Orinoco

Orinoco loved the Sea. The currents would glide over her wings, jostling her but never pushing. There was always some small creature darting through the water, just below her nose. It would tickle her feet and hide and she would giggle.

She had a few siblings, tinier than she, that she would wrap in her large wings and tickle. Their laughter would fill the air, light and beautiful. Her mother would come over, shaking her head and smiling. "Let them go," she would say, though there was a smile pulling at her lips. Orinoco would laugh as the child would protest, declaring that she was just playing.

Things changed when her father fell ill.

He had left to speak with a merchant one day and when he went to bed that night, he never re-opened his eyes.

Orinoco's mother awoke to a mate that would not wake and became hysterical. Orinoco went to the clan healer, hoping to cure her father of the ailment. When the healer arrived, he declared her father dead. Distraught, Orinoco begged the healer to tell her why. The healer could not say.

As time wore on, more and more dragons fell ill, taken in their sleep by something strange. Orinoco went to the healer, desperate, and begged to be taught the ways that he knew. So the lessons began.

She would be told to venture out and take herbs from the far reaches of the Sea of a Thousand Currents or bargain with merchants from far off realms. Some of them smiled at her with their teeth bared, as if her blight gave them enjoyment. She never liked the merchants.

Orinoco churned the potions, learned the magic, and did her best to cure the sick and wounded. She was taught how to bind a wound, stitch a gash, cure a cough, and embalm a body to prevent the disease from spreading.

That was the worst part.

The bodies were limp and sometimes the eyes were open, as if the dragon could still see. The first few times she had to do it, she found herself incapable of doing so, always crying before she could wrap up the limbs. The healer would come in, chide her for mourning so soon, and finish the job.

Orinoco learned. She learned of the spells, of the herbs, of the potions that were to cure this and cure that, how to cure this set of symptoms, that disease, how to watch for this problem, how to prevent that one.

As time wore on, she became aware that the sickness seemed to be abating. Her hopes soared. Perhaps it was over.

She was wrong.

As she sat one day, with the healer, churning potions and learning how to cure an affliction involving boils, a scream was heard. Running out, she discovered a gang of dragons encroaching, slaughtering her clan. Distraught, Orinoco turned to her old mentor for aid.

He told her to flee.

Orinoco refused; this was her home, too, her family that was going to die. He told her she must go, must leave the clan. Begin anew somewhere else.

She did not listen. She watched instead.

Watched as they cut down her mother, her matriarch, butcher her siblings, destroy her life until only she and her mentor remained.

The dragons took them, enthused that they had found two healers. They forced the pair to bind their wounds, to fix their injuries, injuries sustained after they had destroyed her home.

Orinoco was furious.

She trained in private, learning how to fight by watching the band of dragons. She learned how to crush others, how to rip them apart. She practiced in silent, when the dragons had gone to sleep. Her old mentor watched, always making sure no one could see her.

One day they did. They killed her mentor and attempted to kill her.

They failed.

Overflowing with rage and grief, Orinoco tore apart the band and left, claws stained with blood and tears rolling down her face. Her mentor, the last of her clan, the last of her home, had protected her to his last breath.

She would find a new clan, a new home, to do the same.

Orinoco walked for weeks, searching out a clan that she could defend. Everywhere she went, she was turned away. They told her they did not need another healer. She never mentioned her fury in battle to them.

She finally came across the Wasteland, a desolate place. Orinoco had never liked the Wasteland before, but she felt that it might hold a new beginning for her. Her old self was gone. She would have to begin anew.

Orinoco walked the landscape, doing her best to find a place to stay, a place to live. She only saw angry dragons, dragons that carried the same pain she did as she traveled.

Finally, one day, she came across a clan where the leader was not as furious or as angry. The leader looked up at her form.

"What can you provide us?" he asked.

"I am a protector," Orinoco responded, staring down at the same figure. "I can save you from others, whether it be sickness or another dragon." The fae nodded curtly.

"Then you will be our healer and protector," he said, and that was that.

Orinoco slowly found herself again, slowly found that she still liked to do the things she used to do such as tickling the young ones or curling up next to an older dragon to offer warmth and comfort. But she was also changed. She had harder eyes, stronger claws, sharper teeth. No one would ever again fall to harm in this clan. Orinoco would be its protector, its healer, until her last breath.

-Bio by FloatinginSpace