The Unfortunate Tale of Crackle the Dragon

The Unfortunate Tale of Crackle the Dragon. Part Six: Redemption

I flew forward into the forest, forcing myself to think of what was to come, and not what I had just did. It was dark, but the moon was full, so I could zip through the trees effortlessly. About a field’s length from the nest I picked some branches and fastened them to myself for camouflage. The rest of the way to the nest I kept low and treaded lightly amongst the foliage. I was perfectly disguised. Then I heard voices, definitely theirs. It reminded me of the night this all started. Except this night would be on my terms. I had stopped inside a larger bush that sufficiently covered my entire body, and watched. I was on a small ridge overlooking the area, so I had about five of the nine traps in sight.
As they moved closer, I noticed that they had moved right past one of the traps. My heart skipped. There were still two in front of them, one of those would get them, I was sure. But no. They were there, at the edge of the clearing where the tree containing the nest was, and they had not fallen in. Even worse, as I continued to watch, that small dragon from earlier emerged from the bush where they were hiding, and started yelling at the phoenixes. I felt my eyes widening. A dragon that small stood no chance at fending off two adult phoenixes. Thankfully he did end up escaping in the end.
What happened next I still can’t recall completely for sure, but there was a lot of running. Garble and his droogs were chasing the hatchlings and somewhere along the line three ponies, who must have been wandering by, got involved. I recall that the younger dragon, apparently named “Spikey Wikey” sided with the ponies, and a second chase ensued, this time the three I was after against the ponies and Spikey. Eventually the ponies got away, I think by teleporting magic, and at the same time Garble and the three others had lodged themselves in the trunk of a tree, which had promptly fallen over. Such a chaotic turn of events proved to be beneficial in the end.

This was it, I told myself. It’s now or never. I stealthily made my way over. Could it be? It was. The tree had fallen directly into one of my traps. I saw half the trunk and its roots coming out from the ground. Getting closer, I could hear the moans of distress. The hole was a grotesque scene. The grey one had fallen and completely skewered himself onto the spikes. One went right through his skull, scattering chunks of brain matter at the base of it. Both his legs were impaled at the thigh, and on the right one, the stick (and the fall) had snapped the femur, now protruding from the torn skin. He was fat enough that his stomach and intestines were stuck in four or five places, and a greenish brownish gas seeped from them in a foul way.

Garble was at the bottom of the pit, still lodged in the tree. Because of his lean physique, though, he largely avoided mutilation. Only his right leg was scathed. Thankfully, because of how he was pinned, he wasn’t going anywhere. First I dealt with the blonde purple one. He was at the base of the hole, and his lower section was almost completely crushed beyond recognition. Because of the angle, he was slowly losing blood, which gave me plenty of time to do what needed to be done. He came to just as I had finished removing the branches. Looking at his face, I remembered that night, more vividly than ever. How they had acted to be my friends, how they had terrorized those defenseless ponies, how the following day the entire town burned.
All my hatred, if ever dormant, was reignited. I reared up and swiped at his face with my claw. It left three small red streaks. He was awake now.

“Agh! What?!” he started to scream, coming to grips with the pain of his legs being crushed. He began to sputter out vague “Help” and “hurry” in between cries, but of course I was going to do no such thing. I looked down at the pit. Reaching in with my head, I grabbed onto and pulled the rod that had gone through the brown one’s head. It made a slight splashing sound as it hit the ground, I imagine from the blood. The purple one was quickly getting tired. He didn’t flail as much, and his screams were reduced to loud moans. Some sick, sadistic part of me hoped he wouldn’t die soon. After some brief aiming, I took the sharp pole and drove it through his arm and into the ground. I heard a loud snap before an ear splitting scream from him. At first I feared the stick had snapped but then I realized it was his bone. His forearm bent at an awkward angle, just below the elbow.

His head and other arm were thrashing about wildly. The blonde hair that covered his face now had streaks of red, I think from his arm. He was going to die soon, I could tell. But he hadn’t felt enough pain yet. I know, of course, that the traps were designed to kill instantly. And at the time, that was the only feasible way of killing them was that. But now that this was an option, I wanted all the time I could get. I grabbed the stick again and pulled it out of the ground. While still in his arm, I pulled it towards me. It jaggedly cut down his arm towards his wrist, in between the tibia and fibula. At the wrist, I struggled to pull harder, but eventually freed it, causing his hand to partially rip off from his arm in a series of tiny pops and tears. Blood shot from it powerfully. I felt the warm spray come over my face and neck. It felt good against the cool night air.

He was crying now. Crying and somewhat screaming. So to finish him off, to rid the world of him, I began to beat at his face with the sharp end of the stick, now slightly dulled. Each hit tore at his scales slightly and sometimes snagged. His head fell limp. There was no more resistance, not from a single muscle in his body. I breathed out a sigh of relief.

I walked to the other end of the hole now. Garble’s lean physique was an advantage to him, as only his thigh was stabbed. He began to groan, now coming awake. I knew I wanted to get it over with, so I quickly snatched up his arm and began to drag his body upwards by it. He screamed. It was a healthy scream, hardly shrill. The other lost his voice shortly before his death. At last his leg came loose, so I threw him into the clearing below the phoenix nest. The birds still hadn’t returned at that point.

He churned around on the ground, holding his bleeding leg, but at the same time barely touching it. I grabbed a clean stick from the hole and brought it over. Garble looked at me fearfully. He whimpered something, but my heart was beating too loud for me to hear it. I’m certain that at that point, he knew that this was all my doing. He must have thought of everything he had seen and done, and knew that I was seeking justice for those who couldn’t. That look of hopelessness. I had seen it before. But this was no innocent life. With one quick jab, I stabbed through his shoulder and into the ground, pinning him on his back. He screamed out again, even louder. All his limbs jerked wildly, spasming in shock. His tail thrashed around violently, but I caught it in my mouth, and bit down hard, snapping it. I spat out some blood and flesh and moved again to the hole. It would be over soon, I thought. With the final pike I took from the ground, I carefully aimed between his legs.

With some effort, more so than the initial stabbings, I sodomized him with the sharpened branch. He cried in terror, louder than the purple one. I drive it deeper in. At that point it must have been piercing his intestines. The violent convulsions from his torso rattled the stick in my mouth, so I made an effort to go further. With a crunch, he stopped. Looking up, I saw that the stick had gone through his upper ribcage, probably right through his heart. I turned away and stepped towards an area where the trees spaced, allowing in moonlight. I looked up. The crescent moon smiled down on me. Now, the heavens were satisfied. And finally, I was at peace. It took the rest of the night and part of the early morning to properly bury the bodies and the holes. No dragon would ever find out what conspired there. I knew what I had to do, what I’m about to do, but I can still be calm. I’ve corrected the universe, cleansed the land, if only a small amount.

I looked up again. I had turned, and now the moon frowned. How the universe mocked me. With nowhere to go, I ventured as far as I could into the sunrise, knowing that I had done the right thing.

. . .
It should be noted at this time that clutched in Crackle’s claw, along with the recording crystal, was a purple leaf.