Wings of Renewal: A Solarpunk Dragon Anthology (11 page)

“Come on.” Anabel took Elena's hand, interlacing their fingers and drawing her gaze away from the crowd.

“Wait, I've got to talk to Cal and Lara.” She could hear the pattern of their voices rising above the general noise and craned her neck to find them.
 

“Why don't you invite them back with us?” Anabel's voice was soft and low, soothing Elena's panic. “You can tell them everything.”

Elena sighed in relief. “I can?”

“Of course.” The smile on Anabel's face was as familiar as the squeeze of her hand.

“I'd love that.”

“Good. Let's go home.”
 

About Megan Reynolds

Megan Reynolds is a queer woman and a writer of women-driven short stories, primarily fantasy and magical realism. She finds inspiration in fairy tales, folk music, and the everyday magic of other women. If pressed, she considers Nancy Garden and Shannon Hale to be the most significant influences on her stories. When not writing, she loves anything that keeps her near water or mountains. She's currently teaching and seeking a little magic of her own on the West Coast.
 

Glow

by Caitlin Nicoll

“You can't touch her,” Luan said.

“And why not?” Chataya asked, putting her hands on her hips. She glared at him in defiance.

Luan sighed, as if he had to repeat it for the thousandth time. “Because no one but my mother is allowed to. Those are the rules.”

Chataya narrowed her eyes. “I've seen you pet her.”

Luan smiled in that infuriating way, but didn't say anything in response. Likely he knew she'd call him out on those lies as well.
 

Chataya glanced longingly at the dragon, curled in the corner of the room. She was about the size of an ocelot, and her feathers glowed faintly in the dim light. It's not like Chataya planned on stealing her. Well, she
had
thought about it. More than once.
 

But she didn't understand why she couldn't at least touch her, even with one finger. She'd even settle for the pinkie. As far as she knew, the dragon wasn't violent. She reminded Chataya of a house cat; napping for hours on end in the sun, peaceful and content.
 

“Fine, then I'll leave.” The festival would cheer her up and take her mind off the dragon for a little bit. The town was celebrating the solstice, and all the life the sun gifted them. The sun provided everything for them, from their technology to their food; even their homes, built in the canopies of the massive, ancient trees of the rainforest.

The air was already full of the scent of roasted bananas and juicy meat. Her stomach rumbled, and she longed to be down there, mingling with her friends and stuffing her face with sticky, sugary yams.

She turned back to look at the dragon one last time before she left. Luan was standing by the dragon's bed, running his hand down her back in slow strokes. He looked up at her with a mean glint in his eyes.
 

Chataya stalked back into the room and punched him right in his stupid face.

His yelp of alarm woke the dragon. She screeched and launched into the air, flapping around their heads like a disoriented bat. Luan's mother burst into the room, already dressed in her ceremonial robes.
 

“Chataya!” She said in her Chieftainess voice, which wasn't so different from her Mother voice.
 

But Chataya ignored it. She was so mad at Luan she hit him again. And again. The next thing she knew, she was being dragged off him.

“Calm down,” she heard her father say.
 

“He's. Being. A. Jerk.” She punctuated each word with a kick, but they fell short of their intended target.
 

“And you're being a brat,” her father said.
 

“Only because he's so awful.”
 

“And you don't listen,” Luan shot back. His mother put a steadying hand on his shoulder.
 

She lunged at him again, but her father held her back.

“I think it will be best if you stay home tonight,” her father said. He glanced at the chieftainess, who nodded her approval.
 

Chataya couldn't believe it. She was being banished from the celebration.
Banished.
 

“But …” But everyone will be at the festival, she thought. All her friends, her family. The dragon.
 

“Save it, Chataya. Luan is supposed to be your friend. This is not how you treat your friends.”

“No, it's not,” she said with a pointed look at Luan. She left before they could say anything more.
 

* * *

Chataya grumbled all the way back to her house. It wasn't like Luan hadn't deserved it. He had a way of getting under her skin, of knowing the exact buttons to push. It was an old fight, she knew, one they've had many times in their long friendship. But she was too stubborn to let it go.

She sighed and contented herself with watching the festivities from her balcony. Butterfly dragons flitted through the air, their iridescent wings a myriad of colors as they caught the light of the dying sun. It was the height of their mating season, and the air seemed choked with them. Soon, they'd return to pollinating the flowers and fruits until their eggs hatched in the sun. But that was another festival for another day.
 

Horns blew, announcing the chieftainess's arrival, and the tiny beasts scattered. She appeared out of the woods off to Chataya's left, standing tall and proud, leading the procession of other important town officials, including her parents. On her shoulder rested the dragon, its scales glowing brightly. It was different than the butterfly dragons; larger, more magnificent. Her hands itched to touch it, to run her hands along its luminescent feathery wings.
 

She flexed her hand. It ached a little, but she wouldn't admit it to anyone, least of all Luan.
 

Below, the glow dragon reared up on her hind legs and trumpeted. Then, with a flap of her wings, she ascended into the air and glided around the perimeter of the vast field. The crowd cheered as the dragon began to draw the sun to herself. Soon she was a brilliant white ball, nearly as bright as the sun itself, and she rained sunlight down among the crowd.
 

That was Chataya's favorite part, when the darkened sky lit up, and day ruled the night. That's when the festivities really began. When tens of thousands of people gathered from all over to sing and dance. When music filled the air, and Chataya could drink sparkling sangria until her head spun and her tummy felt near to bursting. Parades marched down the main streets, one after the other, with people playing drums, and troupes dancing ancient dances. Paper dragons and leopards floated through the air on wooden poles.
 

She wanted to punch Luan all over again for goading her like that. She watched Sol, wishing against all hope that she could have a glow dragon for her own. One she could pet whenever she desired. And more importantly, one that Luan could not.
 

Sol was the only known glow dragon in the long history of her people. Most people weren't even sure they existed, believing that perhaps she was some strange fluke of evolution. There were many legends of them, sure, but no one had actually ever seen a glow dragon in the wild in living memory.
 

Chataya would bet her first-born child there was a whole tribe of them, somewhere out there.
 

And that was the problem. No one remembered how the chieftainess's ancestors had acquired the dragon. She had been in the family for generations.
Centuries
, as some would tell it. Sol could be older than the forest itself, for all anyone knew. Chataya's great aunt once insisted the dragons lived deep in the heart of the jungle where there wasn't much sun, where fools went to die. They lived with the Great One, a giant tree dragon that was as old as the jungle itself, maybe older. With branches that stretched up into the sky, to kiss the sun. She claimed the sun fell in love with the Great One, and from their union sprouted the glow dragons.
 

“I'm surprised you actually listened to your father.”

Chataya jumped. Luan smirked from the stairs. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair tousled as if he had just come from dancing. Which he probably had, that jerk.

“What do you want?” she grumbled, settling back down onto her elbows.
 

“I thought you'd be out in the field. You love the Solstice.” He came to stand next to her. He smelled of sangria and smoke, and she hated him a bit more.

“I'm banned, remember?”

“Like that's ever stopped you from doing something.”

“And what about you? I thought you'd be down there with your mother,” she said.
And the dragon.
She looked wistfully at the field, where she could just make out Sol, now perched atop a giant pole decorated with flowers.
 

“Nah,” he said with a smile. “It's far more interesting up here.”
 

Chataya rolled her eyes. She glanced at him, and couldn't help the smile that formed at seeing the black eye covering half his face.
 

“How's your eye?” She didn't even try to hide the annoyance in her voice. Or the satisfaction.

Luan laughed, and angled his face so she could see her handiwork better. “Does it make me look more handsome?”

Chataya scoffed, her cheeks reddening. She cursed herself.

“No? Well, I suppose I deserved it.”

“You did.”

“Oh Chataya, you don't really want to hit me again, do you?”
 

She did. But his eyes were so bright, she thought as she glared at him. She bit her tongue before an apology slipped out, and tried to think of a way to change the subject naturally. She didn't want to think of her and him. Not now, not while she entertained thoughts of wringing his stupid neck.
 

“Have you ever wondered if there were more of them?” She tried to keep it casual, but she could hear her heartbeat pick up, betraying her excitement.
 

“More of what?”
 

“Dragons.”

“There are plenty of dragons,” Luan said, sweeping his hand out to show the butterfly dragons. They had resumed their courtship, their wings glowing bright in the gloom.
 

“You know what I mean.”

Luan sighed and settled his arms on the railing. He gazed out to the field, where his family's dragon made slow, lazy circles over the crowd. “I think there must be. But why haven't we seen them yet?”

“There are theories on the Heart. That they live there with their mother.”

Luan shrugged. “Honestly, no one in my family remembers where we even got Sol. For all we know, he came from a land far away, whose name has been lost to time. Or he's extinct, the last of his kind.”
 

Chataya pursed her lips. “I don't believe that.”

“You don't want to believe that.”

She cursed Luan silently for knowing her so well. “What of the legends? Why do we have them?”

“How do we know they didn't originate because of Sol?”

“I think they're out there. Somewhere,” she said stubbornly. Many things were said to reside in the Heart of the forest. Water dragons and jaguars as large as oxen, as black as the night. Nymphs, half girl, half fish that will drag you under and force you to be their husbands. Or eat you. Ancient spiders as big as houses that could commune with humans. Their webs were said to have healing properties; it could stitch skin back together and leave it as smooth as a child's.
 

Some of these she knew were tales. Bedtime stories for children. But others, well, she wasn't so sure.

“Well, then perhaps you should go looking for them.”

Perhaps she would.

* * *

The more Chataya thought about it, the more she wanted to find the dragons, and maybe—
maybe
—claim one for herself.
 

Chataya spent the next week planning. She didn't tell anyone what she was doing, because well, everyone would think her nuts for actually wanting to wander into the Heart, and most would try to stop her. Especially her parents. She avoided Luan as much as possible. He'd know instantly what she was up to.

She poured over maps of the jungle, but precious few had any information on the Heart. Many of them simply had a giant swath of trees, and maybe a painting of a dragon, suggesting the jungle was full of them. Most of them though were unimaginative and just drew a skull and crossbones.
 

She wondered if she was as big of a fool as the intrepid explorers before her. She would risk it though. Even if she didn't manage to catch one, she had to know if they existed.
 

Judging by the maps, the Heart of the jungle was about a week's journey down the river. She'd pack enough food and water for three weeks to be safe. Her bow and one of her father's knives went into the pack as well as all the maps. If she were going to the Heart, she would need to be practical about it, and there was no way of knowing which maps were right, and which were wrong. As her grandfather always said, the swiftest way to death was through foolish actions. In went the first aid kit, blankets, a solar lamp, and some back-up cells. Now all she had to do was wait for everyone to go to sleep.

* * *

Chataya rose early, before the rest of the village awoke. She slipped on her shoes, grabbed her bag, and snuck out the door. On the balcony, she stopped and looked over the railing, checking to make sure no one was up and about. If someone saw her and alerted her father, her mission would be done for. She'd be punished for shirking her duties, and it would be ages before she'd be able to sneak out again.
 

Night still had a firm grip on the land. Chataya made her way carefully down the path to the river. The docks were quiet. She could hear the faint sound of the guards talking farther down as she walked to her father's boat. The glow of their solar lamps was already fading in the mist. Her father's boat was moored a bit upriver, which was fortunate because that's where she needed to go.