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Scarlet

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Before I can say anything to Amy, she starts coughing. Her coughs get more and more ragged until she makes a strange wet sound. The poor girl’s eyes go wide at the sight of her deep red blood splashing onto the tile floor. She takes a deep breath and the coughing stops. 

She looks up at me, fear in her eyes again. “What, why?” She looks dazed. 

Frustration rises inside me, I wish I could heal her, but using Nurture on an unknown wound could make it worse. I glance over at a small stand under a nearby window.

My arm glows a soft green as I point it at the furniture. The wooden table slowly flexes and warps until the four legs beneath it shakily take a few steps. Once it’s gained confidence it runs over to us. I feel the small thing’s delight at being called to. Amy freezes in fear, unable to make more than a quiet choking sound. 

“It’s okay Amy, it’s a friendly table.” Another blast of joy rings into my mind from the wood.

 It runs right up to Amy before folding its legs beneath it. The previously flat top is now shaped more like a large bowl, slightly warped to better fit a person. Amy silently looks over at me, her eyes devoid of understanding.

I give my hand a small flick behind my back, which causes a pair of vines to sprout from the table’s sides. Amy lets out a yelp as the vines wrap around her, pulling her into the table’s seat. Once seated she doesn’t struggle or make a sound, her expression looks like a trapped animal.

My goal is Father’s office, perhaps the dining room, wherever my family is. I’m hoping the calm atmosphere will help the poor girl. Now that I think about it, carrying her probably would’ve been less traumatic than the whole table thing. Too late now I suppose. 

I start walking towards the dining hall, the closest option. The table jumps up and lands on its unfurled legs. It follows after me excitedly. Amy doesn’t seem to be in this world at the moment, I think the table was, in fact, a bad idea. 

It doesn’t take us long to get to our destination. With my shoulder I push the door open, holding it for the small table to scamper through. Father is slowly drinking soup while Tara is crushing entire fruits in one hand. Dad looks up, his eyes slowly widening as the sight is processed by his brain. 

I take my spot next to him and Tara. The table scrambles over and squeezes between my father and me. Amy’s eyes are still vacant and still. 

“Put the girl in the chair by Tara, little one.” The table staggers back a bit, as if shocked I spoke to it. Excitement floods my mind as well as pride. Poor thing’s delusional. It follows my instructions, wobbling over to the chair on the other side of Tara. It gently lifts the nonresponsive woman from itself and slowly places her in the chair. Luckily she’s aware enough to not just fall off it. The table takes a few gallops away before quickly stiffening into its original shape. 

Desperately trying to ignore the table’s happiness at being used by me, I try to get Amy back with us. “Father.” He looks up at me. Apparently he lost interest in the moving table rather quickly and went back to his paper. “This is Amy Kezmark, she’s the girl Iota found in the alley.”

 Father leans to get a better look at the woman, who is currently staring blankly at the table. He looks back at me with an eyebrow raised. 

“Lady Kezzzzzmarrrk!” Tara’s musical voice rings out the woman’s name. “Are you okay?” She places her hands on the table and stands in her chair so she can look at the woman’s face. My instinct to scold her fires, but I hold it back for now. Amy’s face raises just a hair to look back at Tara. 

“Hi!” Tara gives her a big grin. “I’m Tara, that’s my mom!” She points at me. Amy shifts her head to glance at me before looking back at my child. “She’s real nice, she made me in her garden.” 

Amy’s eyes regain a bit of life as her face scrunches up a bit. A smile flickers behind the face intended to hide it. She glances at me with amused eyes. 

I shrug at her. “It’s true, I’ll tell you the story if you want.” I hit her with a confident smirk. My idea has the intended effect, and the woman snaps out of whatever was happening with her emotional state.

She starts laughing, hard. Her laughter is loud and rough, like she hasn’t laughed in a long time. When she finally starts to settle down I see tears glistening in her eyes. 

She looks over at me with a small grin. “Why the fuck would you tell me that story?” 

Father snorts at the woman’s language, but keeps a completely straight face. Stupid politician. My face however does not remain expressionless and instead arranges into an embarrassed smile. 

“Well, it’s because it’s not what you think it is?” She looks at me, her expression imploring me to continue. “Tara here was grown from a seed, by accident.” 

Amy snorts, regains her composure, and loses it again with a loud cackle. “Yeah, that’s what my parents told me too!” She returns to cackling, her pale complexion turning red. 

Surprisingly Father starts hooting in laughter too, I guess she got him. His laughs mingle with her snickering and fill the dining hall with pleasant feelings. Tara looks at me with a completely lost expression. That makes me giggle. 

I wait for the duo separated by who knows how many decades to finish their juvenile laughter. Shockingly enough they do, in fact, settle down. Amy looks at me, red face stained from tears, and does a motion with her hand for me to continue. 

“Well, as I was saying.” I look between the two hyenas. “Tara was born from a seed.” Amy snorts again, so I quickly cut her off. “Which by I mean is Father here gave me a monster seed to experiment on. With some of my nature magic mixed with my blessing my little dragon here was born.” I pat Tara on the head affectionately. She makes a strange purring sound that she at some point figured out how to make.

Amy looks at my little girl, then back at me. “Okay, I know I’ve seen some weird stuff since ending up here, but she’s a little girl. Maybe an elf judging by her pointy ears, but still a girl.” Father and I tense up at her words, quickly making eye contact. 

Before I can defend my little one’s dragonhood, Tara herself steps in. “I am not a dragon! I’m a drygon! I am the firstborn of the Mother Drygon and will not be compared to my scaled counterparts!” Her tiny voice fires off an aggressive rant at Amy, who looks completely confused and unconvinced. Tara seems to notice and gets angrier. “Fine, Lady Kezmark, I’ll prove it.” 

Realizing what’s about to happen, I try to stop her, but by the time I get my hand on her she’s already twice her starting size. The little girl quickly blossoms into her colorful drygon self. Her petal wings flex to catch the light from the chandelier overhead. My daughter has a flair for the dramatic. The poor redheaded woman just stares at Tara.

“Huh, I guess she is.” 

 

【〓〓〓〓】

 

Amy is once again shaking in fear, this time at my overzealous daughter. The poor woman looks like someone doused her in ice water. With a rush of embarrassment, I realize I forgot Amy had coughed up blood. I reach over and grab one of the braided bark horns on Tara’s head and pull her towards me. She makes a yelping sound as I drag her large head towards me. 

I direct her head with my hands so that our eyes meet. “Tara, turn back into your adorable self so that you can help Miss Amy. Once she’s calm again you’re to apologize to her, understand?” My words are typical mothe— stern, scolding, but something rumbles in my throat as the words come out. 

Tara’s eyes go wide, revealing the red apples pushed into her skull even further. Rapidly her head loses definition and retracts into a mass of writhing wood. After a few seconds my small green haired daughter is standing on the ground, pouting. 

“Tara, Miss Amy coughed up blood just a bit ago, could you check her over and heal her if you can?” My tone is gentler this time, no longer carrying the menacing rumbling from before. Tara moves closer to Amy, but the poor woman scooches backwards in her seat. Her eyes are wide with terror. 

My daughter’s face falls, clearly understanding that she’s scared our guest. “Lady Kezmark, I won’t hurt you. Promise.” The girl claps her hands in front of her in an odd gesture of sincerity. “I just wanna heal you if you’re hurt.” 

Amy’s eyes flick between me and my daughter before resting on Father. Father gives a slow nod to the petrified woman. Apparently deciding to trust my parent, she slowly moves forward, towards Tara. Tara beams, completely unaware of the fact that her grandfather just vouched for her. Happy to think that her pleading worked, my daughter moves close to Amy.

Tara cups her hands in front of her, like she’s scooping water. A small creaking sound comes from her chest, which starts to glow green and white. The two colors are clearly separated, each lighting up half of her dress. Thin strands of each color pour down an arm each, trickling into Tara’s cupped hands. The streams meet in the basin, slowly mixing together into a pastel lime color. 

Mist lifts off the surface of the small pool and drifts towards Amy. The woman is no longer shaking in fear, instead enraptured in the calming lights coming from my daughter. Each part of her body is passed over in sequence by the lime cloud, leaving small pieces of itself in a few places. After the woman has been passed over completely by the magical vapor it returns into the pool. 

The liquid magic in Tara’s hands seeps into her palms. Once none is left, Tara balls her hands together. More creaking comes from her clasped hands and a tiny bud starts to grow on top. The bud swells to the size of an orange before blooming. Green and cream petals surround a glowing orb of light in the center. 

Tara takes the flower and gently touches it to each of the places on Amy’s body with mist still clinging to it. As each spot is ministered the light in the bloom dims. After the last place is tended the flower turns to specks of light that twinkle out. 

Tara turns to me, ignoring Amy’s awed face. “She had some scratches and bruises. But the reason she coughed blood is mana fatigue.” I smile at my daughter’s professional tone, which is adorable coming from her small form.

Amy tilts her head. “What’s mana fatigue?” She looks between Tara and me. “I figure it’s something to do with magic, but I don't have any of that.” I glance at my daughter, to see if she wants to speak. The child is picking at her dress, clearly bored of the situation. 

I let out a gentle cough. “Amy, mana is the measurement of how much magic someone can hold within them, as well as how much they’ll slowly fill with over time. Mana fatigue is when you use all your magic and start pulling straight from that passive regeneration. Your body can’t take it for long and starts to break.” 

“But I have no magic. I can’t do anything! If I could, I wouldn't have been kidnapped and tossed around like a football!” Anger flares in her voice, her face flushed. 

I make a pacifying gesture with my hands. “I know Amy, but something hurt your body.” I flick Tara on the head to get her attention, which she angrily gives. “Tara, could someone get mana fatigue if they overextended their blessing?” 

Tara shrugs, completely done with the situation. “Probably, but it wouldn’t be mana fatigue then, would it, Mom?” Her snarky tone digs into me. 

Ignoring my petulant child I focus on Amy. “Amy, do you happen to have a blessing?” The redhead nods.

Her eyes turn dark. “Yeah, for sure. Those creeps took me to some woman to force me to use my blessing. That’s what they said at least, I never saw anyone. Just the inside of a burlap bag.” She sighs.

My heart pangs in sympathy for the troubled woman. “I’m glad it was something relatively minor to heal. Now Tara, say sorry.” I kick Tara gently in the rear, sending her stumbling closer to Amy.

She catches herself from falling and stands up. Looking at the ground she mumbles something imperceptible. “Tara” I warn. She shoots me a glare over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Lady Kezmark. I was mad that you called me not a drygon, but I shouldn’t have scared you like that.” The child shuffles her feet, kicking at nothing. Amy nods silently. Tara hops back into her chair and starts swallowing fruits whole. 

“Miss Amy, could you tell my father and I about yourself? Your situation?” Father perks up on hearing his name. Amy pulls her gaze away from my foolish child’s shenanigans.

“Sure, I can do that.”