Wanderer

Whisper to the lost dragon
Call her name as she waits for centuries
To Share her quiet secrets
And long forgotten memories.

Though she may not speak
Her voice is always there
And only does she use it to laugh
As her victims’ screams fill the air.

By Roxy265

She waits. It seems that she is always waiting. Her body exists as if frozen in time, never changing, never waning. The hatchlings call her ghost, spirit, watcher, but the dark shadow she casts escape their young minds. The elder Dragons, the ones who know, the ones who have seen, call her wanderer, and only in harsh whispers, when they are sure they can’t be heard, they call her demon.
And yet she remains, a wisp of a Dragon, at the edge of the clan. Not truly in the world of the living, and not entirely beyond it. And so she waits, watching, hunting for the lost souls that enter her domain. If they are lucky, and they rarely are, the lost Dragons will remain with the clan. Those others who are more unfortunate cry out in the night, sending shivers down the spines of all who catch their voice in the wind. She seems to indicate that she merely sent the Dragons to worship the Plaguebringer, and that her glowing guidance led them to Mother's kingdom. But her cold breath and stinging claws make them question whether she means in body, or in spirit.

Writen by Disbounded


by Poinsionedpaper