Chapter Five
Predjudice Hurts
Later, Starre was sprawled out on her soft, warm bed. She couldn't get to sleep. She was still excited about the protest.
She couldn't believe that the Kin were treated so horribly here. She couldn't get the image of the gored man out of her mind, and the woman's sobs still rang in her ears. It made her sick when her twisted brain combined the two.
And, then, she remembered Amaryllis, and the Bishel Dragons. It still amazed her that such creatures existed on planet Earth, and that she had had the chance to meet them, even just once. She wished Nina had let her adopt one. It was her birthday, after all.
What would go into caring for a Bishel? She'd have to feed it, of course, and give it fresh water. It'd be just like having a big, winged dog. The Bishel, at least in her mind, were about that size. But, there would be a lot of special things she would have to do for it. She would have to figure out how to play with it, and how to give it a bath, among countless other things. It would be a big responsibility, but wasn't Nina always complaining about how much spare time Starre had?
Still contemplating the responsibilities of Bishel-care, Starre drifted off to sleep. The DF thoughts had left her tired mind for now.
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The man struck her on the back, and thrust her out into the bright light. Her legs and wings throbbed dully, and she had to squint to see. Everything seemed so big.
She saw another figure standing on the grass, shaking all over. Something ran at her, a big, dark shape with claws, fangs, and bright golden eyes. She prayed that it wouldn't hurt her, and she stumbled away from the spectre as quickly as she found possible.
She heard a yell, a roar, and lots of excited shouts coming from somewhere in the distance. A loud wailing was heard, and she felt a thud on her back.
She passed out before she hit the ground....
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Starre woke up crying, clinging to her pillow. Nina was still asleep in the other bed, Since Starre's crying had always been silent. Starre felt herself overcome by mute sobs, shaking and jolting with each breath.
After all grogginess left her body, she decided that the dream had been created from the DF she had witnessed. Still, she could almost feel what it would be like to stumble out onto that grass, to feel the insults and angry words pelting your soul, to have to look up into wild, angry faces and the jaws of a lion before you died....
She cringed, forcing the thoughts away. She had learned how to do this during her brief stay at the orphanage. The human children had tormented her, having been raised to do so. Starre, being 6, hadn't understood the meaning of 'hate' and had been kind and friendly to her fellow orphans. She didn't understand that, because she was Kin, they treated her differently.
Once, someone had put Shiva-liokos pettles in her soup. She had been sick with nausea and diahrea for a week and a half after that, and she would have died if the doctor hadn't made his monthly stop soon enough to save her. This wasn't the worst thing that had been done to her. Knives had been tucked in her bedclothes, as well as snakes, spiders, and even bees and killer ants. Still, she was kind and loving.
After Nina adopted her out of poverty and near starvation, Starre was still tortured with predjudice. America, the place that had been so glorified by the orphans that Starre had lived with, was nothing more than a stricter Saxvistan, in Starre's opinion. True, she got to go to school, and she had three meals a day, but there were still people that felt that Kin were bad. Nina taught 7-year-old Starre about predjudice and hate, and the mere thought made Starre cry. How could anyone be so hurtful and cruel?
By her 10th birthday, in 2141, Starre had been almost totally hardened to the hateful comments of her peers and their families. Her old best friends, Kylie and Lydia, were African-American and Lakota, respectively. They, too, faced predjudice. For several weeks, the three had the KAP club, or Kids-Against-Predjudice. This ended abruptly when a roving gang destroyed Kylie's treehouse, where the girls met. Soon after, Kylie's father left her home, and she stopped coming to school regularly. Later in the year, she stopped coming to school entirely. Starre learned several days later that her father had murdured her.
Lydia was still alive, but she moved when Starre was 12. They were still in touch, but their interests differed greatly. Lydia found herself immersed in magazines, makeup, and boys. Starre still considered boys to be a separate, much less intelligent species, and all makeup and magazines (except cover-up and National Geographic) frightened her.
So, she didn't really have any friends left. This didn't bother her...at least, she tried not to let it. She learned to be independent in the orphanage, too.
Starre was tired of thinking. She rolled over, and went back to sleep. She would always be different, so why worry about it?
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Starre woke up late the next morning. She was feeling refreshed and alert as she swung her legs over the bed. Seconds later, she was in tears from hitting her foot on the bedside table.
"It's not funny!" Starre said indignantly as Nina walked into the room, overcome with laughter. "Honestly, Nina, knock it off."
Nina gave Starre a bandage wrap and ice pack for her foot, and left to continue making breakfast. Starre yawned softly, and went to change out of her pajamas. She selected a banana yellow halter top and sweater set, and a pair of yellow-and-orange flower jeans. Nina thought that that outfit was scary, but Starre, who didn't care squat about fashion, loved it.
Sweeping her hair into a loose bun, Starre marched into the kitchen to conquer yet another stack of waffles, and yet another day.
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"Awight," the man yelled, causing all the weary, imprisoned Kin to raise their head slightly. "We had a good strong team this year, and we need to repeat the results next year. I'll be picking a few fighters from here. You'll get food, water, shelter, and good clothing."
"What?" John said weakly but firmly, raising his head even higher. "You call our own droppings food and water? My Kin companions, if we are chosen, we shall be sent to live together, all packed into one cell, with nothing but the skins of our forefathers to cover our hides!"
"Be silent!" the man shouted, enraged. He unlatched the door to John's prison. John sighed in acceptance. That would be his final stand. Perhaps, he thought, he had driven any thoughts of asking to come from his companion's heads. He told them the bitter truth.
"Go, Gana," the man boomed, flinging something into John's room. It took John a moment to realize what it was.
It was a Dragon, but a sick one. Its eyes were dull and cloudy with mear-blindness, and it was scarred all over. Through the scars, John could see a beautiful grass green coloration, and white facial markings. It seemed to have intricate tattoos on its legs, but they were mostly covered by dark blue bands, like the band it had on its tail. It looked thin and starved, yet it still managed to get onto its feet. It began to scent the air for the thing it was supposed to be attacking.
John saw the creature's sharp, dagger-like teeth and, when the man closed the cell door, he knew it was pretty much over for him. Going into a state of submission, John knelt down beside the poor beast.
"Here," John said gently, presenting the Dragon with his daily lunch rations he had not yet touched. The Dragon, grunting greatfully, gobbled down the several scoops of mushy stew. It growled, and sniffed John's outstretched hand.
"It's alright," John assured the suddenly frightened creature. "I won't hurt you. You're safe with me."
The man had long left the area in whch John was kept, working through the inner tunnels of the prison halls. Gana, the Dragon, was still trembling, and it seemed to be searching for its keeper. It couldn't smell or hear the man anywhere, so it turned back to John. After a moment's deliberation, it bit the Kin's hand.
John cringed, bracing himself for something worse, but the Dragon let go. In a hushed mental voice, it began to speak.
Sorry, it said sadly. Master will be checking my teeth for your blood. Just lie down, and play dead. Shouldn't be too hard for someone in your condition. Quickly, face down!
Amazed at his good fortune, John collapsed on the ground. He laid as limp as possible, his eyes closed. He felt Gana making a few more gashes on his back, while chattering on endlessly.
I just hate this job, he said. First off, the people back at DF Headquarters think they're the boss of all of us Dragons, but we secretly let a lot of you live. Second, look at me! We're treated almost as bad as you guys! Not enought food, not enough water - oh, here he comes. Don't be scared. I've got to look tough.
John couldn't help feeling a bit nervous as the large Dragon laid its sharp talons against his neck. He heard a low, throaty growl eminating from Gana as the man came back.
"Good boy!" the man said dryly. "You can stay there and have a nice meal. You've served well."
With that, the man left.
Did you see that? the Dragon asked indignantly, as soon as the man was gone. Ahem, excuse me. 'You've served well?' Served well, my claw! I gave this my all! Well, kind of.... I'm just poor, old Gana, not good for anything, not even a decent goodbye.
John smiled at the Dragon, Gana. "Listen," he said, "you're worse off here, I'll tell you that. I doubt they're coming back for you, so say goodbye to food. I'll wager you will end up eating me sooner or later."
I'll bet on later, Gana said firmly. I consider eating any Draconic being cannabalisim. And that's disgusting, in my book.
John patiently waited for Gana to finish his rantings. "Who did they take?" he asked, curiously.
Oh, Gana sighed. A few burly males. They looked like they just got here. And then a little one, a girl. Gorgeous red hair. It's such a pity, you --
"A child?!" John cried in rage. He rose to his feet with surprising strength and speed for one in his condition. "Don't they know it's illegal to force children into the DF?"
I doubt he did, Gana sighed. They'll still take her, I'm sure. No one will care about one little girl.
"That's not true," John said softly. "Her parents will care."