The island was uninhabited, had been for decades before she'd won it from the dragon who'd taken control of it. While smaller life had adjusted to living under the shadow of the green, larger animals had fallen prey to the creature's appetites in large numbers. To date, there were no large predators on the island, no pigs either. Roadkill's flora had not only survived under the green's regime, it'd flourished.
Green dragons most often preferred deep forests with plenty of lush vegetation for camouflage and protection. They weren't usually the largest or most fierce combatants of the chromatic dragons, but they were the most devious. The most willing to tamp down their own egos for long range goals and end-game prizes.
In a world filled with the magical as well as the mundane, Roadkill didn't stand out all that much. At least not to the majority, though very few knew about its existence. The island was uncharted and vastly unimproved. The only permanent structure was a huge pavilion tent set in the bowl of an inland valley, protected from the majority of the ferocious storms that were known to sweep through during certain seasons. A dragon-hide tent, the main structure being a deep emerald shade of green, remnants of the dragon who'd controlled the island and the waters around it for so long.
The reefs teemed with life as varied as that which walked the earth or flew the skies. Torn hulled ships littered both the protected waters inside the huge circular barrier, and the wilder waters as well. Their treasures, relatively unplundered. The dragon hadn't been after adding to his hoard so much as protecting his territory when he'd dive down to smash the puny interlopers. And grab a quick snack.
All in all, Roadkill was a private place. One that only a select few knew about, and fewer still had Keys to grant them access. Most of those few had likely forgotten they had such access.
Basking, she lay belly down just above the high tide mark the ocean invariably left on the sand. With her head turned to the side, pillowed by folded arms, she let mind drift in time with the sound of the lapping waves.
Between the sun and the white sand she felt blessedly baked, the breeze off the water adding a shiver of cool air across her skin. Lazy, half there smile played at the corners of her mouth even as she nuzzled her cheek into her arms. Sea birds overhead and in the trees further back called, their songs melding with the golden quality of the day. A shock of reality to keep a person prone to dreaming centered and in the here-and-now.
Resting like a kitten after a hard day's pouncing, taking pleasure in the simple act of doing nothing.
She'd spent stolen hours of night prowling the island she'd won years before. Scrabbling over rock, climbing up trees and fording rivers and creeks. Cutting herbs and flowers, gathering spices and shells. Cliff jumping just to feel the rush of wind and gravity taking hold, diving deep as she could to scoop a shiny something from the bottom of a lagoon. Romping with her pack of dogs under the watchful, but dimming eye of the eldest of them. The big brindle male tired easily now, his muscles and joints stiff from the long winter's cold and damp. But his golden eyes were lit within from amusement and the undying love and loyalty his kind were known for.
Now, stretched in the sand bare as the day she'd been born, Thorn let memories wash over her.
Fishing from the shore with a trio of well-loved kittens watching from their play pen just at the water line. Complaining loudly when their toes got damp, or when she moved into water deeper than her ankles. A party on the beach to celebrate the acquisition of the island in the first place. Roan, sitting on the sand. Watching the hatching of turtles and their flipper-footed march to the sea with Des and Tina.
Hunting the forests for treasures and goodies with the sons of her heart. The three of them dancing their forms in the water, on the sand, balanced on rocks and tree stumps. Bonfires on the beach sending shatter-sparks across the water in gusts of the night wind, s'mores by fire- and moonlight.
She'd shared this place with so few. Fewer even than she'd allowed into her home in the last seven years. And yet all of them people she treasured beyond explanation or boundary.
And now it was time to gather in the pack. Time to take up the reins again, time to start her day.
Green dragons most often preferred deep forests with plenty of lush vegetation for camouflage and protection. They weren't usually the largest or most fierce combatants of the chromatic dragons, but they were the most devious. The most willing to tamp down their own egos for long range goals and end-game prizes.
In a world filled with the magical as well as the mundane, Roadkill didn't stand out all that much. At least not to the majority, though very few knew about its existence. The island was uncharted and vastly unimproved. The only permanent structure was a huge pavilion tent set in the bowl of an inland valley, protected from the majority of the ferocious storms that were known to sweep through during certain seasons. A dragon-hide tent, the main structure being a deep emerald shade of green, remnants of the dragon who'd controlled the island and the waters around it for so long.
The reefs teemed with life as varied as that which walked the earth or flew the skies. Torn hulled ships littered both the protected waters inside the huge circular barrier, and the wilder waters as well. Their treasures, relatively unplundered. The dragon hadn't been after adding to his hoard so much as protecting his territory when he'd dive down to smash the puny interlopers. And grab a quick snack.
All in all, Roadkill was a private place. One that only a select few knew about, and fewer still had Keys to grant them access. Most of those few had likely forgotten they had such access.
Basking, she lay belly down just above the high tide mark the ocean invariably left on the sand. With her head turned to the side, pillowed by folded arms, she let mind drift in time with the sound of the lapping waves.
Between the sun and the white sand she felt blessedly baked, the breeze off the water adding a shiver of cool air across her skin. Lazy, half there smile played at the corners of her mouth even as she nuzzled her cheek into her arms. Sea birds overhead and in the trees further back called, their songs melding with the golden quality of the day. A shock of reality to keep a person prone to dreaming centered and in the here-and-now.
Resting like a kitten after a hard day's pouncing, taking pleasure in the simple act of doing nothing.
She'd spent stolen hours of night prowling the island she'd won years before. Scrabbling over rock, climbing up trees and fording rivers and creeks. Cutting herbs and flowers, gathering spices and shells. Cliff jumping just to feel the rush of wind and gravity taking hold, diving deep as she could to scoop a shiny something from the bottom of a lagoon. Romping with her pack of dogs under the watchful, but dimming eye of the eldest of them. The big brindle male tired easily now, his muscles and joints stiff from the long winter's cold and damp. But his golden eyes were lit within from amusement and the undying love and loyalty his kind were known for.
Now, stretched in the sand bare as the day she'd been born, Thorn let memories wash over her.
Fishing from the shore with a trio of well-loved kittens watching from their play pen just at the water line. Complaining loudly when their toes got damp, or when she moved into water deeper than her ankles. A party on the beach to celebrate the acquisition of the island in the first place. Roan, sitting on the sand. Watching the hatching of turtles and their flipper-footed march to the sea with Des and Tina.
Hunting the forests for treasures and goodies with the sons of her heart. The three of them dancing their forms in the water, on the sand, balanced on rocks and tree stumps. Bonfires on the beach sending shatter-sparks across the water in gusts of the night wind, s'mores by fire- and moonlight.
She'd shared this place with so few. Fewer even than she'd allowed into her home in the last seven years. And yet all of them people she treasured beyond explanation or boundary.
And now it was time to gather in the pack. Time to take up the reins again, time to start her day.