a dragon!” Shayla exclaimed, smiling widely.
Torrin and everyone else stood speechless, watching the creature circling above the ranch. It had to be, a dragon, though no dragon had been seen in the Wildings in a thousand years or more, if they had ever really existed in the first place. Then Coltor swore. “Get those horses into the stables, now.” If the legends were true, the dragon was probably hungry and looking for a nice head of livestock to eat.
The ranch hands in the yard hurried to obey, Torrin and Coltor joining in to get the horses to safety. As they herded the horses into the stable, the dragon gave one more cry and, with mighty strokes of its wings, rose up higher and flew east towards the Bluecloud Mountains without sparing a glance for the horses.
“A dragon, Pa! It was a dragon! Grandpa, we saw a dragon!” the children clamored.
Torrin found himself grinning with the children, all thoughts of the danger to the horses fleeing his mind. “We sure did,” he said.
“Looks like it’s heading into the Blueclouds,” Coltor said. “I’ll ask my contacts up there if they saw them and if anything happened. Or maybe Kessie Vendine will come down for another visit soon.”
Torrin remembered Miss Kessie as a tiny infant back when he had traveled with the Vendine family during the Chardonikan troubles. She was a grown woman now, apprenticed to a healer with the Ta’ayatan clan up in the Blueclouds, and had been a valuable source of information for Coltor about what was going on with that difficult clan.
Shayla came to Torrin’s side; he put an arm around her waist and she leaned her head against him, both of them still gazing at the sky where the dragon had been. He held her closer, basking in the warmth of sharing this amazing experience. “I wonder if we’ll ever see it again,” she said wistfully. “I wonder if it’ll ever come back.”
“If it does,” her father growled, “it better not eat any of my horses.”
Would it come back? Torrin wondered. Were there more of them? Had this been a once-in-thousands-of-years event that he and his family had just been damned lucky to see, or was it only the beginning of something big?
Regardless of the trouble dragons could cause, Torrin found himself hoping he would see it again.
* * *
