Breakfast
Hunger is what he knew. It was tolerable when the sun was at its peak or the night at its darkest, but somewhere in the twilight hours, that was when it started. Firefall huffed and scratched at the doors of the mountain hatchery. “Hurry up, would you?” He looked through Marshasp’s eyes at the scene inside—at his former den—and was disappointed to see it in shambles. There were bite marks on nearly all the furniture, and the bed was held up on one side by a precarious pile of books. Marshasp didn’t mind the chaos—he didn’t seem to mind anything, when it came to that man and his untamed brat—but even he was growing impatient this time. Caliban had knawed under the floorboards , dragged some pillows and eggs into the space, and then covered it poorly with a rug. It was time to go hunt, but the dragon was hissing inconsolably from within his ‘hidden’ burrow.
Prospero lifted up the rug to peer at the dragon. Despite his size, Caliban had slunk into the far area of the crawlspace and now sat brooding over the eggs. Prospero hoisted himself down, there was a bit of a scuffle, and eventually the dragon leapt out of the hole with several eggs in his mouth and little hands. The dragon locked eyes with Marshasp and a flicker of recognition passed through. Now was the time to hunt—now was the time to eat. He set down most of the eggs next to him, but turned his snout away when Marshasp tried to take the last egg. Prospero emerged with the rest of the missing eggs just in time to see Caliban gulp it down.
As soon as the dragon did the deed, there was a flurry of shouting and cursing from everyone involved. Everyone, except for Caliban, of course. Firefall rolled his eyes and disengaged from the spectacle. A pink belt hung in the sky where the sun’s first rays could curl over the horizon. In the distance, a bright light started to fade—Shérok, drawn close to Eredia in the celestial dance around the sun. Soon the sun would outshine it. Soon the hunger would be unbearable. Just as he was about to roar at the screaming trio, the door swung open and they all tumbled out. Caliban looked a bit perplexed and uncomfortable, Marshasp was holding an egg that looked a little slimier than usual, and Prospero’s undoubtedly angry expression was hidden under his mask.
“If you do that again, we’ll let you figure out how to pass it,” grumbled the Rider. Caliban licked at Prospero’s face to appease him. “Stupid, stop that. You’re doing something important today.” The dragon stopped, momentarily seemed aware of his duty, and then scratched at an itch with his hind leg. “You won’t get lost today, will you?”
Caliban nodded—he had learned that nodding was a good thing, but didn’t always use it properly. He would not get lost, nope—time to nod. Caliban looked towards the sunrise and unfurled his insect wings. As the sun’s rays finally pierced through the twilight, Caliban fluttered them and heated up their surface. He wagged his tail cheerily as the scales of his wings grew warm.
Firefall snorted and sent out a puff of smoke. “Why does your dragon act like a dog, Prospero?”
Prospero frowned and pat his dragon. “He does his best. So, why does your dragon act like an ass, Marshasp?”
Firefall growled and felt his scales rattle. Caliban snapped out of his pet-related bliss and hissed in response. He tried to rattle his scales as well, but they were near to shedding and produced a muffled hum instead.
Marshasp sighed and hopped onto his saddle. The dragon felt his Rider’s irritation—not at him, or at Prospero, or even at that brat Caliban, but at the time it was taking to leave. Firefall shifted his weight from leg to leg, balancing the saddle on his back and preparing for flight. “We don’t have time to waste. Can you fly yet, mutt?”
Caliban did a very good nod and started to thrum his wings. Despite his earth heritage, his insect wings were still delicate and couldn’t support Prospero on his back in flight. He lifted off in a clumsy fashion, but managed to hover quite well. A slight breeze from his wings caused the others to shiver in the snowy landscape. Caliban needed bigger prey, which meant aid from Firefall, which meant they would need to hunt together. Marshasp wasn’t strong enough to carry Prospero, and Firefall was unwilling, so the man needed to be left behind. It didn’t make him happy in the least.
Taking Caliban alone into the Chronoscape wasn’t an option—the man was attached and got nervous any time the brat hopped into another realm. They had bonded so swiftly that it was difficult to tell their connection was recent. Firefall felt a bit miffed that such a connection had not formed between him and Marshasp—at least until he remembered that it was Caliban’s stupidity that led to such a bond. In any case, the Chronoscape was not a solution to their growing appetites.
They would be testing the endurance of those flimsy wings and fly across the channel. Firefall had made the trip a few times—even carrying his Rider across was a simple matter, with him being so light. Caliban was another matter. His flight was haphazardous, with the wings barely holding the dragon aloft. The weight of the beast was something else, and his body hung limp underneath the busy wings. He knew nothing about aerodynamics, that was for sure. He operated on pure instinct.
Prospero was doing his best not to seem nervous. He looked about their surroundings—everywhere except the direction of the channel—and finally at Marshasp. “I’ll try to fix some things up while you’re gone.”
Marshasp nodded slightly. He hadn’t eaten, and thus, was in no mood to converse. Not even with Prospero. Firefall unfurled his wings and launched off the mountainside. He glided and beat his wings until he was safely above the treeline. He looked back to see Caliban buzzing straight forward, tongue lolling out and tail wagging him off balance. With that sort of momentum, he would have no trouble crossing the channel…landing on the other bank was another matter entirely. Firefall anticipated a spectacular crash…looked forward to it, even. He thought of the deer and elk and wolves across the channel, licking his lips and letting his ravenous side loose, only to realize it was a shared feeling from his Rider.
The Quetzalcoatl looked back at Prospero quietly; His thoughts were meandering about the best ways to hunt, and how best to keep Caliban from hurting himself on the landing. Even though he was able to feed on beasts and monsters, he was as hungry as ever, and growing weaker. It wouldn’t be long before his magic would be gone entirely. When that happened, would he be able to transform into his true form? Firefall stopped looking through his Rider’s eyes and focused on the flight ahead. He heard the hum of Caliban’s wings close behind him. It was almost time for breakfast.