The continuing adventures of Cayas, a dragon lost and alone... in this chapter, emboldened by a good reset of his body clock, he endeavours to grant himself some home comforts... and find the curious creatures he spotted the day before...

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Stormblown; Chapter 2

Cayas woke with a slow yawn, hesitating before stretching his wings. The throb of pain in one of them was sobering, and a harsh reminder. The storm, lost at sea… and the strange new place he had washed up. He allowed himself a long, dismal moment of self-pity, sprawled in the cavern. The stiffness in his joints when he moved was enough to convince him that laying on the cold, hard stone all day would be neither productive, or pleasant.
Arching his long back, the dragon rose, blinking in the blue tinted gloom, the glow of his luminous markings was dimming. They needed the touch of the sun to brighten again. His limbs felt heavy, an always unnerving delay between desire and action, every step happening whole seconds after he willed it. The cold dragon staggered out of the cavern, into the warm beams of sunlight. He was in luck… the day was warm and sunny again.
Cayas collapsed to his belly in the light, head settling on his paw as he let himself warm up. He missed his skylight. Waking to bright mornings as the sun flooded his home chamber with light and heat. His eyes considered his immediate surroundings as he slowly perked up, rocky soil, and trees descending down the slope for the endless sea. Would it be worth walking to the beach again and exploring along the shore?
As he considered his day, a light scent drifted to his senses, bringing memory with it. Of course, he had planned to try and find and follow the trail of the small, flat faced primate he had seen. He interrogated himself to whether that was frivolous, but a food source was important.
Freshly warmed, Cayas rose and padded back into the dank cavern, the rough walls better illuminated by his refreshed glow. He sat once more before the wall, looking over his scratching from the day before. He spread his one good wing slightly, to let its wider patterns shed their glow on the wall before lifting a claw to the stone to write again.
“I find myself reflecting on the good a sleep can do for one’s state of mind, when you’ve chosen it yourself. A fresh day. A hunger sated, and a stomach no longer dragging at one’s energy for its work, a slaked thirst, for now, and a good rest. I look back at my pessimism with a little shame” he paused, regretting the words even as he wrote them. He didn’t feel that optimistic, just well rested “regardless, a new day means new progress. I still cannot escape this place with an injured wing, and rescue remains my best hope” he sighed, small hope as that was “basking in the sun, gave me a thought. If I must stay here, I ought to plan for the worst case. Find longer food supplies, and perhaps even try and improve this hole I rest in. I have no wish to make a home of it, but a few small touches wouldn’t take too much effort, but could bring comfort for as long as I stay. If nothing else to remind me every day that I’m not the, primitive I have to be here, not in heart”
Cayas paused, considering the wall, ears drooping as he resumed his writing “I barely dare admit, I know I’m distracting myself. I need to keep my momentum, keep improving, keep working. I fear if I stall, I will have a whole new fall. Each victory is small, but a victory none the less”
He sighed, easing back from his writing, considering it. He barely knew how he felt… one moment he let himself be optimistic, think of all he should try and do. Then he remembered why he had to, and it brought him low. This was a turbulent flight.
The cave had little else to offer him, so Cayas turned and padded out for the day, re-emerging in the light. Concerned for the state of the trail, he dipped his muzzle, and nosed around in the brush near his den. Some faint trace of scent… but too many scents he didn’t know to even hope of tracking the beast from the night before, not without a good reference for its scent. He had no wish to get lost in the woods.
It was disheartening to abandon that plan so quickly, but he put that aside. If they were a local species, he’d spot another eventually, maybe even see if they actually tasted good.

While Cayas had never considered himself anything of a builder, he had arranged enough twigs as a dragonling to, he hoped, have a basic concept of, well, gravity at least. So he mused as he sat before the entry of his cavern, considering it. He needed to bask in the heat, in all weather. And if nothing else, the view was nicer outside. A nice overhang or something would offer him a place to lay with some protection from the elements… and make this hole in the ground look just a touch more civilised. He also, he mused as a bitter thought, should really dig a hole for his, leavings… he thanked the slowness of his metabolism that the issue hadn’t quite, reared itself yet.
There were trees aplenty around… and clearing a wider area around his cavern might help any rescuer dragons spot him. He could hope.
The first victim of his hunt came into view… it was a strong enough looking tree. Enough to provide a support, Cayas hoped. The dragon padded around the tree, pushing with his snout, then his forepaws. It was sturdy, yes. While it shook from his attacks, the bark tearing a little, it was firmly rooted.
Should he try to uproot it…? Cayas flicked his tail as he considered the problem. Then he’d have the roots to deal with, and it wouldn’t look very, civilised to rescuer dragons. A cut tree, that looked like something intelligent lived nearby… sort of. At least something capable of a smooth cut. He didn’t exactly have the knowledge or tools though.
His tail flicked, faster, as Cayas thought with deeper fervour… till the tail stopped, and the dragon looked back to it, lifting his tail. The tip blade “that could work… right?”
Cayas lined his rump up with the tree, swishing his tail little as possible, looking to where he wanted to cut it, huffing to himself. This was how primitive dragons first cut trees, right? The beginning of their precision work came from a precise and strong tail-stroke.
He swung his hips away from the tree, and then back, firming the muscles down his tail as he brought it for the trunk. The blade missed, scaled tail striking the bark with force. Pain lanced up his spine, bringing a hiss through Cayas’s gritted fangs. He sat, and curled around himself, pawing for his tail as his eyes watered… pain, and more pain, throbbing up his tail. It hurt so much… why did it hurt so much. He saw a few cracked scales, nothing major… but it hurt. Deep breaths tore from his fangs for a long few moments, but finally the pain began to ebb to a low throb, leaving the dragon feeling sorry for himself.
Once he rolled back to his paws, he considered the tree again, bringing the bladed tip right to the bark, swinging his hips barely at all, to let it tap to the tree. The next sway was a little further, enough he was sure he saw a crack in the bark. And this he continued, tapping the tree in small, glancing blows. The cut wasn’t smooth, it was ragged, uneven, a mess of different angle cuts, which by sheer overlay on each other was slowly cutting through the tree.
It wasn’t the heartening victory he needed to make it feel worth the remaining ache in his tail, but at least he felt sure the tree would come down for him. Yet progress seemed to further slow as he reached the heart of the tall tree, not just that, his swiping tail didn’t always get into the groove he had cut. Frustrated, Cayas turned, growling and shouldering to the tree, pushing, clawing, till with a deep crack, and prolonged creak, the tree snapped at the point of damage. It tore more than broke, jagged spears of ripped wood stuck from the fallen tree, but… it was snapped free of the stump.
Cayas grasped it with his talons and began to pull. It was heavy, but it moved. He sighed past his fangs and tugged it back for the entrance to his cavern. His heart sunk as he considered how many more he may need.

By the time he stopped, his tail felt bruised and heavy. Still, the results of his efforts were, a heap of cut trees settled before his den. Cayas sat to consider them with a frown. Now what.
With his foreclaws he stripped away smaller branches and leaves… he could use those later, but he focussed on cleaning up the firm logs of tree. With his talons he raked holes in the rocky dirt, and pushed the trees in till they stood upright, settling what wood remained and the loose branches atop his, canopy. When done, he sat back, considering the… primitive structure. Four sunken logs, keeping the others aloft. He’d used his talons to scratch the tip of the standing ones into a point, and to dig holes in the sides of those atop so he could lock them together… the branches were looser, but the thickest had covered the gap, and the smaller, filled the small spaces. He felt certain it would leak. But he felt some pride in the efforts. Something to show for it.
Still, it was wearily he sat himself before the newly improved entryway and considered his next moves. This should be enough to catch the attention of any dragons flying overhead… hideous and crude it might be, but surely nothing but a dragon could make something that looked like this… His appetite was, sated, but his empty stomach was hardly opposed to his thought of getting more food. A pang echoed from it, but only gently… just a reminder, for now. He supposed he could go drink, but he might like that spot to feel safe again for potential prey, besides… water he used efficiently. Not that he thought he’d quite overcome his powerfully salty preserved first meal.
A calm wander on the shore was sounding more and more charming… till a sound caught his attention.
With ears perked, he resisted the urge to turn on the spot, instead moving his head in what he hoped would seem a natural, calm way, turning his eyes for the noise. And there it was.
Just in the corner of his vision, he saw the movement. It was the primate again, it was an unmistakable, ragged little mammal. He saw it, watching him from the low brush and keeping low. As nonchalantly as he could manage, he flopped down to rest, settling his head under a paw, and peering at the creature through the gloom.
It seemed, taken aback, swaying, but conveniently it seemed to conclude it could move a little closer. Such a strange beast. It was standing taller on its hind legs. He assumed it could run on all fours, and yet… its forepaws were being used to carry something. It looked like a sharp stick, a tool then. Surely it wasn’t hunting him… although, who knew what oddities might happen in a primitive mind, encountering a species it didn’t know… perhaps the only things it knew that were his size were some sort of, placid herbivore…
He let his tail swing closer to it, not, too close, but the movement made it spring back. The movements it made with its stick were, actually quite agile. Interesting. It seemed more than a sharp object it had randomly picked up. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first creature to select its tools with care.
The ploy seemed to work, it was spooked, and started to move away. But indeed, it clutched its stick tightly, and fled on hind legs. So, he hadn’t been mistaken.
Though his tickled curiosity desired a quick pursuit, Cayas forced himself to wait and when he rose, did so slowly, padding in the direction the creature had gone. Its scent was stronger now, easier to pick out. He rumbled, it would lead him to the troupe…

Despite his best efforts, following the trail proved, a lot more difficult than he anticipated. He recalled in sensual schooling, admittedly one of his least favourite subjects, the trials he had to pass following scents. It did not translate well to reality. Scents crossed, similar scents… presumably the same species, ran across the path. At times it had moved down beaten trails where so many scents of its kind were heavy, it was a nightmare to follow the right one out, when it split into groups of scents, long before it split to individual paths. It was somewhere far ahead of him on the trail, so long gone he hoped the scent wouldn’t be lost entirely. At points he feared it was so… till he realised the creature seemed to have… some tricks to divert its scent trail. Clever.
In time though, sounds caught at his senses. Faint, but strange. Strange enough he dared hope it was the troupe. A quick survey of the ground showed they seemed to live in a valley of sorts… so he crept up for higher ground and a better vantage.
Each step he took carefully, he wanted to… keep them from spooking so he could observe. It took a while, but he got higher, till a break in the trees gave him a peek to what had to be their nest.
The nest was a lot more complex than he had assumed. Not the, nests of leaves, but actual structures, not so unlike what he had been building that morning. Primitive, held together by sticks and, what seemed knotted plant fibres. It lacked the intricate grace of a spider, or the workmanship of an ant… but they were holding together, offering the creatures shelter. It still seemed quite a commitment. Maybe they were quite set on their nest location. Amid them, he couldn’t tell the one he had seen, but a quick eye over a few told him one thing. The one that had been watching him was a pup. They were a strange shape, tall and gangly, constantly on the hind legs. Yet, he rarely spotted one in the nest without something or other grasped in the forepaws. Interesting. He’d remembered being taught about primates. The closest creature amid the mammals of attaining their level of intellect. But shy of it. Many used tools. This breed had clearly been using tools for quite some time, long enough nature had adapted them for it.
Cayas frowned a bit as he watched them. They had clearly adapted some of the sticks and rocks into, improvised claws. It extended their already, interestingly long reach. He’d never faced prey that used tools as, some sort of… weapon, not like this. Were his wing well, he’d feel confident… but, it made no sense to risk an unknown while he was injured. Maybe this troupe wouldn’t be as easy a meal source as he hoped. It would depend whether a hunt would make them scatter or stand together like a horned herd. What little he saw showed a sociality… social touching, sounds between themselves… very primate. It wasn’t worth the risk, not yet anyway.
The edge of his curiosity was ebbed, and the hint of wind beginning to blow in the canopy was enough to convince him to end his observation for the day. He followed his own trail back best he could. At least he’d left… signs, broken plants, and shunted trees. Negative was that the creatures may notice. But he wasn’t too concerned. He’d probably register as too big to hunt, they’d probably avoid his trail, assuming it the hunting path of something hungry… and they wouldn’t be wholly wrong. What worried him, was whether it would provoke the troupe to move on, sensing large predators nearby. Then he might lose a lucrative density of food…

The wind was picking up as he made his way home. Now he was glad he hadn’t gone to the beach. Last thing he needed was sand across his snout, up his nose and in his eyes, or blowing over the wounded wing. The trees he moved through were both blessing and curse. The blustery gale snagged at his wing, making it ache more sharply and threatening to lift it into the path of a tree. Still, the forest provided more shelter for the wounded wing than he imagined he’d get in the open.
Another benefit, he hoped, was a dispersing of his scent. He remembered hearing mammals had good sense of smell… he wasn’t sure about primates but, he would sooner not risk it. The less they could track him the happier he’d be. Either those primates, or something else.
He needed a name for them, now that he thought about it… he couldn’t keep calling them, the primates… what if he encountered more types out here. But nothing sprung to mind.
Pushing on, the trees began to thin, and the ground beneath gained a crunchy, rocky texture… he was almost back to the cave, he was sure of it.
Cayas paused, trying to figure out which way to go, when a low, grinding creak of sound got his attention. Following it, he found his cave, just in time for the collapse. Before his eyes the structure he had put together toppled, wood splintering where he had carved the joints, rocky soil proving insufficient as the impaled trees just ripped up through it. The whole canopy collapsed to one side in an anticlimactic heap. A creak of straining wood and a thud of crumpling ambitions.
The dragon sighed and padded closer. Better it happen now than when he was under it… his eyes briefly took in the, ripped heap that had been his work of the day. He shook his head. His jaws dipped, gripping the heaped branches he’d used for a roof in his fangs. The larger logs he trusted would stay put through the wind, the smaller branches may not… and while he was sure he’d find a use for the wood eventually, these branches, he had a use for now… or the potential of a use.
Dismal, the ache in his injured wing reignited to irritating levels, Cayas padded into the nicely still air of his cave. He was too weary and miserable and generally feeling sorry for himself to get angry. The ache just locked him into his pessimistic mood.
He dropped the branches in a heap by the tunnel into the wider cave, yawning and sitting by the walls, lit in his glowing patterns. Their light was growing slowly… perhaps in the trees he hadn’t gained as much, direct light on them.
With hope of at least one success, he turned his focus on the heap of branches, padding closer to them. His jaws he kept slightly ajar, breathing slowly as he felt his mouth going dry. Carefully, he probed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, rubbing till a light, damp spurt dripped free. He poked his tongue out over the branches, tiny flicks, till the liquid drop fell onto the wood. That was enough. He drew his tongue in, licking around his mouth for a moment, making sure to drown the remaining catalyst in the returning saliva.
Cayas sat back, watching the twigs, a faint shimmer in the air as the drip of liquid seeped down across the leaves and living wood. He hoped, being saturated in the catalyst would let even these, wet twigs catch alight.
Gently he leaned closer and snorted a puff of air through the shimmer. A spark, and fire flickered in a brief burst, singing the branches before disappearing. He waited… and fire retook, first at one higher piece of branch, then another, taking slow hold of the offered fuel. It would do, he hoped.
Cayas turned to the wall, raising his claw again, and beginning to scratch “If nothing else, I stand by the concept I began with this morning. The crux of the issue with it, is I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t build, I’m a poor hunter and bar a passing knowledge, biology is not my strong suit”
He stopped to sigh, sparing a glance to the heaped branches… the fire hadn’t died “I was never adept with fire either. Fortunately, I have managed to make one in this den. I may be unable to add much in the way of even simple comforts, but a little light and heat will mean the world. But perhaps there I should stop. I need to find a way home” he snorted to himself “ever since I choked on my first flames, I have been so scared of the fire. I am fortunate the catalyst works outside of me. I thought it might” he took a moment to think “I never knew much about it, even now there is debate how it works. All I ever understood, was that it doesn’t work if it dilutes in saliva and can’t ignite in breath. The irony we call it fire breathing. Still, it seems to need that little, puff, the energy in the air, the sharp movement to act as final key to its action. So, I suppose, we need to breathe, to direct the fire”
Cayas licked his lips. He’d developed the habit every time he even thought of the catalyst. He’d never lick it over those scales again. “On a better note, I did find the nest of the local primates which remain unnamed. I find myself thinking of old Firiet, the biologist on the expedition. She’d love these things. She always spoke so passionately about the, strange, wonderful and ingenious solutions nature could make, just through trial and error”. Cayas sighed, thinking so wistfully of, home, and other dragons “What little I observed taught me a few things, they use tools, seemingly adapted for it, and they seem a social species, which makes sense for a primate. I wonder what it’s like, to be so ancestrally social, not so recent like my own kind” Cayas pondered for a moment, before shaking his head “I need to be careful. They could be a good prey source. I must avoid anthropomorphising them. Just because they are social like me, can use tools like me, and have been watching me, doesn’t mean they are intelligent. I remember, the general rule is, if you can see a reasonable way the behaviour could develop without intelligence, you should assume it did so. Not assume they thought it out. I must remember, I’ve seen nothing to prove they are sentient, and in all likelihood, I won’t. I do muse on the young one that has been watching me. But I do have a theory. The young ones may act as scouts for the elder. Their lack of hunting skill, and requirement to learn stealth, would lend itself to such work. Serve the troupe, while learning new skills. It would make sense it would keep watching me. It is likely predisposed to observing potential threats, or things it hasn’t seen before. I am both. And tool using creatures, are known to be curious by nature” Cayas hummed “it’s both a relief to understand them, and maybe a little disappointing. But I need to focus on the now. I hope it keeps returning. I will admit a certain, pleasing amusement in being watched by the small thing, and should my injuries worsen, or the local prey become familiar with me as a threat” he licked over his chops again “the small thing would be a convenient source of food in reserve, so I shall endeavour to not scare it off”