Keeping It in the Family

The next week was nothing but running, with only the occasional break for catching his breath and swallowing whatever Rao put in front of him. It really wasn't fair, Casequin thought rebelliously, that Rao had wings and he didn't. When he'd decided on his own modifications, the four horns on his head and the length and dexterity of his tail, he had wanted to be as different from his mother as he could. He hadn't taken into account that he'd be stuck on the ground while she flew overhead, hadn't thought about how he would have to struggle to keep up with the pace she set. And now it was too late; the shape-shift had begun years ago, and if he tried to start growing wings now, they wouldn't be big enough to carry him by the time he'd finished maturing. Not even the indignity of scrambling over rough terrain in pursuit of the flying demoness was worth the worse embarrassment of having useless wings.

For rough terrain it was. Rao led him through the mountains at least twice, it felt like, and through the worst parts of it. Even now, as he lay panting in a ravine to recover from their latest mad dash across rock and cliff, he was certain they'd passed this way at least three times. Unless his eyes were playing tricks on him, she was going in circles. And for all that, he still had no idea where they were trying to get or why.

Well, this was it. Casequin had, had quite enough. Pushing himself wearily to his feet, drawing on his constant well of irritation and anger towards his mother, he prowled towards the boulder the demoness perched upon, staring out across the bleak horizon as if she could smell what she was after in this senseless race through peaks and canyons. For all he knew, she could, even though all he could smell was his own sweat, her spicy odor, and the dust that was everywhere. Another thing to complain about: there was no water in this Zenite-forsaken place. Or maybe Zenite-beloved, for the demon goddess was hardly known to be kind to her followers.

Rao didn't even look at him when he approached, though he cleared his throat quite audibly and his paws weren't at all quiet as they crunched dirt and stone beneath them. Still, half-afraid she would lash out at him for interrupting her in whatever thought or spell or whatever she was immersed in, he dropped to his haunches beside her and stared up at her. Even though she was much larger than he was, she still always choose the high places, as if she wanted to make it even more clear who ruled who. The thought made Casequin snort, but still she didn't look at him.

"Mother," he finally said firmly, trying to get her attention away from whatever she was focused so hard on.

"Yes, 'Quin?" Rao answered absently. He flinched, ears pulling back in distaste.

"I hate it when you call me that."

Still she did not look at him, golden eyes narrow and staring into the sunset, even as she replied, "Tough. Did you need something?"

Screwing up his courage and drawing himself up to his full height, Casequin began heatedly, "I'm not going another step until--" Her gaze swung on him, blazing, and he swallowed his words in fright, trying again, more humbly, "That is, Mother, you haven't told me where we're going yet. Why we're running in circles."

The fire subsided, and Rao looked away. "We're not running in circles," she said off-handedly. "We're tracking something."

"Tracking something."

"A dragon, of sorts."

Casequin rolled his eyes; everything was a battle with her. "Of sorts?" he prodded.

"He has five heads."

"What!"

"You heard me."

"Fuck, Mom, you can't be serious." Five heads. It made Casequin's single head swim to think about it. "There's no such thing. How would it move? How would it think? Any respectable demon mother would've eaten a monster like that! Even those sickeningly sweet dragons themselves wouldn't have let something with five heads live."

"He's not one of those dragons," Rao corrected. "And he's not sickeningly sweet; quite the opposite, really." There was a smile in her voice that Casequin, despite being completely struck dumb, didn't like. "He's more like a demon than a dragon, something called a chaos beast. His name is Cheran'Khan."

Still struggling with the idea of a five-headed dragon, or demon, or beast, or whatever it was, Casequin was half-certain his mother had gone crazy. Crazier than she already was, that is. "And why are we tracking a-- a chaos beast?" he demanded.

"I'll tell you later," Rao said dismissively, leaping down from her stone and shaking her pelt, her wings opening as if of their own accord.

"Mother!" Casequin spouted, furious.

"It has to do with your father."

That silenced him. As much as he hated how Rao would sometimes go on for hours about how his father had abandoned her and betrayed her, he still didn't know anything about him-- like, oh, who he was. If this offered the chance of finding out more, it might well be worth it-- though if it turned out that this five-headed thing was his father, he might have to kill himself with embarrassment. Not to mention wonder why he only had one head.

"Now, if you have the breath for so many questions, then you have the breath for running," Rao interrupted his thoughts, and before he could protest, she was in the air again, and he had no choice but to follow her.