Gardrion, the Frozen Huntress

December 6, 2011
By Jordan Salter BRONZE, Cookeville, Tennessee
Jordan Salter BRONZE, Cookeville, Tennessee
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Gardrion Aldreveuh perched upon her throne of ice, an immense glacier at the helm of the world. The light of a bright blue moon shone down through a veil of black and into the mountain of cold, making the whole of it glow, like some old lantern whose flame slowly flickered out. The structure served little more than a sanctuary, the home of the white dragon whose wings shimmered like living ice, and it was there she laid her majestic head as she searched the world below, looking for food. It was a stronghold built by whatever ancients had seen fit to call this place home, and she lived there unquestioningly, as had her ancestors. Their memories meant much to the dragon, and she dared not show them any disrespect- memories were powerful. The entire citadel often felt like a somber cask of old whispers.
It had been a week since her last meal, judging by the moon. Days were hard to count in the northern lands, especially on the peak of Gardrion’s mountain; the sun had never risen in that part of the world. Her glimmering blue eyes scanned the wastelands around her, but all she could see was snow and ice, miles of white, the loneliest of colors. As her hunger began to gnaw at her belly, a deep-set sadness crept into her heart. She needed food to live. Less than most did, but she could not last forever. Even the highest of beings need to be fed from time to time.
The expanse of frost sprawled out around her reflected the moon, a cosmic mirror that glowed with a constant brilliance, almost crying out to the world, “Look at me.” The sight was as serene as when the dragon had first seen it, and still she could not help but gasp at its glory. She wished to take flight then, casting a shadow of the moonlight, painting the canvas with her own beauty. However, as the thought set itself into her mind, then into muscle, it suddenly ceased. Something had stopped it, something in her body that would not, or could not, cooperate. She realized with a sudden alertness that it had not been something in her body, but her entire being. Her hunger had finally taken over, despite her rebellions, and she could not move.
Fear clutched at the heart of the glorious beast, a fear rooted so deeply that it soon gave way to a sadness so deep that icicles dripped from her noble snout. They were frozen tears. A burning passion that was despair burned in her; she was ashamed of herself. Not for the tears that were streaming from her suffering eyes, or the failure of her hunting, or even because she knew she was about to die. The shame she felt cascaded from the most hidden recesses of her soul, the agony coupled with the thought that no one would ever see the tears that she had shed.
She did what she could, then- she roared. It was the final lamentation of the beast of beauty on the peak of the world, the crowning jewel of the Earth. The sound echoed through the hills of the tundra, and found their way back to the dragon, who laid her head down to rest, and who would warmly embrace the coldest sleep she would ever know.
But then another noise flowed in through the darkness. It was the howl of a single wolf, lost somewhere in the dark cold, searching for a friend. The dragon opened her eyes. The wolf had found one. Gardrion knew from the howl that here, too, was a creature doomed to fade alone. She willed she could spread her wings, take flight, and find this lone hunter, if only her body allowed. Then, a realization fell over her, and she blinked twice. She unfurled her wings, and she stood. Her hunger was gone.
And on the horizon, she fancied she saw a flicker of light, and a flash of color. Had she not known better, she would have called it a sunrise.

The author's comments:
What is she hunting, and why is she hungry?

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