The Chesterton Challenge: Day 16

Welcome to Day 16 of the Chesterton Challenge! The exact midpoint of the month! If you haven’t already, make sure to check out the creations linked in the notes of yesterday’s post.

Today’s Optional Prompt is: Love

Kind of a big prompt, but it was a big theme in Chesterton's work, which was full of love for people, love for God, and love for the world. You can interpret the prompt however you'd like to inspire all sorts of creative works.

Whatever you create, make sure to show us or tell us about it by reblogging or replying to this post. (Don’t forget: anyone is allowed to join in the fun at any point during the Challenge.)

Now go forth and create!

“Shard?”

Shard looked up to find his enormous black dragon creeping into their room like a dog with its tail between its legs. He walked so slowly and carefully, his claws barely made a sound against the stone floor.

“Are...Are you all right?”

Shard nodded. He didn't know why he did that. He certainly didn't feel all right. He stood in the middle of his room, exactly as he had when he'd first entered it. He hadn't bothered to take off his armor, except for his helmet lying at his feet where he'd dropped it. He still held his sword in his hand.

Blood streaked the blade, drying in brownish-red rivulets on the shiny metal. His hand was red, too. Both hands were. He raised his left hand, staring at the dried blood caked under his fingernails, in every crease of his palm....

The sword fell from nerveless fingers, clanging loudly onto the stone. His hands shook as he stared at them, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. His black armor seemed to tighten around him, clenching him in a prison of blood and metal. Frantically, Shard ripped at the buckles and straps, flinging every piece of armor off and throwing it on a heap on top of his sword.

But he couldn't get rid of the blood, the feel of it between his fingers, the taste of it in his mouth, and he knew he was filthy down to his core, rotten all the way through....

Something rough, warm, and wet suddenly swiped across his cheek. Shard looked up in surprise, just in time to see Shynael's head lower towards him again, his enormous tongue reaching towards him to lick his face again.

Over and over, Shynael licked his face, his neck, his hands, washing away the blood, sweat, and dirt like a cat bathing her kittens. His movements were slow and gentle, nothing that would startle Shard. He didn't recoil in disgust from the taste of human blood, didn't shudder at the memory of what he'd seen Shard do. He just kept licking Shard clean.

Closing his eyes, Shard saw in his mind's eye a little boy with black hair and golden eyes, standing on tiptoe as he gently wiped a warm, wet cloth across his big brother's face.

A hot tear leaked out of the corner of Shard's eye, and Shynael licked that away too. He accepted the tears just as readily as he accepted the blood.

A sob broke free, and for the first time, Shynael stopped licking him. Instead, he curled his long neck around Shard, resting his head on Shard's shoulder, and started to purr. Slowly, Shard's arms encircled his neck, and he laid his newly clean cheek against the smooth black scales.

The vibrations of Shynael's purring surrounded him, vibrating him down to his very bones. More tears followed the first, splashing against Shynael's neck, but neither of them moved or spoke. They didn't need to.

Shard almost thought he could feel that little boy in his arms.