Anathema and Tidbit

Chapter 1

A wise dragon eschews the affairs and concerns of mere mortals. But, sometimes, an entanglement happens anyway. - Wisdom of Dragons

The day had not gone the way Anathema had planned. A simple nap for a month or so. Was that asking too much? After happening across a cluster of huge squid—a delicacy that was her personal favorite—and gorging on them, she'd been too full to consider flying all the way back to her volcano for a good sleep. Plus, the sun was rising, and daylight was painful for her.

Fortunately, she saw a seaside cliff pocked with caves. She chose one with a large enough mouth to slide her sinuous body through but also one where the entrance would be periodically flooded by the tide, thus reducing the chance of someone disturbing her as she slept in a large alcove carved higher up in the cliff.

Or so it should have been.

She'd hardly slept for more than a few hours before a clattering at the lower level woke her. Was it low tide again already? Smoke drifted from her dilated nostrils as she tried to ignore the noise. First, it was the iron-shod boots, then the slam of something heavy and solid on the stone floor of the cave, with the subtle rattle of chains.

The latter, though the quietest part of the disturbance, made it impossible for Anathema to slip back into slumber. It sounded like someone had left a heavy chest. And a heavy chest could mean—most often did mean—treasure, at least when left in an isolated spot.

The cave was not easily accessed by foot, one reason she'd chosen it. Stupid to pick a spot that would be underwater in a matter of hours, but humans had not impressed her with their intelligence.

Well, she could always fetch it once it had flooded and bring it with her to finish her nap. They'd likely blame the tide, and no one would be the wiser.

Probably shouldn't continue her nap here, more's the pity, for whoever left the chest might want to explore in case it was elsewhere in the cave. Still, they wouldn't be back until the next low tide so she could rest another couple hours and fly at night. And a few hours respite was better than nothing, especially if she left with a nice little addition to her hoard.

The water lapped at the chains, and she heard their soft clanks. More, though, she heard some sort of soft sounds, like perhaps the cries of baby birds or some other small animal. Were there bats in the cave that she hadn't noticed? Shouldn't they be flying off soon? It had to be approaching sunset.

She tried to ignore it. Might as well doze, right?

But the animal sounds became more persistent and haunted her as she tried to slumber. She blew out some smoke, hoping to convince any bats to move on, but the sounds continued, increasing in both pitch and frequency.

She circled, looking for a new position, but sleep eluded her.

With a puff of frustrated smoke, she slid down the passage to the entrance, now as deep as her talon.

As she'd thought, it was a chest. A satisfied rumble filled her chest. She stepped closer, planning to break the chains and look at whatever treasure awaited her. Only then did she realize that the sounds that had disturbed her were coming from the chest.

Not treasure then, she thought. Some human just left some animal to drown instead of killing it quickly. A horrific fate, especially with the slow coming in of the tide.

Not that it was her problem.

And yet…

She felt compelled, pinching the links between her talons. They shattered easily. Could have opened the locks with a thought as well, but a sense of urgency pushed her.

The cries, while desperate, also sounded so weary. For some reason—and it made no sense as dragons were carnivores—she found herself desperate as well, disposing of the remaining chains easily, then lifting the lid.

Inside the heavy chest were a number of rocks and, tucked on them and around them, were the floating corpses of a number of small creatures. Swimming intently among the carnage, a tiny creature with a pointed face paddled in the rising water, barely holding its own.

Anathema dipped in a claw several times larger than the tiny beast and the creature clung to it without hesitation, letting the dragon lift it from the water.

Chest heaving, fur matted with wet, the creature was unbelievably tiny. Fur slicked down, it was clearly malnourished and undersized. It shivered, though the day and water were warm. It could not weigh much more than a spec of dust. So small, she wouldn't have been tempted to eat it even if she hadn't been full to bursting with squid.

The animal, blue eyes huge in its tiny black face with heavy white whiskers, said, Mew. Thank you. And began to purr. Dragons have the gift of tongues so, of course, she knew what it was saying.

The creature—she supposed it was a juvenile cat—had no chance of survival. It was clearly a baby, and the chamber was filling with water with no convenient spot to set it so it wouldn't drown. But, even if there was a spot, the kitten would starve shortly, an even more horrific fate than drowning.

The chest was full now and the bodies of the kitten's companions began to float out of the chest and out to sea with the vagaries of the tide. The water was higher now, leaving only a man's height between the surface of the water and the ceiling. The kindest thing she could do was kill this poor kitten with a flick of her talon and save it an unhappy end.

I'm so tired, the kitten said. And hungry. Do you have any food?

Anathema remembered the carcass of the last squid, still strewn on a rock as she hadn't been able to finish it.

Dragons do not make milk, she told the kitten sternly.

The kitten sneezed. I'm not a baby, he said. I want meat, of course.

There was only a small strip of air now above the incoming tide. To leave the cave, Anathema would have to swim underwater and either tuck the kitten against her or hold it up in the air, which likely would smash its tiny body against the rocks. And the sun had not yet slipped from sight.

Anathema shook her head fiercely. This was stupid and pointless. The kitten was doomed and taking him, even out of the cave, was almost impossible. Unless…

If you want to leave this cave, you'll have to sit in my mouth as I swim out.

Anathema expected reluctance, even terror, from the tiny creature at the idea. Alright, the kitten said and did a little gesture with its infinitesimal paw. When Anathema lowered her huge head and opened her massive jaw slightly, just enough to let the tiny morsel of kitten enter, the kitten walked in without hesitation and curled up next to one of the dragon's huge, sinfully sharp teeth.

Anathema closed her mouth and tried not to ask herself what in all that was reasonable was she doing. The kitten couldn't survive. She knew that. But she couldn't bring herself to kill it either or leave it to drown. What was the harm, she heard herself ask, in giving it food that was readily available and taking it out of the cave to fend for itself?

She was through the water and then in the air moments later and made no effort to moderate her flight for the kitten's comfort. Either it would survive or not.

She felt no sign that the kitten was even disturbed, though she felt tiny feet with tiny claws moving about her gums. Then the kitten settled down again and began to purr. She also felt a tugging from between two of her back teeth. What was that baby doing?

The half-eaten carcass of the squid was only a few moments' flight away and, landing beside it, she scattered a large flock of sea birds away from their feast. They could take their turn. Lowering her head until it nearly touched the jagged rocks, she opened her mouth and gave the kitten a little push with her tongue.

The kitten stepped down lightly, tail held high, and went directly for the squid flesh conveniently torn up by bird beaks. Without hesitation, he started to feast, intent on his tiny meal.

The sun hurt her pale skin, burning right through the translucent scales. But the sun was just a sliver of red on the horizon, so she endured, her eyes slitted against the last light of the day.

The kitten could not have been more harmless and yet, somehow, Anathema found herself fascinated by his miniature ferocity, stripping off tiny shreds of meat and then eating them with clear pleasure.

When he was sated, his tummy bulging, he'd eaten such a tiny bit. He was tired, he'd told her, but he sat and began to clean his little paws and then his face.

She could leave him here. She'd given him food and taken him from immediate harm.

She glanced at the nearby rocks where more seabirds waiting for her to leave so they could resume eating, perhaps including this morsel of kitten as part of their repast. The kitten was no safer here than in that flooding cavern.

What else could she do?

The kitten finished cleaning itself and then said, eyelids drooping, I'm so tired. May I sleep?

You can until the birds eat you, Anathema thought but kept that thought to herself. Say she took it home with her? She could fly there now that it was dark. Wouldn't it just starve with her? She didn't have time to care for a kitten and to what purpose? The kitten, even if she had food and water and care, would likely be dead before she roused from her nap.

She could bring just a small portion of the squid and the cat would have food for days, but it would quickly become unhealthy in the warmth of her lair.

Of course, just outside the entrance to her cave, there was snow, so high on the mountain as it was. If she buried the squid in the snow, the kitten could pull bits of it from the frozen carcass and eat it as it melted. And get water from the snow.

The question was out before she had consciously made a decision. Do you want to go home with me?

Of course, the kitten said. I cleaned the fish from your teeth when I rode in your mouth before. Do you want me to climb in there again?

So trusting. Are you not afraid?

Not I, he said and stepped onto the tongue she'd extended to help in him.

You're a brave little tidbit. She closed her mouth again then ripped off one of the less mutilated sections of squid and left the rest for the raucous birds. Do you know why the humans tried to kill you?

I heard reasons but they made no sense. I think humans are always looking for reasons to do harm.

That made no sense for any creature that approached rationality, but it was hard to argue that it wasn't the truth, nonetheless. She was airborne at that moment and found herself winging home with a tiny responsibility she'd never wanted and still had no idea why she'd taken on.

Which was a strong argument against her own rationality.

* * *

Flying with a tiny creature she didn't intend to eat in her mouth for the entire trip back to her lair, some three hours hard flying away, turned out to be problematic. For one thing, the urge to swallow every time the little tidbit adjusted his position was pronounced. Nor could she swallow the spit that gathered without inadvertently swallowing the kitten as well, or so she feared.

She clenched her teeth and let some of her saliva dribble out the side of her mouth, but it was still a fight against her instincts, especially as she was still a bit sleepy.

It was only as she was circling about her volcano home, squid carcass still gripped in one talon, that she discovered another hazard. If she'd slept as she'd intended to, she could have comfortably digested her large dinner, but the exercise sped the process up a bit. Just as she landed, dropping the squid in the snow at her doorstep, a burp worked its way up and escaped before she knew it was happening.

Tidbit tumbled out of her mouth, hair puffed up and smoldering.

I'm warm now, he assured her as he picked himself up from the snowbank, steaming and smoking a bit.

Sorry, she said. Probably need another method if I take you anywhere again. She shoved the squid segment into the snow by her door.

The kitten sat and began bathing himself, smoothing his ruffled fur and generally putting himself to rights. No harm done. Would you like to nap now? I'm tired.

Her bed of loose golden coins called her. I would, she said. She wondered that she didn't feel concerned about bringing the little kitten to her hoard. Whenever you want food, you need only come here and eat from this corpse. You'll likely want to scratch some flesh free and then bring it in to thaw. You can also lick the snow for water if you need. Or there's a pool of water inside.

Tidbit yawned. Good to know, but later.

Anathema slid past him and slithered into the cave maze that formed her lair. Hopefully, he would follow but, if he didn't, she felt like that was on him. She'd done all she could, and her exhaustion was profound. Her scaly belly scraped the ground as she neared her bed. Her talons scattered loose gems and coins with delightful tinkles that sent a thrill that never aged through her. The pile of her wealth, while high, was flattened at the top to accommodate her form. She circled and then rested, her head cushioned on her spiked tail, at peace at last. So much better than sleeping somewhere where humans might disturb her.

She closed her eyes and then sighed out a large puff of fragrant purple smoke.

Home.

A moment later, her eyes opened again, as tiny feet scrambled over her tail and then scaled her snout—taking more than one try—before finding a spot at the center of her nose. There was a series of painful pulls as if the kitten was clutching at the sensitive skin—some of the only sensitive skin on her whole body—with tiny claws over and over. Eventually, the kitten seemed content and circled himself before snuggling down to sleep.

She considered complaining, but really, was it worth it?

Then Tidbit began to purr. And she realized that was worth it. Lulled back into slumber, she slept, comforted by the tiny buzz of her new companion.

Chapter 2

It is easy, as the years stretch behind and before, to lose sight of the joy of living. For that reason alone, it is probably best not to flame all mortals to ash if only because they can remind you of it. - Wisdom of Dragons

When Tidbit woke, he was starving and needed to pee.

He considered peeing among the strange, convenient, smooth, loose gravel around his new friend, but wasn't sure she'd appreciate it. He followed the way he'd come in and found a chamber full of loose rocks and dirt and did his business there. The loose stuff there was probably excavated debris from when the caves were built, but it would do for now. It was nice and dry, perhaps because of a vent in the corner that let warm gases in from below.

He continued outside where he found the squid the dragon had dropped earlier, now covered with another layer of snow. Tidbit pounced on a shred of tentacle and slashed at it with his tiny claws until he'd wrested the right size chunk from the mass. Dragging it onto the cave, he used front and back claws to tear it into edible bits and then ate them with glee.

Sated, he could have gone back to sleep again. He stretched his spine and front legs. But what would be the fun of that when he had a whole new home to explore?

Tail lifted in joy, he galloped in and began to check out the complex of interlocking caves. There were rooms filled with more of the strange smooth gravel, glimmering a dull yellow, and sharp little rocks that shimmered in the low light. There were chests overfilled with more of the same and cloth, tapestries, and small objects made of the same metals and stones.

In another room, he found walls lined with books and tables cluttered with vessels made of glass. There were cushions on the floor and the kitten amused himself by leaping from one to the other and then chasing the dust that glimmered in the light from a window covered in colored glass.

He found a feather with a sharpened, blackened tip and gripped it between his teeth, then dropped it to bat with his paws, pounce on it, grip it in his paws and claw with his back claws before flinging it again. When he was partially satisfied with this, he gripped it between his teeth, though it looked less pristine than it had, and ran with it to the next room.

This room had a long gentle slope that led to what seemed to be a pond, perhaps twice as long as his huge friend. Tidbit dropped his feather and approached, surprised to feel heat from the pool and detect a strong smell of something he couldn't identify, much like that one gas vent. Steam rose from it though the room wasn't cold. The water seemed to be moving, though slowly, and it reminded him of the water where he had nearly died, where he had lost his siblings and his mother. Where other kittens had died.

He didn't walk to the edge. It didn't smell like that water that had nearly killed him, but it didn't smell pleasant to his fastidious nostrils. The joy he'd felt with the feather faded. Everyone he had known was gone. Someone had tried to kill him and, if not for this strange creature that glowed palely in a color he couldn't name, he would be dead, too.

He wasn't alone. And that made him feel a little better.

There was another small pool separate from the big pool, more like a cistern. This water was still. This was not deep and was cool to the touch. Nor was it as smelly as the other water. He lapped gratefully, wishing a little wistfully for some of his mother's milk. His mother had been limiting the milk for a week, so he didn't think he needed it. It would just be nice to have some and his mother as well.

His urge to explore evaporated and he picked up his feather with less enthusiasm before walking out of the room, his tail not as jaunty as before.

He made his way back to where his friend was sleeping and regarded her thoughtfully. He knew she ate meat as he did, but he had never feared her, not for a moment. She was beautiful in a way completely different from the beauty of his mother and his siblings. Like the glistening stones beneath her, she shimmered in the light—another window with colored glass was inset on the wall. It made strange patterns on her silky scales but didn't detract from her sinuous beauty, her long tail, her folded wings pressed close to her huge form, that massive head with eyes several times larger than he was himself.

He felt warm thinking of her, of this strange new friend who had saved him from certain death and offered him a life unlike any he had known before.

The joy implicit in that thought brought his tail back up and he skipped his way over the uncertain ground until he reached her tail and scrambled up again, finding his favored spot on her face. He set his feather down beneath him and then curled over it.

And began to purr.

* * *

When Anathema woke, she did so all at once with a sense of having lost something. She wiggled herself on her treasure and reassured herself that none was missing. But the sense of being bereft remained, niggled at her, and disturbed her peace.

With sinuous grace, she traveled to the stone floor, trying to recall what she could be missing, could have misplaced. She went from one cave to another, noting that her pillows were tumbled in the library and one of her flasks had been knocked to the floor, but not until it had splashed on an open notebook on the table. It had shattered on the stone floor and bits of it were scattered not only in the library but on the floor of the hallway. How odd.

In a treasure room, she noted that some of the cloth that had hung over the side of one of the chests had been badly shredded and the coins were flung willy-nilly. And that there were stray bits of broken glass here as well. Surely it had not flown here from the library.

At the back of her head, a memory stirred but not with enough vigor to bring it to the forefront of her mind. She took a few moments to straighten her library and clean up the glass. Her notes from her last experiment were illegible but that was fine. She couldn't remember why she wanted to perform that particular magic anyway. If it wasn't in a magic book, could it really serve a reasonable purpose?

She took a moment to stroke her talon along the precious books she had collected over her centuries, more precious than the mountains of gold and gems and harder won. Most were the treasures of her grandfather who had taught her dragonlore and magic when her own family had rejected her for her unusual coloring. She remembered his patience and his care, even when she was young and careless and clumsy, breaking this or disrupting that.

When she was old enough, she had asked about the memories from her first moments: being flamed by a horrified mother, then, when that was ineffective, dropped in the deepest part of the sea by a furious father.

She had found she could breathe underwater and had lived there several days, maybe months, though she was just a hatchling, feasting on fish and squid. Perhaps that's when she had developed her taste for it. After some time—she didn't know how long in the dark depths of the ocean—a huge black dragon had dived down and rescued her. Her grandfather had used his magic to find her after her family had tried to kill her, brought her to his lair, and raised her.

Her grandfather explained that her coloring, her pale colorless scales and her strange eyes, had frightened them. He told her that many creatures, even dragons, could be so terrified by something they didn't understand that they were driven to kill it, even if what they feared was harmless.

Differences can frighten the small-minded, he'd told her. I was not killed by my mother, but my eyes are like yours. It disturbed her and most dragons eschewed my company. His eyes were like Anathema's own, dark purple-black like a dragon's blood, slit and shimmering, wonderful at seeing in the dark but painful in the light of day.

I mated with your grandmother one moonless night, but she abandoned me when she saw me in the light of day, had her clutch elsewhere and pretended she had never met me.

The voice, old and intelligent, was sad. I didn't try to make myself part of their community. I watched them from the water, always watching the hatchings, so proud of my children and my children's children until...

His long, forked tongue moved around his snout and then returned. I saw them try to kill you. I couldn't reach you in time to stop it, but you didn't die when flamed. So, they tried to drown you. I watched you in the scrying water and, when I realized you were still alive, I went to find you and bring you here.

He tipped his grizzled head to the side. She had never asked how old he was, but she thought, even for a dragon, he must be ancient. Everyone deserves family.

But family was not always worth coveting. Her grandfather's descendants had heard of his treasures, particularly the books. One night, when he went to hunt, they ambushed him, with the intent of killing him and then taking his treasures in the ensorcelled sacks they had.

He fought though, with magic as well as tooth and claw—he had not used fire-breath. Anathema had left the safety of the lair to fight alongside him, using a spell of her own devising that blocked the throat of her assailants. Not only could they no longer flame, but the back pressure tore them up from the inside. Four perished under her spell and the others flew away, vowing vengeance.

But her grandfather was mortally wounded. With his last breaths, he begged her to take his treasures in the sacks they had brought and find a new home, one where no one knew where she was.

That same night, she had gathered all his treasures and one of his teeth to remember him by in a magical sack along with all his other treasures and magical tools. She had flown for days, hiding during the day and flying through the night until she felt the call of this mountain, still alive at its core. She had expanded the original caves, made windows of colored glass to protect her skin and eyes, and had told herself that she needed no family but could be content by herself.

Now, why had she thought of that? That was centuries back, old history that mattered no longer. Except that her grandfather had seeded her precious hoard and she had slowly collected more over the intervening decades.

Family, what a waste, she thought, but she couldn't believe it. If only for her grandfather.

His tooth, sitting on its stand of glass, gleamed in the soft light. Loneliness was not all that wonderful either. She missed having another soul—Tidbit!

How long had she been sleeping? A week? A month? She sped through the caves to where the snow collected at her doorstep, fortunately in shadow at this time of day. The carcass was gone and there were no fresh steps around it. Clearly, something had consumed it long since. Was it Tidbit?

She gathered her breath and roared in cat, TIDBIT!

Something brushed by her leg and came to her face, a mouse clasped between its teeth. What? he meowed.

You're alive! Anathema shouted, though managed to tone it down slightly.

Of course, I am. You left me food which I ate for days until it disappeared. Something else came and dug it free of the ice and finished it off or took off with it. But, you had a number of rodents living here, more than enough to keep me fed the way they reproduce. There's a spill of grain in one of the back rooms. Did you notice that?

I thought it was treasure, anathema said. It was too much trouble to take back.

Well, you had quite the colony of mice back there. Still have quite a few but not nearly so many.

The cat that confronted her looked very little like the tiny ball of fluff Anathema had first rescued. He was small by dragon standards but was definitely fully grown and covered with a rich pelt of dense black fur. A white throat, white whiskers and one white foot, relieved the black and his eyes were now a brilliant amber.

"Are you really Tidbit?" she asked in cat language.

Of course, he said, dropping the dead mouse. He stroked his sinfully soft body against her snout.

And you're still here? Even when you ran out of food?

Of course, he said again. I love you.

And that was it, that was what she'd been missing.

Chapter 3

Magically inclined dragons may be tempted to adopt a familiar, but their lives are ephemeral. The risk is great that the cost of their loss will outweigh the boon they bring. - Wisdom of Dragons

Anathema—his stunningly pale friend had told him her name—was awake now and seemed to be roused as thoroughly as she had been unconscious before. And, while clearly thrilled to see he was still around, she seemed far less happy with what he'd done while she was sleeping. While she was a