Chapter 15: Those Big Thoughts

Chapter 15: Those Big Thoughts

I had lost the walls between several rooms of my second floor.

Great heaps of stone, torn loose by my rampaging, sat huddled against the walls and ceiling I'd carved them out of—one small passage of my canals had been blocked off, creating a still, flat pool with a few panicked silverheads. Two mangroves were dead and one was bleeding, the gash in its trunk spilling deep scarlet sap over its crushed roots, staining the algae beneath it. All of my creatures had fled to whatever corners they could find for themselves, even those on the first floor quiet and unmoving.

I had raged until I was so empty of mana I couldn't see, all my points of awareness shriveling away, and it had brought me nothing but ruin.

I supposed there was catharsis—finally acknowledging the emotions I'd stoppered up inside for so long did remove some sort of weight from my metaphorical shoulders, a relaxation I hadn't had the privilege of enjoying for weeks, but that wasn't tangible. Wasn't something I could actually feel.

And the destruction I'd brought and the challenge I'd issued was.

I doubted the idiotic brute in the cove outside could understand the draconic words I'd woven into my roar, but he didn't have to. All he had to feel was that there was a massive explosion of mana from within the nearby mountains. I didn't know the direct translation of points to the screenless power I'd had as a dragon, but I knew that the Otherworld mana was the purest I'd ever felt and all the more enticing for it.

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So now that I had thrown my hatchling's tantrum and potentially doomed my entire dungeon, I had to try and save it.

Gods.

I slunk out a few points of awareness, the mana I'd built up after passing out from my rage equalling nearly ten points to my name, and prodded my way around the caverns I'd tried my damnedest to destroy; the damage, while not necessarily minimal, was enough I could handle it. I'd only ripped down a few walls and destroyed some of my trees, not weakening the supports or gnawing away at the stone separating the two floors, and thus it was manageable.

My silverheads who hadn't been trapped in the new pond had barely noticed the ruckus, swimming merrily around in their lazy schools; only quakes had reached the first floor and now that my mana had diffused back up my creatures there felt safe enough to emerge, luminous constrictors poking their heads off the outcroppings and spiders repairing their webs. My poor fool of a cave bear had finally made the plunge and headed down to the second floor only to be met with this explosion, and he was rather quickly scampering his large behind back up to the safety and food of the first.

I'd find a place for him eventually.

Seros flicked his pale tongue out, lantern-esque eyes peering out from the den I'd carved for him—I pressed soothing mana over our connection, even if the motion rang hollow. We both knew what I'd done and what it could mean.

The kobolds had–

Hm.

All three had survived, thankfully, and had huddled themselves in one of the far corners of the second floor; but already the first one I'd created had... established herself as the leader of the group? I paused, sending a handful of points of awareness in; she had gathered her little herd into a den not nearly large enough for them, their igneous-rock horns scrapping against the stone above. She huddled them together, warbling in their strange, kobold language what I could only guess were commands. The other two nodded in agreement.

She would be one to watch, then. Already she looked to be setting herself apart from my other creatures; the other one advanced enough to be related was the cave bear, and he was a lazy bastard who cared only for my mushrooms. The horned serpent was spending her time hunting on the second floor, fooling burrowing rats into her fanged embrace, and the jeweled jumper kept attempting to take down one of kobolds to lackluster success so far.

The kobold, however, was making a group.

I pushed a point of mana into their little cave and expanded it, dust raining over their horns as I carved the ceiling up and burrowed little nooks and crannies for them to sleep and rest in the back; I kept the entrance small, to keep it away from the cave bear or Seros, but enough for them to scurry their way through.

The kobolds blinked, glancing around—they stretched tensed muscles, tapping their dull claws on the walls like they feared it would disappear. I breathed soft, soothing mana into the room, making algae bloom over stone outcroppings like blankets and pushing fresh water to drip from the ceiling.

Off you go, I urged, withdrawing my active points of awareness.

I would never be able to claim kobolds followers as a dragon, but maybe I could build an army as a core. The bitterness struck me; I tried to shake it off, turning my awareness back to the second floor.

It would do. I was fine with it.

Really.

I fled before I could fall back down the same path I had before.

Adventurers were soon to come, I knew that, and thus I had to prepare—my first floor was defined for the moment, strong enough I knew it could hold itself together if I let it be while focusing on the second. I paused, swiveling points of awareness back to the rooms with the broken walls; I could technically try to rebuild the walls, but I rather liked the larger room in the midst of the others, somewhere a larger creature could build a home while leaving the rest of the floor ready for travel.

Maybe I could get the bear to build a den here.

Either way, I used what nine or so points I had left over to poke my way through the rubble, dissolving the larger chunks of stone that were blocking paths and healing the mangrove with the gash. It shivered when I touched it, the thorns hidden beneath its bark extending as if it thought I was a prey. Already I could see a darker streak over its roots where it had claimed the life of a burrowing rat that had made the horrible mistake of sheltering under its roots, its pale white leaves extending further up than its fellows.

She stood up, dragging the attention of the others back to her. They were picking through the bones of the scurrying furred one she had killed earlier with her claws, sucking out the juice inside to ease hungry stomachs. Little prey for little thoughts.

I go, she warbled. They nodded at her.

She dropped to her stomach and slithered out, horns catching against the stone; she twisted and was free. Green-light spilled over the algae above, the white tree-leaves waving over her head. Those big thoughts remembered what it was like to hold... pieces of trees in her claws, to use as longer claws? She didn't know.

But she listened to the big thoughts. One day she would break the trees.

For now she hunted, ducking behind rocky outcroppings as she headed deeper into the stone, tail swishing. She didn't like the water, she knew that, too cold and wet; those same big thoughts dreamt of fire. She had never seen fire before.

Another furred one scurried across her path, ducking between patches of algae—she hissed and gave chase, claws scratching against the ground. It squeaked and ran faster, sprinting over the–

She froze.

Something lumbered out of another room, nearly up to her chest; it was covered in the same scales as her but dark green, except for one enormous scale that took up its entire back. Armour; something her claws could never break past. It stared at her with a pale grey eye.

Oh, her thoughts were big but she was still very small; the furred being got away as she scampered behind a rocky outcropping, heart beating hard enough to make her tremble. Maybe it wouldn't kill her.

A second passed. She heard it exhale and begin to plod away, disappearing back into the water with a splash.

She stayed hidden until her chest stopped shaking.

There was a reason she was supposed to stay hidden in the den; too small, she chided herself, peering cautiously out. Maybe she would take a different way back this time, wait until she was truly hungry to start hunting. It was too dangerous.

She went to the left this time, scurrying past the open rooms and the waving trees, following the flow of the water. Maybe it was time she started traveling with all three of them, safe in a group. There was no reason to go alone.

Another entrance to a room she hadn't seen before; she crouched by the entrance, peering cautiously through.

A pillar sat in the middle, water on both sides; but behind it, another mass of scales. A deep blue-green, flecked with silver, again so opposite to her own pale red; she tensed. Another monster. She had to get back to her den.

The monster raised its head.

It loomed above her, easily twice her height, and as it slowly uncurled from its position around the pillar she could see that it was so much longer; its claws were massive and sharp, its tail long and finned, muscles enormous under its scales. It could kill her with a bite, a flick of its body, there was nothing she could do against something so big. It turned its—his—yellow eyes on her.

And–

Oh.

He was a dragon.

Her big thoughts weren't hers– they were dragon thoughts. That was why they were so big—they were made in the presence of a dragon. He was so strong and mighty, even her thoughts were empowered in his presence; empowered! Another big word, a dragon word.

She wanted more.

But she was so small, so weak. How could she prove herself to such a mighty dragon? How could she convince it to continue giving her dragon thoughts? What could she possibly do to impress it?

She stayed there, staring at him; he was merciful, gracious, not killing her despite how weak she was. He just looked at her before returning to his rest, guarding what she had thought was the Heart—but it had to be him. No plain rock could be so powerful; a dragon ruled these mountain halls.

And thus knew every creature within.

Her thoughts, small ones she knew came from herself, turned back to the monster she had seen. The one so big, so armoured, that she didn't have a chance in killing it.

But if she did?

She turned back to her den. It was time to hunt.