I am alive. I have become aware of thoughts and feelings. I can feel something just upon the edge of my mind, but I cannot reach it. Blinking I tighten into a ball and drift back to sleep. It will have to wait until tomorrow. For now, I sleep.
Day 2:
I yawn and stretch. What were those strange images from my dreams? How could I have ever seen them before? I'm hungry. I much a little on the walls, slurping on the liquidy bubbles, until my stomach is bulging. I sigh with contentment, although part of me is still pondering the thing just out of my mind's reach. I beginning to get droosy again. I'm sure it will make more sense tomorrow. I'm just sure of it. I curl up tightly once again and drift off to sleep. My last waking thought is to wonder if I'll have more dreams like before.
Day 3:
I blink my eyes, waking myself up. At first I am confused. This is different then what I was just seeing, but then I remember it was just a dream. My mind is stronger today and I can reach out farther. The images from my dreams almost seem stronger in one direction. How can that be? I slurp quietly on the liquidy bubbles as I ponder this. It seems as if the concentrated area of clear thought, for me, is in the same direction of the dreams. My eyes are beginning to droop once more. Maybe I'll just save that thought for tomorrow. For now, I will sleep some more.
Day 4:
My day is growing near. I can feel it. I drink more of the liquid around me, noticing for the first time how low it has gotten. Another sign that it is nearly time for me to leave this place, but I can feel the other's thought. For I now realise that these dreams and images I've been seeing are that of another. There is much turmoil in him. What if he will not accept me? No, no, we will be the best of friends. He has a kind heart; he will accept me. I only need to give him time, and time I have to give. So I will wait until my instinct agrees with, or over powers, his emotions. I yawn widely. All this thinking has made me sleepy. I must rest, content in knowing my day is still drawing near.
Day 5:
I yawn and stretch out as much as I can to awareness, but the confinement is starting to get to me. How long will it take him to be ready? I drink in more, but even the liquid around me does not satisfy me like it once did. I want something...solid. Instead, I force myself to wait...for his sake. Just a little while longer. To take my thoughts off my own, I focus on him. He's preparing himself for something important...a mission. Apparently he doesn't know much more about this thing. The ones above him haven't told him anything. Somewhere in these thoughts I slip back to sleep.
Day 6:
The first thing I notice is he seems stronger today. Maybe he's closer than before. My stomach complains of hunger, but the bubbling liquid just doesn't do it. I can't stand it--the dark cramped space, the tasteless liquid, the lack of movement--any of it. I want to stand up, but when I try there's not enough room. I feel the panic rising, like bile in the back of my throat. The longing has also strengthened and I must go to him. He's close by I know it. The panic is too much now, and in a frenzy I claw at the walls of my prison. I feel as if I'm choking and I cough, a burst of flame scorchenes and weakens the walls, and only the stretching of my wings breaks the walls apart.
I blink at the bright sunlight for a moment before shaking off the eggshell and slimey goo. He is close. I jump into flight and soar above the the forest trees, going straight for his position. I see him. He is there. I drop down before him with a thud--I'll have to work on my landings--and I tilt my head at his startled expression. His looks are much different than I had imagined. The scales are a strange mixture of greens and browns that nearly match the forest around us, but his feet are black and nearly as leathery as my eggshell, and he appears to come in layers. Under his top scale there is a softer, tenderer skin I can see covers his short face, which is an even darker shade of the green-brown mix. His dark brown eyes stare into my bright green ones, and I stretch out my neck to get his scent, but he jerks back.
I don't understand his reaction. Why does he pull back? I shift my weight giving him a curious expression. Hesitantly, he relaxes his grip on the strange stick--the machine gun--and reaches towards me with one hand. His gentle touch completes our bond and Angelo's eyes widen. Who would've thought that he would be one to bond with a dragon? I smile at his astonishment and nuzzle his hand. I rumble happily and ask Angelo for a name. He thinks for a moment and then whispers it outloud, "Syja."
We stand there for a moment, dragon and human, in silence, but then his mind turns serious. Angelo is on a mission, and it would be dangerous for the others in his battalion to see me. Silently he warns me to keep out of sight, and he'll return as soon as the mission is complete. I let him know of my agreement and then I hide myself in the tree tops. He'll be back. Through his thoughts I watch Angelo continue on, as I snack on a bird that was too slow. Contently I drift off to sleep waiting for his return.