FSE

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After waking up in the mud Markus groaned as he slowly dragged himself to his paws. The smell of smoke and ash whipped through the air around him, clinging to his fur, clothes and made his wounds sting. Markus was never the popular person in the village, he was the only Beastmen for a start, a mountain lion to be exact. Only eighteen years of age, he was five foot nine inches tall, covered in fine orange and white fur with deep golden eyes that surveyed the world. He lived in his parents old home and had done since they had passed away several years prior.

His parents had helped build the town, literally in fact, that was how his father had died, falling from a roof he was working on and landing upon his back. His mother went a few months later and Markus had watched her waste away till one morning she didn't awaken. That was when his real problems started.

The town Mayoress had always had a distaste for Beastmen, claiming that they were savage monsters just waiting for one to let their guard down, or, in Markus's case, the child of a witches dark magic. What didn't help his case against that claim was his mother was human while his father was a Beastmen and his mother had always been a little... eccentric. She loved black and wore it often, she was exceptionally skilled with herbs and enjoyed cooking soups, stews and preserves.

She had always protected Markus when she was alive but once she passed, he was left at the mercy of the town and once the Mayoress started up, there was no mercy at all. She had slandered him and his family as much as she could saying terrible things like his mothers magic was why she died having bound her heart with that monster of a husband, or that Markus had mauled her to death at night.

He had managed to ignore the worst of it simply going about his daily grind with his mind on his tasks and ignoring what was thrown his way. His feline graces, hearing and acute senses made it easy for him to dodge the rocks thrown his way and the insults were even easier to ignore. He knew who his parents were and he prided himself on the memory of their selflessness to the village.

That had, however, ended all just one night past. There had been an accident in the woods that day and a feral mountain lion had attacked several of the hunters, stealing their catch. The mayoress had seized the opportunity and said that Markus was to blame, having summoned the wild creature with his dark beast-magic.

The angry mob descended upon his home while he was warming his dinner for that night, a stew made from one of his own chickens and vegetables from the garden. He jumped when there was a heavy pounding upon the door.

"Who is it?" he called out curious and cautious. No one ever came to visit him, no one. He had no friends in town other than maybe the baker lady and the butcher, they always seemed so happy when he walked in, trying to brighten his day. There was no answer but after taking a cautious half step away from the door, it exploded inwards.

He wasted little time, turning and attempting to flee out the back, he didn't get far when he ran into several big men who gave him a solid punch to the belly and grabbed him. They proceeded to drag him through his house and out the front. There he was greeted by an angry mob, mainly men, most of them hunters and leading the group was the Mayoress, a smug look on her face.

She was by all accounts rather pretty although Markus didn't think so, his proclivities swinging the other way aside, he knew what she was like Inside. She was roughly five foot tall with long blonde hair and blue eyes. He liked to say she was all boobs and no brains because, well, while she had an impressive rack, she wasn't the brightest candle in the shop although she did seem to have a mind for cruel schemes.

"Ah there you are, we were worried for you, we thought you would burn to death in there. Although I did say that your Blasphemous magic would protect you." she said and he bristled a little looking up at her. There wasn't much he could do, still being held tightly by those two men.

"What are you babbling about?" he asked irritably "I was in no danger of anything until you showed up!"

"But dear your house is on fire," she says grinning cruelly "See?" there was a 'whomph' noise from behind him and he turned as best he could in the grasp of those two men so see his home engulfed in flames. His eyes went wide and he felt his jaw drop as the flames licked higher and higher over the structure.

"YOU BITCH!" he screamed and struggled to get free, teeth and claws out and ready to dig into her flesh. She flinched back a little but just nodded to the man to his left and he was suddenly smacked across the back of the head and a fist rammed into his stomach.

"You've been living beyond your station you little monster," she said spitefully leaning in close "You should be in a cave or mud hut somewhere not a house. You certainly shouldn't be casting curses at anyone. But now we have destroyed all of your tools of the trade, no more black magic from you. All of your mother's witchcraft supplies, poof, up in smoke." she chuckled and turned to walk away looking towards the inferno.

"However, we can't let your earlier insult slide now can we?" she mused "No, I am after all the Mayoress, and you are just a beast, you should respect your betters... Boys, teach him that lesson." Alex felt the bottom fall out of his stomach as suddenly fists were flying in his direction, joined soon after by feet, all while his home burned. There was a crack of lightning over head as rain started to fall making the Mayoress flee in search of cover but the assault hadn't stopped till he was out cold.

As he dragged himself to his feet bruised, bloodied but alive, Markus looked upon the ruins of his former home. Surprisingly the damage was not as extensive as he had feared, the rain had come in time and heavy enough to extinguish the blaze saving some of the structure. However it certainly was not inhabitable anymore.

He died for the second time that day when he explored inside and found no keepsakes from his parents survived. Not one portrait, knickknack, piece of jewellery, nothing had survived, even his garden had been trampled and chickens stolen from their coop. Everything except one item was ruined, it was an egg shaped stone carved from marble that his father had said was a dragons egg.

He had never believed the story his father used to spin about it. Sure dragons existed but his father had always claimed that he had bought the egg at auction and that it had never hatched because it never got the right conditions to hatch.

He sighed and gathered up the stone and held it close while he looked for anything else. Even his stew had been ruined, judging by the way the pot was thrown across the room they had used his own cooking fire to start the conflagration. As he rummaged through the kitchen for anything left edible, the jar he used for cooking oil burst when he tried to move it, covering him in its slick contents. Heaving a sigh, he moved to a different room.

As he shifted another piece of ruined furniture he yowled out in pain as the fire flared up unexpectedly from under it, the flames catching his fur and clothing and lighting the oil upon them like kindling. He yowled out again in panic this time and screamed as he ran trying to find water to put himself out with.

When he got out to the front yard he was almost entirely alight on his right side and someone screamed out his name as he collapsed in a heap by the front gate. Whomever it had been ran to his aid, covering him with what he guessed was their cloak and started to pat out the flames. Mercifully he lost consciousness shortly after.

He came to in a bed some time later, cleaned and heavily bandaged. Everything hurt but at least he could move somewhat. On the bedside table was a small glass of water and next to it was the egg shaped stone, cleaned and polished showing off the beautiful white marble quite well. Inspecting himself his right side was bandaged heavily covering up the burns he suffered.

"Who helped me...where am I?" he asked aloud but got no response and started to get up with some discomfort. When the scent of freshly baked bread filled his nose he realised he was in the baker's house. She was so sweet, she must have rushed to see if he was alright after his house was burned down. Giving another sigh he continued to get up, pulling on the clothes left close by for him including the heavy cloak.

"I should go... before I cause problems for her... The Mayoress will be looking for me eventually..." he muttered softly grabbing the stone and shoving it into the hood of the cloak. He didn't know what compelled him to keep it, maybe the fact it was all he had left to remember his parents by, but keep it he did and he sneaked out carefully after leaving a heart felt thank you note for saving his life.

He was unsure where he would go, maybe the next village over or the one after, anywhere would be better now he had nothing left. However as he passed the butchers, he whistled to him and waved him over.

Saying nothing the man gave him a sorrowful look and handed him a bag full of supplies as well as a bow and some arrows before he sent him quickly on his way. The message the man was giving him was clear: Run, live and remember us. Markus was not about to betray this order, so run he did, leaving town while the guards were too distracted to stop him or contact the Mayoress.

He was some distance from town when he had to stop to rest. His body was aching, his burns felt like they were once again aflame and he was in desperate need of a drink. He sat in the shade of a willow tree by a small stream as he pulled out the water canteen he had been given and took a few mouth fulls. Giving a sigh he rummaged through the rest of the bag to see what he had been given when he heard something.

A squeak, followed by ticking and scratching, and it was close. He looked around curiously, confused at what it could be when he heard it again. Coming from behind him, and not from the tree either, it was right behind his head. He blinked and carefully pulled the stone from the hood of his jacket. He felt it shift within his paws, like something was moving around inside of it.

Placing it gently on the floor he watched as it continued to move, shaking back and forth a little, giving soft squeaks and clicks till a large crack appeared. Then another... and another, till finally it just seemed to collapse in on itself exposing a small dragon hatchling sitting amongst the shards. It was white, with blue eyes and golden wings, horns and belly and looked up at him at first curiously before giving a chirp and that changed to a loving look.

"Dad was... it was... You really are..." Markus stammered looking at it. It gave another Chirp and then a happy trill at him, a sound Markus recognised from his days watching baby birds hatch, it was the call of a baby recognising its 'mother'.

"Ah crap..."