Part 2 - The Approach
Alas, if I had not terrified myself and my dear Merca enough, I had to go back. Such a discovery as this could not remain ignored, even though I must stress, that for the while, if perhaps forever the precise nest site I discovered must remain secret. I wrote my letters and sent them forth to my colleagues, to assure them that all was well and that I would not be returning home for a few months. This would allow me time to work alone, unobstructed by the distractions I could not afford, this would be our venture alone. And what we discovered I shall never forget. Our first sighting had been brief, the dragon we had seen, had no doubt been female, so we referred to it as Mooda, a name Merca had invented but fitted our scarlet friend well. Mooda had remained on the nest sight for no more than a few minutes before leaving, only returning an hour later, with us still hidden behind the wall, laden with rushes inside her long talons. She stretched her long, spiked neck with satisfaction, before shifting her load into the cavern that had been our camp and soon , ot of sight. I had no doubt that any movement from us would attract her attention, so for many, aching hours we waited, it was long after the rise of the moon over the distant hills, permeating though in long shafts through the tree canopy above, that we made our move. Merca might have told me that my next intention was premature, foolish even, but I wanted a closer look. To see for myself, up close, those scales that glimmered like rubies in the sun, that proud and heaving bulk of the creature that terrified the many. My companion dissuaded me not, so we continued through the grass, leaving our equipment behind, we were like mice through the wheat field wary of the owl. She was lying with her head upon those great claws, eyes hidden beneath the wrinkled scales, a low guttural rumble with each low exhale, this was how we saw her upon the threshold of the cave. No words could describe the thrill in my gut at her beauty. I dared not even to breathe. Merca stayed a few steps behind me. More wise than me, I thought as I neared ever closer. The most minute fiery coal trickled from deep within those great nostrils fizzling out as it fell to the stone and was gone. I retreated to the shadows with the sketchbook and pencil I had in my pocket and began to sketch.📷It was as I had completed my work that she stirred and gave a low guttural moan which reverberated across the cavern tremendously. I had not taken complete leave of my senses and retreated, quietly with Merca down the hill reaching our place of safety without much disturbance. Our new friend slept on through the night, unlumbered as we were by the night chill and damp of the wilderness. We dared not to move until late morning. We returned to the cavern five days later, I would have returned sooner, had it not been for Merca's most wise decision that we ought to scout the area for signs of other dragons in the vicinity. We found naught but tracks imbedded into the muddy bank of a swollen river, far longer and wider than the prints of the great African creatures, the elephant or the rhino of which I had studied in my youthful years. We made our approach on the western side, backs to the falling sun, our scent carried downwind. I was more nervous than before, although the same excitement thrilled me intensely, this time we knew not whether our quarry was at home, or indeed the area. Anything could have happened in the time we had wandered. In the stillness I wondered whether she might have found a mate. Could dragons mate for life, as swans did, or perhaps they were more promiscuous like the rabbit? Like swan or rabbit were these magnificent beasts of old? The cavern was empty, it grieved my heart to think that we might have missed her catch flight. But she was sure to return, I believed it deeply. So we hurried ourselves to investigate the nest. Sure enough, two eggs, speckled like the night sky but light as the dawn one slightly larger than the other lay there in the pile of rush, weed and twig, each so large I could only have held one if I had clutched it to my breast with both arms. I sketched for as for as long as I dared. My moment at joy of this discovery broken by the terror that blazed in me of the distant rumble above. I froze. The sound came again, like a fury of raging horses thundering above. Merca took my arm and pulled me toward the entrance, but in my aging years I am no longer as agile as I was and I stumbled and fell, tumbling down the hill as wing beats pummled me from above. But in the shade of a beech, where I came to rest I looked up to see those yellow eyes staring at me from the cavern. Four eyes. Another, as crimson as Mooda but slightly smaller had landed beside her, also staring at me. But I was graced by their mercy. Mooda turned away and retreated into the darkness of her cavern and her eggs. Her mate, I named then, for it seemed he had given it to me Skeptre. Proud and royal was he as he allowed me to watch, just feet away from them as Mooda bathed her young with warm fire. They were like swans.
