Around him the woods sang with jays and chickadees, droning cicadas and breezes, and scurrying shrews and mice. He slowed his breath, tasting the wet, crisp air on his tongue. Traces of coppery feathers and musky fur lingered on the crusty tree trunks his quarry had rubbed, and pooled in her elusive paw prints. Jaji admired the dragoness’s determination, but not even a cunning paddle across a stream broke the concentration of his nose.

A robin bickered with its mate in the oak above him. Dropping to his armored stomach, Jaji slunk into the sun-dappled shade to shadow his distinct red coat. He glared up the tree, claws twitching to silence the noisy birds before they spoiled his cover.

But his ears pricked away from the squawking birds, pinpointing brush rustling ahead of him. He then smelled the dragoness in the tangle of shrubs as if standing paw-to-paw with her.

He dunked his face under the carpet of ferns, masking his white muzzle and cheek sacs, resisting the urge to sneeze when pollen-dusted leaves tickled his nose. He arched his thumbs back, priming his long, sickle-shaped claws. She had eluded him all afternoon, but he was finally close enough to strike. Only the waving tip of his feathered tail betrayed Jaji’s brimming excitement.

The brush parted—

And Jaji froze.

A fox caked in mud emerged blinking into the forest sunbeam. The mud cloaked the fox’s scent, but not the smell of the clump of blue dragon feathers pasted on its head. When the fox locked eyes on Jaji lurking, it bolted with a frightened yip.

Jaji growled and ruffled his wings. He shook the tenseness from his legs, perturbed a decoy had led him so astray—

A roar bellowed behind him and a dark figure lunged. Jaji twisted and narrowly dodged the dragoness’s snapping jaws. He sucked in a deep breath, his cheek sacs swelling to amplify his voice into a tree-splintering, stunning timbre. But the dragoness pitched Jaji backward with a punch to his breastplates, deflating his cheek sacs. He sputtered, the air rushing back into his throat, barely a squeak. Before he could bare his claws or teeth, she pounced, pinning him on his back, her sickle thumb claws poised above his jugular.

Heart throbbing in his throat like a frightened toad, unable to attack or defend, Jaji could only look up at his former quarry. Plastered in the same thick mud as her fox decoy, the dagoness’s lips curled back in a victorious, vicious snarl.

Jaji snorted when her dirt mask powdered his face. “What, by Jamura’s First Feather, are you doing?”

The dragoness entwined her talons in Jaji’s feathered mane and leaned down. Her ferocious sneer softened into a smug grin. “Improvising,” she replied.

“That’s what you call rolling around in mud?” Jaji scowled.

“You’re just sour cause you didn’t think of it first.” The dragoness puffed her cheek sacs like glistening blueberries and stuck out the tip of her pink tongue.

“Get off, Ishira!” Jaji bunched his hind legs under her stomach and kicked her. Ishira rolled over and landed lithely on her feet while Jaji flailed to get up. He shook the leaves and twigs from his feathers, plucking out a stubborn stick with his wing dactyls.

“Okay, hunt’s over!” Ishira called over her shoulder.

The nearby bracken trembled. Their fur and feathers as blank as ice, the trio of dragon clearlings chirped as they trotted out of hiding, their pale eyes bright with delight. Their panting breath smelled of creamy milk, and they still had some ways to grow into their lanky legs and wings.

“That wath amazing Ithira!” Milk Tooth said, licking where his last nursing teeth had fallen out.

“Prey will often freeze under a strong roar, and if it becomes disoriented it will struggle to fight back, as Prince Jaji so nicely demonstrated.” Ishira smirked.

“I was supposed to be showing them how to stalk.” Jaji flattened his ears at her, but she knew what teasing, yet endearing tone to use to keep his feathers smooth.

“Whether hunting or hunted, it’s always important to keep an eye on your surroundings. If you are clever, you will find things to help. Like this mud.” Ishira opened her wing, dirt flaking off her long pinion feathers.

The clearlings crowded around and sniffed the mushy concoction.

Small Squeak’s nose scrunched. “That stuff smells like dead grass!”

“And dung!” Milk Tooth declared.

“I’d never put that on my feathers!” Prim Feathers preened her tail self-consciously.

“Ah, but you can’t smell me, can you?” Ishira said. “If you cover your scent, your prey can’t smell you, and other predators won’t make a meal out of an inattentive clearling.”

She batted Prim Feathers’ tail, making the clearling squeal in surprise. While Jaji and Ishira could look an elephant in the eye, Milk Tooth, the largest of their wards, was only the size of a cougar—and could still fall prey to one.

“Yeah! You gotta watch for wolveth!” Milk Tooth threw back his head and howled.

“And lions!” Small Squeak roared, but the sound was a mere squawk.

Jaji rolled his eyes. Tackling a charging water buffalo was easier than snaring a distracted clearling’s attention.

“I bet we can use Ishira’s mud trick to catch dragon maidens, too,” Small Squeak said.

Prim Feathers shuddered. “But you’d get her all dirty! I’d hate to get mud all over any girl I claimed, especially her silk dresses and jewels!”

“Don’t worry, catching maidenth ith eathy. Humanth have bad thenthe of thmell. That’th why my thire and dam have tho many.” Milk Tooth sat up, chest puffed in pride.

Ishira’s smile waned. “Maiden-claiming can be far, far more dangerous than your First Hunt. And you should never underestimate humans. The animals of the forest do not have metal armor, spears, and bows.”

“Ha! Those are just sticks! No human is a match for a dragoness of the Drack Clan!” Small Squeak bounced to her feet with another proud squawk.

Jaji stole a glance at Ishira. Her eyes closed wearily and her thumbs and sickle claws began to circle. Before the clearlings could notice Ishira’s pained expression and pry further, he swooped in; “Hey, these aren’t cub-games. Ishira and I are teaching you how to hunt. You want to eat you first prey and gain your pelt colors, right?”

“Which wath harder for you, Prince Jaji? Catching your firtht prey or catching your firtht maiden?” Milk Tooth asked.

A heavy lump lodged in Jaji’s throat before sinking into his gut.

He looked at a nearby elm, avoiding the three sets of expectant clearling eyes, as he cleared his throat and kneaded his paws in the fallen leaves. “Well, my First Hunt was very, very, very dangerous, and I still have the scar to prove it.”

“Thcar? You got a thcar?” Milk Tooth’s eyes widened.

Jaji turned around. His red fur stained black down his legs to match his onyx breastplates, a patch on his left leg had grown in a ragged spot of dull gray. “See?”

“Whoa!” Milk Tooth practically pressed his nose against Jaji’s flank to admire the mark.

“What kind of animal made that, Prince Jaji?” Small Squeak asked.

Jaji settled on his haunches. The clearlings clustered around Jaji’s feat, ears pricking and fidgety paws stilling. He smirked at Ishira, pleased the clearlings had taken the bait, but she only rolled her eyes and shook her head at him.

“Only five monsoons ago, I was a clearling like you, sitting before the Marking Stone, listening to King Skor tell me, Ishira, and our broodmates the Great Hunting Tales before our First Hunt,” Jaji began, following the familiar path of his story. “I was so excited, I stayed up the night before toughing my wings, since I planned to go all the way to the Shadowtone Peaks.”

“Oooooh, that’s the hunting grounds King Skor and Prince Skra used on their First Hunts too, right?” Small Squeak asked.

“My cubmate Patri went there. He came back tortoise-pelted,” Prim Feathers said.

“I’ll go to there too like Prince Jaji! My dam and thire will be tho proud of me!” Milk Tooth purred.

Jaji curled his tail around himself. He had spent whole monsoon days in his family’s den fantasizing about the taste of his prey and what pelt he would claim, just like Milk Tooth.

“Yes, I was determined to prove myself like my cubmates before me, and my sire and dam before them, and the Drack ancestors all the way back to King Jamura. So, once I left my claw marks on the very top of the Marking Stone, I flew four days straight to reach the misty forests of the Shadowtone Peaks. Then it took me three days more to pick up a whisker’s scent of….”

The clearlings held their breath when Jaji paused.

“A wah.”

The little dragons gasped, fluffing their feathers. Ishira licked some of the mud off her shoulder, immune to Jaji’s bravado.

“My sire’s never brought a wah back from hunting,” Small Squeak murmured.

“How big wath it?” Milk Tooth asked.

“What did it look like?” Prim Feathers asked.

Jaji fluffed his plumed mane, each umber feather bright crimson at the vanes, and turned his head side to side so the clearlings could admire the white frosting his muzzle and dotting his brows. He lashed his tail, showing off his dark bands like rings of bamboo, and flared open his still-growing wingspan, dwarfing an eagle to a pigeon, to flaunt how his pinions were stripped on top and dusky black underneath.

“Oh, it was a fearsome beast indeed. Claws like razors, teeth like sabers, a hide of fire and shadow! There’s no creature in the Drack forests as fierce as the wah of the Shadowtone Peaks. His paws alone were as big as my head!”

“That’s impressive, considering how inflated your cheek sacs get telling this Hunting Tale,” Ishira remarked. Prim Feathers and Small Squeak laughed.

“Huth, Ithira! I want to hear!” Milk Tooth huffed.

Jaji continued. “I stalked him for hours, mimicking his every footstep. Even though he was so much bigger than me, if I waited for a moment of distraction, I could get one good slash at his throat and take him down.

“The wah finally stopped at a stream to drink. I crept forward.” Jaji hunched his shoulders down, reliving the prowl. “As soon as the wah lowered his head, I charged out of the brush—

“But before I could sink my claws into him, he turned his fangs on me!”

“You see, I had been a little too…” Jaji paused, ears swiveling in thought.

“Impatient? Brash? Obvious?” Ishira offered.

“Eager. Let’s go with eager.” Jaji shrugged his wing dactyls and shoulders. “I thought the wah couldn’t see me, but he could smell me, like Ishira was telling you about the mud. Fortunately, I moved fast enough and he only got my hind leg. I slashed the bruiser across the snout. When he flinched and let me go, and I took my chance and—”

He hopped forward with a bridled roar, snapping his jaws as if tearing out a throat. The clearlings scattered around in the ferns, then flocked back together with giddy chirps.

“You were really able to take down the wah all by yourthelf?” Milk Tooth gasped.

Jaji grinned. “Of course! Nothing less would be expected of a prince of the Drack Clan.”

Prim Feathers tilted her head in thought. “Did the wah give you any gifts, Prince Jaji? Like how my dam’s feathers glow in the dark like the firebird’s?”

“Yeah! And King Skor has the cobra’s venom,” Small Squeak said.

“And Leta hath a rhino horn!” Milk Tooth added.

“Well…” Jaji’s sickle claws flicked back and forth like he was toying with a piece of prey—and what exactly to say. “Though a powerful creature, I did not get a gift from the wah. Not every dragon is gifted from their first prey. Usually it is rare.”

“Yeah, unless you eat a wizard-tainted prey. But it’s bad luck to claim a wizard-tainted creature as your first prey,” Small Squeak said matter-of-factly.

“I’d never heard that,” Prim Feathers said.

“That’s cause your dam is wizard-tainted with those light-up feathers. My sire says that’s why she never catches anything on night hunts,” Small Squeak scoffed. Prim Feathers frowned and shrunk down on herself.

“Your dam does catch more than enough during the day, though, and her feathers do look stunning in the Home Dens,” Ishira jumped in with an encouraging smile.

“So the wizard magic would taint uth too if we ate bad prey like that?” Milk Tooth asked. “I’m not thure I’d want magic. What if I ate an armadillo and became heavy like a rock? Then I wouldn’t be able to hunt, or fly, or catch any dragon maidenth, either!”

Jaji sighed, gritting back the seed of a headache.

“H-how will we know if an animal is wizard-tainted?” Prim Feathers asked, wings folding tight and tail tucking.

“Oh, you’ll be able to tell,” Jaji said. “Unlike the other animals, their powers are more unnatural, like the firebird’s feathers your dam took, or the crows that turn into wind, the fish that fly out of the water, or even how the wah—”

Jaji nipped his own tongue he almost blurted out the truth.

Ishira frowned, brow perked questioningly. Jaji caught her look and turned back to the clearlings before they could notice, “Regardless of what you take for your first prey, gifts or taint or no, wait till you see your pelt colors for the first time in Drack Lake! The blood, meat, and bone taste much more delicious than your dams’ milk. And when you have proven yourself with your pelt colors, you’ll shed your cub name.”

“Speaking of the lake, I think we should get going. Prince Skra and Princess Lunari will be done soon, too,” Ishira said.

Milk Tooth whirled in a circle back on Jaji. “But, Prince Jaji hathn’t told uth about catching hith firtht maiden—”

“We still have to fly back to the Home Dens, so keep your paws on the ground, okay? Don’t make Ishira and me scruff you all the way back cause you tired yourselves out playing cub-games.” Jaji stood up and stepped over the clearlings’ heads.

Milk Tooth and Small Squeak bounded past him through the puddles of sunlight, but Prim Feathers held back. “Ishira, how did your First Hunt go?”

“Well, it wasn’t nearly as harrowing as Prince Jaji’s. I just thought for a while what kind of pelt I wanted, and after a little searching I found the butterfly. All it took was one bite.” Ishira snipped her teeth and grinned. “Don’t let anyone, not even your broodmates or clanmates, choose your pelt for you. Remember that.”

The clearling nodded and pranced ahead with her broodmates. Jaji and Ishira followed at a leisurely pace, keeping their eyes and ears alert; though this forest was the heart of their clan’s territory, other beasts still roamed the woods and glades, and a newly-weaned clearling was a tempting target.

“So…That was impressive with the mud,” Jaji relented, giving Ishira a sidelong glance.

Ishira chuckled. “I knew a chance for you to strut would perk your feathers back up.”

“I still don’t understand why you caught a butterfly as your first prey.” Jaji considered Ishira the best hunter of their brood, though the rest of the clan often overlooked her, since a dragon’s pelt was supposed to reflect their hunting prowess.

“Now you sound like the graying bull drakes counting their whiskers. The butterfly was beautiful, and I wanted my pelt to be so, just like how you decided to take the wah for yourself.” Ishira slipped in and out of the forest shade beside him. “Hide of fire and shadow’? That part was new. Will the wah be as big as the Marking Stone next time the clearlings ask? Or will you tell them what actually happened on your First Hunt? It would have helped Prim Feathers to hear your prey was ‘wizard-tainted’ like her dam’s—”

“Shhh!” Jaji glanced ahead, checking if the clearlings had overheard; the easiest way for a secret to be lost was from the mouth of a clearling. But Small Squeak and Prim Feathers were occupied pouncing on Milk Tooth, imitating Ishira’s technique.

Ever since his dam had taken Ishira under her wing, Jaji was closest to her out of all the clan, even his own cubmates and their other broodmates. He had told only Ishira the truth of how he got his scar, and the strange powers of the creature he hunted as his first prey which gave him his distinguished coat. He dreaded thinking how the clan—his sire most of all—would react if they learned what Jaji went through in the Shadowtone Peaks, and what choice he had made.

Ishira’s ears folded at his nervous reaction. “I think it’s a better story than that cub-tale you tell everyone.”

Jaji sighed and swatted aside a nettle bush. “Yeah, but, everyone expected me to return with an admirable pelt after Skra caught a tiger and Fala caught a fawn. Do you know how hard it is to find a fawn when its hiding? It’s like trying to find dirt that breathes.” Ishira giggled, but she frowned when Jaji muttered, “I wish I had known your tricks when it was our First Hunt…And I would probably have a dragon maiden or two by now…”

Ishira reached out with her wing and left a reassuring smudge on his shoulder with her muddy dactyls. “Listening to the instincts of your heart was your best hunting trick that day. If you worry too much otherwise, that red mane you worked hard for will fall out, Jaji.”

They easily stepped over a fallen tree the clearlings had to scrabble over. When Milk Tooth struggled to vault the log, Jaji boosted him with a nudge from his snout.

“Besides, even if you had caught a fly as your first prey, it would be impossible to mistake you for any cub other than Skor’s,” Ishira said.

Jaji’s spotted eyebrows perked and his swishing tail stilled. “Why’s that?”

“You sound just like him when you tell Hunting Tales,” Ishira replied.

Jaji walked with his tail held higher, carrying Ishira’s sincerity on his shoulders, all the way to Drack Lake. Even in the driest, hottest part of the year, the secluded watering hole remained clear and deep, ringed by the thickest forests and mountains.

“Last one in eats duck bones!” Ishira sprang into the water, leaving a massive, cloudy splash in her wake.

The clearlings followed, chirping and mewing as they treaded in the reedy shallows. Jaji dove into the depths, the waters refreshing after a long hunt.

Ishira bobbed out in the deep water, preening the last of the mud from her wings and thick, ebony fur. Her feathers on the underwing were mottled brown with black spots like leaf litter, complementing her copper breast plates. The back sides of her wings, however, were such a vibrant blue it looked as if she had earned a pelt from the sky itself. The shimmering hue colored her pinions, crest feathers, and tail feathers, all tinged in rims of black. Though she had first preyed on a lowly butterfly, Jaji had always considered her pelt radiant.

Jaji paddled up to her and slurped up a mouthful of water, his filled cheek sacs sloshing. Before Ishira could speak, he squirted her in the face.

“Hey!” Ishira swallowed a swig and spouted back.

“Thanks again for helping with the hunting lesson,” Jaji said between sprays.

“My pleasure to lend a paw.” When Ishira smiled, the blue accents around her eyes crinkled as well.

Jaji swam closer. “You’ve still got some mud on your face.” He leaned over and licked away the traces of dirt from her velveteen snout, brow, and ears.

Ishira giggled from his rough tongue. When she craned her neck back to expose her chin to his grooming, her eyes locked upward. She gasped, crest flaring. “Jaji! Look!”

A silhouette of wings hung in the cloudless sky over their heads. The clearlings stopped playing when Ishira shouted, eyes staring wide. Jaji stiffened, uncertain if the older dragon was lazily circling or keenly surveying. When the drake spied Jaji and Ishira floating in the lake, his wings cupped, falling into a tight dive like a swooping hawk—

Talons aimed for Jaji’s throat.

___________________________________

Jaji did not see the familiar furred pawpads and killer talons of his dragon foot, but a disturbing, alien sight:

The naked, slender fingers of a human hand.

As a longtime fan of speculative fiction and a dragon enthusiast, I am writing different kind of dragon story than the “slay the evil beast” or “glorified horse with wings” tropes. Dragons with feathers, fur, and complex culture and personalities populate my upper middle grade fantasy manuscript, The Dragon Prince (86K words).

Jaji is the youngest prince of the Drack Clan of dragons, and though he had earned a prestigious pelt on his first hunt, only he and his best friend, Ishira, know his “harrowing” trial was merely a cub’s tale. He also has yet to pass another dragon rite of passage—to catch his first human maiden to keep as a servant of his own. His sire, King Skor, pressures him to uphold this clan tradition by threatening to send Ishira away from the clan. Knowing he cannot risk lying to his sire again, Jaji sets out to find a girl to appease his sire and protect Ishira.

One night, fortune plays into Jaji’s favor and he stumbles upon the princess Marigold camping in his forest territory. But not all is as it seems, and Jaji finds himself in a scenario he never could have imagined; transformed into human shape and restrained by an enchanted shock collar, Jaji is the one enslaved instead by the very girl he had intended to catch. Marigold and her wizard accomplice carry Jaji back to the human city of Samantis, where the princess intends to work Jaji to the bone as part of her own revenge plan, “a cub for a child.” Jaji not only struggles to adapt to being an entirely different species, but must dodge suspicious knights, bold dragon hunters, and Marigold’s secrets in the human palace. But most startling to him, Jaji learns humans are not all the barbaric creatures his clan claims they are—and not all dragons are as noble as he had grown up believing. Immersing in human society, Jaji becomes the pivotal piece in the conflict between monstrous humans and corrupt dragons, the two royal families, and princesses and promises.

I was born on a beach where dolphins played, grew up in an enchanted forest filled with deer, and studied Studio Art and Creative Writing at Hollins University, home to many squirrels. My artwork and stories have been featured in literary magazines such as Strangelet and The Cyborg Griffin, and have earned awards in shows and exhibitions, national contests, and organizations such as SCBWI. I am also a member of the Hollins chapters of Sigma Tau Delta and Phi Beta Kappa. When not hip-deep in writing, reading, or printmaking, I dote on my cuddly rottweilers, wiggly corgi, and squishy axolotl.

Updates on my writing and art can be viewed at my blog, paintingdragonfeathers.tumblr.com, and my Instagram, Paintingdragonfeathers.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Best regards,

JD Donnelly