gaia's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

The settlers came fast, and one came ready to fight. A woman stepped out ahead of the crowd, a bow already up. Before Gaia could speak, the woman loosed. The arrow flew past Gaia's shoulder and struck the pale dragon in the neck. The dragon jerked. A high, thin cry tore from its throat. Gaia felt the pain hit like her own. The dragon's fear rose fast, sharp, too big to hold. Behind her, the forty beasts stirred again. Hooves scraped. Teeth showed. The calm she had bought was cracking, and the crack ran straight through the dragon that had saved them all. She could not pull this fear into herself. It was too raw, too close to rage. If the dragon panicked, the herd would follow, and every settler here would die. She had to stop the pain at its source. She had to pull the arrow. Gaia turned her back on the settlers and knelt by the dragon's lowered head. Blood ran dark down the pale scales. The dragon thrashed, and its tail cracked a young tree in half. She pressed one hand flat to its jaw. "Hold still," she said. "I know. I know it burns." The branches on her head trembled. She reached into the ground with her free hand and called something warm. From the treeline behind her, a bird rose. Its feathers burned red and gold and green, bright as a fire made of jewels. It swept down and landed on the dragon's back, and heat poured off its wings. The warmth washed over the wound. The dragon's thrashing slowed. Gaia gripped the arrow's shaft, braced her knees, and pulled. It came free with a wet drag. The dragon howled once, then went quiet, its long neck sinking to the moss. The bright bird spread its wings over the torn scales. New skin closed under its heat. Blood stopped. The dragon breathed slow again, and its fear drained back into the earth beneath Gaia's hand. She stood and faced the settlers. The woman with the bow had lowered it. The whole crowd stared at the glowing bird and the healing wound. No one moved. Gaia's hands still shook, but her voice held. "You hurt the one who kept my beasts from killing your boy," she said. "He asks nothing from you. Neither do I. Only that you stop cutting, so we can talk." The woman lowered her eyes. Down the slope, past the fresh stumps, Gaia saw a small house of pale crystal, vines threaded through its shining walls. A settler home, but grown, not chopped. Someone here still loved living things. Gaia walked toward that house. The dragon rose and followed. The bright bird rode its back. The settlers parted and let her pass. She had not made peace yet. But for the first time, they were not reaching for weapons.