Katherine (katherini) wrote in dragonblade,

Clay - Part 1

The floor was a reddish clay on which she knelt. Her knees carried the tinge that comes with the profession, but it was her hands that one noticed first. Callused and dry from the work, yet they were gentle, and always in motion. They ran across the surface of a baby dragon wing. She pressed the wing again, found it too dry, dipped the fingers of her right hand in a small pot of water beside her right knee. She returned her hand to the wing, which lifted of its own accord and shaped itself against the palm of her hand. She opened her hand wide. The wing stretched like flexible elastic to fill the expanse. It tightened, appearing thin and delicate, but she knew dragon wings to be resilient. She folded the wing across the dragons tiny chest already encrusted with thin diamond plates armor of the most enduring type. She lifted her other hand and the second wing flew to it like a moth toward the light. It stretched tight as the first under her open palm, and this new appendage she wrapped overtop the chest and folded wing. She tucked the head under a wing, and bent the knees, pushing the legs into the abdomen to assume the fetal position.
* * * * * * * *
Were just above it now, said Djanka, tilting her scaly snout to look at her rider with one eye. Her voice was deep enough to be heard over the drumbeat of her wings. Ensli, do you see the red mountains?
He did. Their timeless faces sculpted the horizon of the morning sky. Each contained the red tinge, the life-force of the Ardinthaima Mountains. The Ardinthaima Mountains! During childhood, the name was a sacred whisper in the inaccessible reaches of the adult world. What he had known for sure, because all children knew as much, was that the clay from the mountain range created life when handled by the right people. Anything he believed past that was usually speculation.
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