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Hey,

it's been a while. I had never anticipated that this part would take as long to finish, but here we are.Things are brewing, all in preparation of the likely one or two last chapters, and I hope that you can follow me on yet another trail through this tale of mine, a dance between nature and rationale, the past and what might never be.

Enjoy or curse it, whatever you prefer, and let me know what you think if you feel like it, regardless of what that may mean. With that said, I will leave you to it.

Have fun and see you around

Bordox

---

The pest lingered. In his limitless optimism, he had expected it soon to die out through sheer inadequacy, but as the days flew on, the moon changed shape, the little creatures stayed. He could hear them from up here, shouting, laughing, living their negligible lives.

Harvest came; the new ones continued to thrive, all while the dragon felt the insistent fingers of exhaust taking hold of his heart. If not for his young, he would have long given in, let sleep claim him, but it was not the time; not yet. Fear could make the bipedals harm them, fear he had instilled in them.

His current home luckily laid high up where no bipedal paw would make contact if he did not want it to, and the latter was highly unlikely. The dragon growled softly when he felt the fledglings' presences approaching. Short, weak flaps not even remotely adequate for his kind. Chuckling deeply, he felt one of his young's leaf fall victim to the breeze, dropping his own body in length before recovering to the original height.

Adorable; as much as a symbol for the disappointment his own life was. A single failure from the moment he had engaged in the bipedals' war.

When the first of his offspring set down on the spacious plateau in front of his cave, he opened his mind, feeling her consciousness press against him, then let her sink into his deepest self. The fledgling's thoughts mixed with his, and he soothed her aching wings, opened his maw to grant her warmth. Her siblings joined the blue flame in his embrace, and he closed his eyes to see what colour his vision had missed.

He sensed the black one peeking her head out from behind his teeth, but let her proceed. Whatever the little one had once given him, the naive view on the world, the pure joy even the most mundane phenomena had sparked in him, he had already found all that in his young instead. Their mental capabilities were developing as well, so this blissful time was quickly running out, and it wouldn't be long until they shared the same rational about the world around him as he did.

Nevertheless, said duration would easily surpass the little one's lifespan. The bipedals... They lived under his grace for an entire season now, but as he had never reminded them of it, these things seemed to start believing that they truly lived on their own land. He frankly did not know what upset him about it. After all, it was his mate's last will: coexistence, seeing the world recover from his wrongdoing.

The mountain of scales sighed deeply, then noticed the mental weight he had accidentally put on his young. The anger subsided and was quickly replaced by a soft happiness to feel their presences against his. A happiness still speckled with drops of ink, however. That he even dared to raise offspring was unforgivable, being the blemish of dragonkind he was. He had often considered to just close his maw and swallow, ending what he should never have had, if not for her eyes.

Every time the thought crossed his mind, it was immediately pierced by her accusatory gaze; each time he waged to just let out his heat and end their suffering, her last, caring look burnt through his mind. Her everything had accepted him in his weakness; even in the face of his utter failure of the ancient oath of mateship. His pitiful self had betrayed every single of its fibres in every way imaginable, yet she had not flinched back in the disgust he would have deserved.

Wings torn off, spine broken, left for the animals to devour his worthless flesh, that would have been a rightful treatment for a minor creature that let its mate die. And now, he dared to protect her offspring in her remembrance, fledglings marked by his impurity through their weakness.

Time froze when a cautious sprout sprung from his inner self, one of his young venturing further through the fatherly lands. He tried to push the green extension back into safety, but with the little pressure he applied, it just hesitated, then began seeping into the stirring and brewing mass around it.

Colours swirled through the void while the young probed his mind, catching fragments of his life, the recent years, and the thoughts he had in his sleep. Despite barely understanding anything, however, it didn't seem to be enough for the young, and so he surged deeper. Streams of bliss bled into the darkest regions of the dragon's self, shook, then settled among the memories he had locked away so deeply that he would not have to touch them each day. The hopes that the black stench would scare it off were futile, but pulling the young out now would only get him more curious in the future, so the dragon let him proceed. Eventually, the young had found something; a fire his father once had particularly enjoyed to burn in.

The small, green mind clung almost desperately to the ink black memory of his mate, spikes and hungry tentacles protruding from it, alive and well aware of the consciousness that now sunk into their determined grip. They were harmless, the weakest parts of himself, shed and bound to their favourite memories and guarding them fiercely. Only if one was to dip inside, they could shred the soul. As he watched his young, though, the orb's colour started shifting, and where formerly was just all-consuming void now slowly appeared the wind-torn edges of that day in autumn.

The dragon almost physically gasped as he watched droplet by droplet of the charred substance dissolve into nothingness. In the cruel irony of fate, the small dragon likely wasn't aware of what he had done, his presence just laying still on his tongue and only occasionally kicking in its sleep.

The dragon's massive body shuttered when he looked at the memory now, pristine and without the curse, deprived of the vigilant reminder it had once meant, and it was beautiful; for the first time in a century.

Just his mate and him in a thunderstorm, a dance of heavenly gods. His empress, his majesty, his partner for eternity. He couldn't help himself but to softly caress the image, the rain on his scales, her white form against the looming clouds. Fear from beauty moulded into the grace of long forgotten days.

Lost in the moment, he almost didn't notice the red that spread through his young's root. The green, misty line fluttered as crimson seeped further into his young, until it broke completely. Immediately, the small dragon's mind snapped back into its own vessel. Finally realising what was happening, the father's presence latched out almost in desperation, pushing the green's siblings out of his mind to not spread his focus too thinly.

Tentative strings spasmodically reached out from the flickering mass that was his son, almost touching him, then collapsing back into itself. The pain was soon to follow, dripping from the tiny mind as this rogue shard of bitterness clogged his offspring's throat. It easily tore into what little resistance the minuscule presence offered, claiming it just like the memory it had just now fled from.

Only right before it could slip from his mind and fully claim his young, did the fatherly soul wrap his grip around the escapee. Clawing and biting against its prison guard, the red mist hardened and cut into everything that held it back, but it was only a fraction of him. He was its owner, its master. It had to give in eventually and so it did.

While his young's presence flickered on the brink of unconsciousness, the pain finally was pulled forth through the shaking vessel and streamed back into the dragon's iron grip. It struggled, but with nowhere to hold onto, it was soon forced back into the pool of its fellows, where it sunk into its very own memory memory and clouded it from sight and touch. Unless he wanted to have another passage through its hungry claws. Those 'demons', as bipedals would likely call them, were a part of him. He had been naive in thinking that a simple fledgling could do what he had not managed in years of trying.

He was a true threat to the world, and not even his offspring could change that.

With a bitter huff, the dragon finally let go of the unpleasant memory and granted his young entrance to his head again. As they happily flowed into him, he slowly let his inner gaze trickle out of the cave, though, run down the steep slopes and into the valley. The growing plants felt comfortable as he slid along the ground and headed for the bipedals' settlement.

His young pressed up against the base of his consciousness, and he let them seep into the soft mass of more primal dragon thoughts. Taking them with him and separating them too far from their vessels, however, was not possible at their age without risking their well-being. A soul torn from its body sure could exist, but it could never rest, never gain peace, as it would shift from host to host.

Depending on the life of another to continue existing... it was something he would never want and not even do to his fiercest of enemies. Not that they were any left, but they had fought well back in the day.

It was far noisier than it used to be when he now flowed along the valley's old river, forgetting about everything around his actual body. The dragon's young seemed fairly interested in what he was doing, so he let the sparse impressions of his experiences stream back to them while he moved his presence further among the people.

The noise increased, and so did his frustration about those incapable individuals. Back when he had met Tondan, they had been straining as well, but here inside of his mate's resting grounds, they defiled the peace of mind he had learned to enjoy throughout the last year. Now, he couldn't even hear the little one without the animals interfering; it was all drowned in an incoherent mass of sounds and pesky needs. They spewed them out into the world with about as much care as they emptied their chamber pots with. It simply were too many to focus on all of them, even for someone of his capability.

After a while of searching, he had to realise that the little one was not even at his home, but apparently, the morsel had noticed his presence when he had slid past her earlier. “Eldyr," she thought, a slight tremble in her voice as she considered her words carefully, “Eldyr, are you there?"

“I am indeed," he sighted gently as he made contact upon her request, “Are you going to ask me to leave as the little one did earlier?"

“No, why... so that is what Tondan did?"

He felt her curiosity, but made sure that she caught his lack of interest to discuss this topic. Growling deeply at her, he cut the stream of sensation to his young, then returned his focus to the heifer engulfed in his presence. “You have a different question on your mind, so speak up before I decide not to hear you out."

She hesitated at his sudden harshness, then finally indeed spoke up, “You are not that far from it, actually, dear friend. What is bringing you such discomfort that you stay away for so long? I cannot remember a conversation with you since our new neighbours arrived."

“That is because there was none, tiny morsel."

“Why though? I-"

“If you are too blind to see, my eyes will not help you, either." The dragon felt that his words almost bit off a piece of her mind, so he lowered his voice again. “It is futile to teach you or your kind; as much I do understand you now. Do not assume that I would not be grateful for the hospitality you continue to grant my young, but I am not certain that a horde of hostile creatures is a proper place for them to grow up."

She obviously did not understand, standing there in the dark of his thoughts, a lone figure in the void of his focus. It almost sounded as if she was hurt when she responded, “We may not be as close friends as Tondan and you, but I always enjoyed your presence."

“Your 'new neighbours' do not. And while you could not stop me, I have to admit that I have lost interest in meeting your kind. You are not worth the clamour of my presence, and I am not worth your sorrow, tiny morsel. I already yearn for sleep, and when my young do not need me anymore, I will have it."

He paused. Should he tell her? Inform her of his impending rest? What it would mean for them? The dragon thought for a moment in silence, then finally expressed what thoughts had long stuck with him but had only recently started to rise from his depth. “You do not need me anymore, tiny morsel. Neither do I need you. When my young leave to explore the world on their own, I am going to lay down and only wake long after you have left this world." He felt the heifer pull back, sensed her desire to speak, let her produce no words, though. “Your powers have not shown yet, and maybe, they will never reveal themselves. My leave will only spare you from trouble, not cause any."

“But... Eldyr..."

“You do not agree."

“No, I don't."

He flooded closer into her mind and softly embraced her, “Despite your pathetic lifespan, it is still sufficient to witness the start of my sleep. You will be able to wish me goodbye."

She flinched under his touch, nearly toppling off the chair she sat in, then stood up to nervously walk up and down in her home.

“Eldyr, please... take a little distance." With a soft laughter, the dragon shifted his presence but didn't back off, “Tondan said the same before he turned unreasonable. Will you also turn unreasonable? I don't like people turning unreasonable."

“No, I will not turn 'unreasonable'. Eldyr, I am worried about you."

“What are you worried about, Keli? Aren't we friends?" They sure had to be friends, he thought, a sudden, unexpected wave of euphoria rushing through the dragon's mind. Tentatively, he sloshed around at the brink of Keliara's head, occasionally poking deeper into the shapeless swirl but eventually complying to her request of distance.

“We are... friends, but... Alright, I know that you don't want to discuss it, but what exactly happened between Tondan and you?"

“He deemed his eloquence to exceed mine. I corrected his erring, and he didn't appreciate his place in this world, so we have not spoken since then," he hummed and moved backwards a little to take in more of the environment. It was a simple construction he had aided in building. The morsel now leaned at the window, looking outside to somewhere beyond his current grasp.

The moment she returned, however, a sharp pain shot through his left wing. He felt his physical form wince a little, as if someone had cut deeply into his flesh, then the sensation subsided as swiftly as it had come, and he returned to her. The morsel could not have missed the undulation on his mind, but didn't dare to comment on it, either. It tinted her soul bitter; it was disgusting, so instead of fully returning to her, he kept a little more distance now, hovering in front of her with his presence.

Not that she could see him, but it was far more comfortable than to embrace her stinking consciousness in such a moment. On the edge of his senses, he felt a few bipedals walk around, but found them doing nothing of interest, so he addressed the heifer again. “You still concern yourself with my health. Would a conversation in your ineffective language help you?"

Now, the small cow chuckled, then he felt her nodding, “Yes, Eldyr, it would." She paused, visibly thinking to come up with topics to talk about, then took the blatantly obvious answer her kind loved to discuss. “How... have you been during this time? What have you done? Since we don't talk a lot, I... am curious."

“I was dreaming, as you would call it. I experienced my past once again."

A tickle ran along the heifer's cheeks when she smirked, and the dragon noticed her nervously interweaving her fingers. “And what do you dream about? It must surely be exciting if it kept you from coming down here, contrary to your fledglings I might add."

Grumbling slightly about her accusation, he gently poked her for the comment, then responded, “A tree; a majestic tree I grew particularly fond of during my exile. Have you ever listened to one, tiny morsel? They have stories to tell you would not even experience in your nightly hallucinations. Would you like to hear one of them?"

At first, the little heifer hesitated, but finally nodded and dropped back onto her chair. “It sounds... interesting," she said and took the cup she had filled with a now stale tea quite a while back. The dragon informed her of his amusement when she tried it, only to shrug back from the taste. With a growling chuckle, he reached out to the liquid and poured a bit of his fire into it to restore its heat, then began his story:

“Think back to a time, tiny morsel, where you had not hatched already. My mate had only died a season ago and I had fled to what would become your home in a century. Snow covered your small village deep enough to kill every individual who dared to escape from their holes. You have to understand that it was also at a time at which your kind's settlement was barely developed. A gust of wind could have cleansed the world of every single one of them--a truly entertaining thought--but for some reason, they stayed and thrived under my watch."

Slowly, he let the impressions of that day dribble into her head, mostly white and cold, but a small trail of smoke rose from somewhere between the hills of snow. Keliara rubbed her arms when she almost felt the wind cut deep through her fur, before Eldyr continued, “Few animals survived the cold; nature was struck down just as harshly. At that time, you would have barely recognised me. I was buried in the grief of my recent loss, considering to wipe the bipedals off the face of this valley as well each and every day while my emotions settled."

Keliara didn't doubt his words, even less when memories flickered through the connection. Fire had partially melted the rock that he had just crushed to pieces, the floor had a shallow hole torn into it from his scrambling around in anger, and the early villagers only missed his mountain-shaking roars and growls because the man-deep blanket of snow muffled most of it. What little reached them was indistinguishable from howling wind.

She knew his emotions for a while now, but such raw expressions, unhindered and almost... juvenile? “I indeed was younger back then, tiny morsel," Eldyr noted with a hum, then continued, “After one of those rages, I searched for something to murder out there, some life to claim, regardless of what it would end up being. It was partly to recover the strength lost in my outrage, but mostly for the fun of it, or rather what it used to bring me. And there I found it: that particular tree I am meaning to tell you about."

The dragon noticed her amusement about his remark, then growled through her head. “If you are not interested, you are free to tell yourself a story that fits your taste more precisely."

“No, no," she laughed, looking outside to see her husband talk to one of their neighbours, Tondan sitting a bit off the others as per usual. “I am interested, but... it's just funny how you built up to it."

“My story was not meant to spark your joy, tiny morsel."

“Still it does."

The dragon grumbled again, but didn't disagree and eventually moved on, as the sensations of this particular moment flooded into her mind so suddenly that she felt as if growing bark herself for the fraction of a blink.

“The first thing you might notice when you make contact with such a being is their age. While a tree's lifespan is as pathetic compared to my own as yours, it vastly exceeds that of most creatures, and its emotions are similarly interesting."

What now came from the dragon was different in a very peculiar way. Prior sensations had been more of a touch; now, however, she felt something she could not describe, something... deeper.

“Of course, you cannot understand, tiny morsel. So just listen. Feel, do not think." Eldyr chuckled much to her displeasure, then continued his tale. “When I touched its presence this time, it taught me something. It stood there in the wind, the snow, never giving in to emotions or complaints. It had recently lost a root when a rat had dug its tunnel, but it continued to dream of summer. It remembered the warmth of the sun on its bark, waited patiently for something it knew would come back. Do you feel its peace, tiny morsel?"

She couldn't, but the dragon didn't seem to care particularly, just kept sharing his incoherent thoughts. Keliara stopped listening for a moment, considering a question that would interrupt his narration and could anger him, then decided to speak up anyway, “You are not only going to tell me how much you adore that tree, are you?"

“No, I am not, but for the sake of your mental immaturity, I am willing to put it into more understandable terms for you. I do, however, not wish to hear no complaints that what you are about to experience is purely my invention. So..." The dragon's mind pressed closer, and before she could even respond, Keliara found her own sensations washed away by his impressions.

At this point, she had to trust the dragon not to let her body drop onto the floor, for she simply wouldn't notice anymore. Images flooded forth, days running on like the pages of a book being flipped under Eldyr's influence. Sun, rain, snow, fog, ice, a mild breeze, all flashed though her head, a blink stretching to her life, despite her having no sense of the time that passed. It was truly fascinating and upsetting alike; the way she felt like she grew.

By the time she was taller than a house, for whatever reason she knew that evaded her, a sudden jolt of pain shot through her. Through Eldyr, in fact, she had to realise when the connection flickered and she was suddenly thrown back into her own body, coughing and trembling.

“Are you alright, Eldyr?" she chocked, not prepared for being back in her normal body and having to breathe on her own again. The heifer blinked her teary eyes, then noticed that her husband was standing in the door frame and stared down at her with a deep concern.

“Keliara? My love, what happened?" he asked, as he hesitantly approached her, “Who are you talking to?"

“Me," Eldyr growled in response. Keliara felt him pushing against her Semon's mind as well from the sparse flicker she caught of the horse's thoughts.

Apparently, the dragon had recovered from his paralysis, and she could clearly feel his unwillingness to address his pain once again. “Do you wish to continue the story, tiny morsel? Your mate will not be able to experience it, for his mind is too limited to see, but I may show generosity in your case."

“What is that supposed to mean?" Semon scoffed but was promptly laughed at by the draconic presence.

“You, morsel's mate, are too incapable to feel any more complex sensation than your stomach grumbling. We can talk, but there is no space in your head for more than your own pitifully limited way of thinking. Pardon my bluntness, but you simply are too stupid," the dragon responded coldly, then cast Semon out of the connection, “Do not speak in his favour, tiny Keliara. Answer my question, then we will continue, or I shall retreat."

“What happened to you, Eldyr?" the heifer muttered in confusion as the dragon retreated to the back of her consciousness, barely present anymore.

“A pain of unknown origin, similar to the first time. Do you wish to continue to listen?"

“No, I..." she replied more out of an instinct than anything else. Keeping muttering for a while to find the right words in this mess, she felt her mind slowly clearing up, but by the time she had recovered, the giant lizard was already gone, merely a tinge of sorrow left in his wake, that tinted her every thought.

The dragon retreated back to his own body, already feeling his fledglings pressing against him and snoring deeply once more. The green leaf had settled down close to the front of his maw, stretched out on the colder flesh near his teeth, and slowly drifted through his more recent memories. The others preferred a place further towards his throat where the warm air from his depth had not cooled as much. Slightly amused, he reached out to grasp their presences and pulled them deeper into his mind. They would grow up, but for the time being, he felt strangely... satisfied with their inadequacy.

His deep relaxation flowed into them and calmed their flickering thoughts. With fading interest in his surroundings, the dragon eventually retreated completely into his own head and focussed only on what was invisible to the ignorant. At first, he considered only sending half of his self to rest, then decided against it and slowly relaxed the other half as well. Just a moon cycle. Time to think, to remember.

If his young wanted something, they surely would find a way to catch his attention.

Hay, warmth, and a mild breeze tickled in the stag's nose.

Laying there in the barn on the so far unoccupied upper floor, he could almost forget the strain of recent days. His right hand absently reached for a bundle of the fluffy material, and he smiled when he felt it trickle through his fingers. Clunk. He stopped; that definitely came from the entrance. Lifting his head, Tondan first saw a set of black ears slip inside, then the door closed again.

„Elimere?“ he asked, „Are you there?“ No answer, just the ears disappearing being the edge of the raised floor he laid on. “Do you want to play again?" When she didn't react this time, he sat up and yawned widely, “It is-"

“I don't need to hear more of your... crude fantasies, Tondan Kodarsson," a female voice responded, her undertone drenched in disgust, “we do have to talk about my daughter, though."

Daughter? That meant... “Pardon my mistake, Melerena. I indeed thought that Elimere had entered in your stead," he quickly apologised, straightened his back, and tried to get a look at her to assess the situation.

“You made me despicably aware of it." The older fox sighed again as her steps paused out of his sight, “Will you come down here or do you want me to come up there to 'play' as well?"

Scoffing in irritation, Tondan crawled to the edge of the platform, accidentally dropping a little hay down at a grumbling vixen, then made his way down the small ladder.

By the time he got there, she was already waiting on a bale nearby, having gracefully crossed her legs and staring at him with a mix of both spite and poorly concealed hatred. “So, Tondan, our saviour and hero for all times, what is it exactly that you would have done if Elimere had come 'in my stead'?"

“I don't understand what you expect to hear." He replied in all honesty, but Melerena looked barely satisfied.

She huffed slightly, but finally condescended to give a reluctant answer, “Well, what would those games of yours have involved? A whisper here, a touch there? Maybe a minor spell from time to time to keep your secret, before you went for more?"

“What are you implying? That I defiled your daughter behind your back?"

That set off the fox's ire even more, and she jumped up. The recent times seemed to have not only replenished her energy but also taken the fear off her, as she now snarled and pushed him against the wall.

“You did so right in front of my eyes, hoping that I wouldn't know the changes! Have you talked to her recently? Well, of course you did! Your disappearing with her regularly... She is not the same since you came into our lives. You and your dragon friends took my beloved foxy from me, and one day I will take your life for it!"

Her eyes had an almost draconic look when she shoved up against him a little harder, “You will never talk to her as long as we are here. And this will not be for much longer, either. Do you understand that?"

“I can assure you; there is nothing you need to worry about. I don't know how you could even get the impression that-"

Another push shut him up again, emphasizing that she had no interest in hearing discussing the matter. “You know exactly what I am talking about. Filthy dragon bastard." She spat out, then just turned around and rushed for the exit, a dramatic sway in her tail.

Tondan had no idea for how long he stood there, frozen where Melerena had left him. It was not like he feared her. With her more than thirty winters, she was too old to be a risk for him if it came down to it; bodily at least. Rather what she said had... stirred something.

He had somewhat happily lived in complete isolation from the outside world, but now there were people again, judgement, opinions, and he didn't know whether he could get used to it again. Misunderstandings were prone to happen. Oh, he wouldn't spend another moment thinking about the floundering allegation, but the sheer fact that it stood there...

A shake of his head quickly got rid of the line of thought as he passed the collection of sleeping quarters on both sides and stepped outside the barn as well. Blinking in the sunlight, he looked around the buildings, especially the first family home rising in the back.

To his surprise, no one had left after the incident with Deifel. Maybe through reluctant acceptance, the four fledglings weren't particularly welcome for some, however worth nothing more than a snarky comment whenever one of them approached to play.

It did not solve the issue of living space, though, as the group needed stable sleeping arrangements to stay for longer than a moon, and so they had started the effort of constructing their next building: a home for the foxes. That these plans contradicted Aseran's threat to leave their community barely seemed to dawn to the fox, but when caught on it, he usually argued that the building would find another purpose once they were gone.

As things progressed quickly, the central post--more a barked log--stood in the centre and already was surrounded by a collection of thicker, somewhat straight branches. Without Eldyr as a draconic sawmill, they sadly had to rely on other techniques to turn the time-consumingly transported logs into beams, so they had decided to mostly resort to stripped branches for the lighter supports. The walls would follow next, but luckily, someone had found a considerable pit of clay not far from their settlement. Only a few shovels of black soil separated them from the material, and it was far better than to attempt transporting that material here as well.

On second thought, the location of their endeavour in its entirety was not ideal, being chosen with a dragon for the logistics in mind, but the promise of safety and proximity to water and a place to sleep close by for the time being made it acceptable.

Another issue it did neither cause nor solve was said dragon's occasional visits. He felt Eldyr roam among them, not daily, yet often enough to bring him discomfort. The invading presence wasn't directly graspable, no, he could rather be felt as a sudden gust of wind on one's skin when he glided through their homes. It was so obvious, however, that some had even started developing suspicions of dark forces behind it, Elimere's father in particular.

On the other hand, with a lively group of dragon young visiting regularly, there were more reasons of concern than an uncomfortable sensation every now and then.

Right when he was heading over to his own home, admiring the development of their vegetables, he heard a call from behind, “What-ho! Tondan!"

Turning around, he spotted four of the former loners nearby. The mustelid at the front had been shakily steering their improvised cart for the last section from the deeper river part, but was now waving him over. On the way to the construction site, though, she seemed to have missed a softer spot on the ground. The left wheel had apparently gotten stuck, and while all pushed and pulled with their collective strength, it was barely enough to move it.

“Sure. Let me help!" he snorted at their effort as he joined them. Maybe he had extended his break too long after all, but only a fool would admit their mistake now that it got apparent.

Placing his hands onto the stubborn log, he could feel the weight of the solid material, immediately being taken back to his times in civilisation. The wood was rather soft and light, a birch in its best years. It would also still be sufficient to build a home that lasted, while still being light enough to transport... usually.

“Together: push! Push! Push!" the stag instructed the younger folk around him, leaning even harder into the wood, and finally, the cart hopped out of the ditch and was back on track, not without sending its guide to the muddy ground, however. What was her name again?

Nah, it didn't matter at the moment as she unleashed a flush of curses while combing the soaked dirt from her fur, then gave up and returned to her position at the handle. In any case, she could be assured of the attention of all bystanders, first and foremost their ridicule.

The further the cart got up the ledge and onto the used paths, the easier it got, and eventually, the shaky device had reached its destination, where they would roll it off the bed and onto the ground to be barked by Elimere's siblings, at least the two of them who were old enough to work.

The youngest one, proudly sitting enthroned on his mother's shoulders, had developed great for his four winters. Elimere came next with five more, having just left her first childhood and being at the beginning of the path to her next big step, while the other twin boys had in fact finished that stage here. With their fifteen winters, they were full members of their community now, but still shared the juvenile bond with their parents.

Tondan of course didn't miss the vixen's cutting gaze when he stood there for a moment and watched them work, so he turned around with a scoff and went to help with the next log, the third of five that were to come downstream today if everything went smoothly.

“Smile, you've done well today," Tondan panted later that day as he sat down next to a very tired marten, dried clumps of soil still stuck in her fur.

“All that to build a house you don't even call your home afterwards," she responded, but could muster a short grin eventually, “nonetheless we showed your old bones what it means to finally work."

“The youth is getting more unbearable by the day, it seems. Try pulling yourself out of the mud next time. I will be happy to place my old bones right here and watch you doing so," he responded, then shook his head, idly running his palm over the rough bark under his rear.

Despite the continuous work, it still felt strange around the newer members of their small community. On the other hand, it might have been a tragic consequence of them never having had free time on them since their arrival; not unlike himself, as he had to notice. Shortly after they had moved into the barn, sleeping arrangements and distributing mundane tasks had kept everyone busy, not to mention the minor arguments about the unusual situation. With those problems ultimately solved, the trouble had continued with the planning of the construction and the first major conflict over their situation.

On top of that, their field had required attention repeatedly if they wanted to hope for a harvest before winter that would feed them all. And it also didn't help the mood that the entire time the presence of a giant, moody dragon laid atop them.

His line of thought was suddenly disrupted by a short, genuine laughter, however, when she, Stelanse might have been her name, noticed an escalated argument of the two fox brothers at the river, “Well, Tondan, you might start watching those two for now." She looked at him for a brief moment, before focussing back on the two, crackling from time to time at the now-black lumps of fur rolling around in the shallow water.

It was strangely captivating to see such ingenuous inattention, almost more than it was surprising that they still had the breath after such an exhausting day. 'Exan and Forlen,' he thought, feeling like he was watching the two dragons battle it out to win their father's favour once again. The short snarls could have almost made him believe his treacherous eyes, then he blinked a few times, and the two young were back to being foxes.

“Hey, you brats! Leave each other alone!" He briefly caught their attention, noticing their ears flick up to him, but they did not seem to care particularly.“Wash up and return home so you don't keep your mother waiting. It's getting late and you don't want to be outside at nightfall!"

The ominous threat made the two finally stop, yet with both still having their paws dug deeply into the other's collar. “We know that monsters don't exist. We can stay as long as we want," the decidedly muddier of them argued, but seemed to waver in his opinion rather quickly as Tondan put up a knowing grin.

“Do you want me to call the dragon?" A short look passed between the two, then they stood up. He could have sworn that they even looked slightly embarrassed as they nodded and quietly headed for the deeper yet still safe waters to follow his orders.

Only when the foxes returned, he realised that he had indeed given someone else an order and they had listened... Peculiar. Stelanse had noticed the effect as well and gave him a short, confused look. “I apologise. I shouldn't have been so patronising with them, considering their age. Ìt is not my authority."

“It's not that," she noted after a moment of silence, “I've just never seen them as... biddable recently. Not even in face of their father."

“I am surprised that they listened as all." Tondan shrug his shoulders and nodded over to the two rushing over to the barn as if Treshken himself was on their tail, but she kept up her doubtful gaze.

“If I were honest, it is not that surprising. With a weak coward for a father who does not even dare to approach the little demons, you are the best alternative."

“I, the old pile of thinning fur and bones, little more than a henchman to you young people, am supposed to be their paragon?" he joked and rose up to stretch for a little, hearing something crack loudly, “See how brittle I am?"

“You are not the oldest one here, after all. And yes, I think that especially the night Keliara and you brought us here has stirred something in them. They respect their mother out of nothing but habit these days, and while I have known Aseran for long, I don't know the man now carrying his name. Don't deem your influence on them so little, Tondan. I-"

Whatever she would have said next was harshly interrupted when a deep flap sounded through the valley. It was quiet but echoed off of the cold, imposing walls of the valley.

Another followed in its wake, making Tondan's ears twitch while he saw the mustelid next to him stare fearfully at the setting sun; the wrong direction to spot Eldyr approaching.

Only when the third, and significantly louder, thrust of his wings sounded from half the valley's distance did she spot the stain against the last stretch of red sky. In a way, their central position in the rocky cauldron was both reassurance and malice. They would always see him coming, but it meant that they had time to prepare and panic.

Just Tondan's respectful but determined hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks to alarm the others and brought her back down onto the seat. “Don't. He doesn't want to harm us, just like his offspring."

'And even if, there is no point in running,' Tondan shuddered, vividly remembering the memories Eldyr had shared with him, but kept this note to himself. While she likely knew it as well, it was unnecessary to further fuel her fear. Instead, he started walking out of the half-perimeter that their settlement formed, hoping that the dragon would head there as well.

After all, he would barely fit between the houses, and repairing what had once been built with his help would drastically slow down their other endeavours. If they weren't finished before the first snow, it would mean more trouble than necessary and possibility the end of their current plans. Oh, fixing what he might break was most certainly nothing he would do; not after his recent declaration.

“You think terribly of me, little one. I would not break your precious little wood caves. They are hardly worth the effort after all," Eldyr's voice already sounded through Tondan's head, while the stag could see their fields tremble and bend under the dragon's flight and heard the other settlers having caught attention of the sound as well. It did not take long until the first gusts of his slowing flaps rattled his and Keliara's house, before the mountain of blue scales dropped down little more than a hundred steps from them.

The deep voice returned, this time with the usual, all-engulfing touch, “do not pout, little one. I am merely here to inspect your progress and witness with my own eyes what my young find so interesting about your meaningless, little project."

Tondan just scoffed at the claim. He knew all too well that the dragon could simply have dug through the fledglings' memories to find that out, but he didn't push the topic. There was no point in letting the situation escalate again. At least this time, his thoughts also seemed to be uncaught up by the dragon, but he couldn't be as sure as he'd like to be, either. “What do you want here, Eldyr? If you have just come to-"

“I have not lowered myself to simply pity you in your existence, no. I came to alleviate your and the animals' concerns."

“By coming at the brink of night, the soil trembling under your rage?"

“My rage," the dragon growled in an uncomfortable voice between amusement and promise, “you know my rage well enough by now, little one. Furthermore, would you have preferred it if I walked here like your insolent, yet incapable, kind? A dragon of proper age only wanders the earth if their wings are torn from their body or they are too weak to claim the heavens they have the natural rights to possess; a degradation I do not intend to stand for just your personal amusement. Now either express your meaningless plaint or accept my presence."

The dragon hummed deeply, then closed his eyes, pulling back from the stag's mind. A short rustle sounded from his wings as he tugged them to his body and sunk deeper into the grass, that now laid flattened under his giant form. Tondan just stared up at the blue rock in front of him in disbelief, feeling the dragon's mind roam the area every time Eldyr briefly brushed past him. He already saw a few of the newer members in the distance, but they stayed back. Nobody wanted to be the first to get devoured, after all.

“You don't seem to gain their trust quite yet, do you?" Tondan scoffed, looking at the fox family cowering terrified behind the vegetable planter boxes. Only the little Elimere tried to come closer once she spotted Tondan near the huge dragon, but her father clung to her, unsure whether he tried to protect her or just sought comfort in the face of danger.

“They will learn eventually," the dragon growled against Tondan's head in response, then returned to observing the settlement. His consciousness flickered briefly along the few people in sight, making everyone shudder he came in too contact with, then retreated in his own head for good.

Breathing out, he just let out a short gust of wind, before seeming as lifeless as the soil his presence left. If he wasn't a massive coil of dragon, he would have almost passed as a stone mound in the landscape.

Keliara and Semon were still in their home and seemed fairly uninterested in the events outside, judging by the fact that not even their shutters were opened despite the hushed clamour outside. While Tondan grumbled in frustration but retreated from Eldyr's form, the others slowly started poking their heads from their covers.

He passed Stelanse a smile and shook his head to head home as well. Nothing more would happen, so where was the point in his presence? There was no discussion with the dragon, no way to convince their new neighbours of the harmlessness of him, assuming on didn't violate his commands, so he went to bed instead in the flimsy hope that he could sleep through whatever was to come.

A summer day streamed through his head as the dragon focussed on his own memories. Feeling the wind on his scales of past days, he looked around. The sun's searing light shone down from above, while he sat on the ledge of his former home. His eyes locked onto something in the distance, then on the white figure underneath his wing.

For her, the sun's warmth was pleasant but not optimal, and as it heated his dark scales far more, it was a welcome pleasure for him to share his advantage. With a delighted hum, he pulled her even closer into his embrace and against his flank. She was smaller now, not much of course, but it gave him the little more in height necessary for their position to be comfortable. In their first decade, they had been the same size, but the lives she created at the moment visibly took their toll and influenced her growth.

His mind almost shattered at the images, the 'demon' digging deep into his presence, now that it sensed his lingering touch. The acid of his anger coated his presence when the vile creature returned and dug into the precious memory once again. His mate was at his side as it should be. It should not have happened, it should not--

Her embrace, her slithering her long neck half around his, stinging pain. He pushed it back, cut off the tendrils, and sunk down on top of her, a blanket to keep her safe.

The next moment, an orange fang rose from the ground, pierces right through her and drove deep into him next, but he had endured far greater pain already, so the dragon pushed it back. But it kept digging, tearing into more and more into the memory and permanently slicing apart what he was too slow to protect.

A desperate growl even escaped his bodily form when he slowly lost the fight, then eventually had to surrender. It was a fraction of himself; why did it have such power?

Like a fledgling, he was brutally torn from the bliss again and snapped back into cold reality.

Sensing his surroundings, he noticed one of the animals at his flank, staring over to him and trembling in shock, probably from his accidental outbreak.

“Please. I... I didn't want to disturb you, oh beast," a voice cried out when he opened an eye. The morning sun pierced his sight the moment he lifted the lid, but he could still spot the figure standing close by.

He gave a short, dry laugh, almost immediately noticing the creature's lacking intellect and stopping before it died on the spot in its fright. While minuscule understanding seemed to be a property all elongated rats shared, the liar at least had its courage. But even that seemed to be missing in this example of its conspecifics.

“You did not, rest assured. If you had, you would have felt it by now." His words had an effect on the thing; not the exact one he had desired, but at the very least, it stopped retreating now. It was quiet instead, waging its options between flight and further pleas judging by the primitive thoughts wafting from its head. “What were you doing that could have disturbed me? Speak. Your life or health will not depend on what you are about to say."

“I... I just looked. But your growl, I... Please, I am s-"

“So you deem me a liar?"

“Why... No. No. I would never..."

“Why do you refuse to believe my assurances that you did not disturb me, then?"

That deprived the creature of its words for a moment. It still trembled, however, so the blue mountain figured that a shift in gaze would be a measure to calm it. He continued speaking, but didn't keep the open eye locked on it as intensely, “In any case, you just did what I wanted you bipedals to do for most of the time."

“What you wanted?"

“Your kind is calmed by the present but unchanging. Just like you finally dared to come closer after an inert night of my presence."

“I don't understand what-"

“Of course you do not, tiny rat, but again. Rest assured that I will not hurt you. Pain tastes bitter to me as of late, just like your kind's apprehension towards me." Closing the eye completely, he breathed out, immediately feeling the rat's heart beat a little easier.

“What would you have done if I had stayed inactive instead of starting this conversation? Would you have proceeded to touch what your eyes were sufficient to see? Would you have sated your curiosity by direct contact?" he continued, feeling her blood rush quicker again and sensing a lie creeping up the small female's mind.

“I spare you expressing your incapability. You would have. Not immediately, that is for sure, but you considered the option," the dragon sighed, then blinked the eye towards the rat open again, “your kind is a hopeless case. Primitive, predictable, insolent. But I would be willing to allow you the touch. However, I feel your urge to leave. Do you wish to feel my scales or follow this instinct now?"

She did not dare to move. Just a nod expressed her will.

“Leave then. Although I never prohibited it to begin with." He stated and watched her sigh in relief. It was quite amusing how the animal even dropped a small curtsy at his words, then ran off somewhere between the flimsy houses, seeking shelter in the illusion of a home. She would return; some day. He was certain of it.

A few days passed like this. Tondan occasionally caught a few staring at the blue rock next to their settlement, but after Stelanse claimed to have been almost devoured, the rest of them kept a careful distance. They merely acknowledged Eldyr's inactivity as a sign to be safe as long as they did not approach him anymore.

Some asked Tondan what the dragon wanted, but naturally, he had no idea, either. “It happens from time to time that he simply visits us, at least it used to do," he usually said in those moments, although the dragon had never stayed as passive so far. The unsettling mood seemed to even have inflicted his young, the fledglings keeping themselves busy somewhere else.

It was disturbing to say the least. For the time being, despite the dragon being as calm, there was no telling when that would change, so finally, the stag moved up to the scaly mountain.

“Little one," he was promptly greeted as a well-known consciousness first crept close, then slowly retreated again, barely keeping up the connection, “why have you come?"

“That was my question exactly, Eldyr," the stag wondered, “why are you here? You didn't speak, didn't move... Eldyr, what are you even doing here? I don't believe you that you seek our trust, to be honest with you."

At first, the dragon didn't answer. Merely a deep chill wafted from him and burnt deep into Tondan, then he pulled back even further. “Does it matter, little one?" was the last echo before his presence retreated back entirely.

The stag thought that he would return, but Eldyr stayed away. A moment in silence. Another followed in its wake, then Tondan raised his voice again, “Eldyr? Old friend?" He could hardly believe his words, was shocked himself that he meant them in all honesty, but feeling the giant lizard like this awakened dire memories. “Did something happen?"

Tondan knew that the dragon was there; not his presence, but someone like him always listened, couldn't prevent himself from doing so. Tondan waited, breathed in the mildly pressing silence, then finally sunk down against the blue scales.

They were cold; for the first time in years. Eldyr had returned to playing rock: quiet and unmoving. If not for the occasional gust of air barely shaking the blades of grass, it was not even clear that he was alive anymore.

“We are making progress with the house," Tondan eventually said, regardless of whether the words were processed, but they were heard at the very least, “even without your help, whether you believe it or not. It surely would be easier with you regardless."

Tondan paused and felt no rejection, so he raised his voice again, “But still, it will be close with winter on our doorstep. Not even our best efforts can hold up nature, no matter how much we would like to. It is a good deed, though. The barn is at its limits at the moment, and it will be a great relief for the foxes to have just themselves around. If you ask me, I doubt that they will leave as Aseran had promised. That alone proves how much we have achieved here, and I am proud of everyone in this community, regardless how frail it is."

The stag grinned as he patted the dark surface, a memory darting through his head, “For example: A few days ago, my friend, I sat down at the river, or at least what you left of the shores after the playtime with your young. Nevertheless, I sat there, looking out at the rising sun. It was barely above the horizon, but there were others, sitting at the river's shore and talking about the most meaningless topics imaginable. I never thought that I ever wanted to hear about this nonsense again, but I found it soothing.

So much had changed since then, and I am enjoying the life in a community again. More than that. After noticing me, they wanted me to participate. Aseran was not quite happy about my presence, but it worked out in the end. We got along and could simply spend some time of respite before the new day of work would test our endurance. I never was as stern as my father, sure, but in that moment, I felt like the fawn you met all those years ago--before it all happened. You claim that I have many years left, and I do, but at those rare occasions, it feels... graspable. I am starting to enjoy this life of ours here."

Tondan's monologue continued for a while longer, until he finally felt the cold move up against his mind again.

“Why, little one?" The question itself was simple, too simple considering that he had just started explaining the different kind of flowers that he planned to plant around his house.

Luckily, the sensations that streamed besides it gave kind hints on its true nature. Eldyr, of course, hardly cared for the stories Tondan had told him, found them needlessly tiring to follow. In a strange way, it made the dragon both a truly terrible listener and an excellent one, depending on what the situation needed. Eldyr might have commented that line of thought, then decided against it, however, when the stag started to speak instead, “I don't know, Eldyr. You looked like you would like some company, and I wanted to know why you came for a visit. But apart from that, I may just miss the old times. You have been acting off lately."

“Would you have preferred me threatening to trample your worthless shelters to the ground? Is it such that you expect?"

“No, but I didn't expect a quiet observer, either. After our last conversation, I was afraid you would try to take control of our deeds, but now you simply do... nothing." Silence. While the blue dragon didn't move his mind, he refused to answer as well. The only reply Tondan got was the spot he laid again getting a little warmer.

“I still don't agree with your position," the stag continued after a while, “I think that you are well on your way of becoming an arrogant pighead, but I... I had time to consider, and I think I am starting to at least understand your opinion."

“You will learn to agree with it soon enough, little one," came the sharp, disgruntled hiss he had been waiting for, then the anger wafting at Tondan slowly subsided to a sizzling pile of amber.

“How is the war developing?" the stag tried again. Getting the dragon to speak about something he despised might get a little more words out of him.

“They are slaughtering each other. The smell of blood and fire is continuing to spread. Not long until it will reach us as well."

“In what frame of time do you mean 'not long'?" Tondan smiled, but the seriousness of the giant lizard was quick to clear all jest from his head. He wasn't speaking about his passage of time; rather theirs. “Oh... I understand."

“If the liar knew, he would resume his attempts to persuade me, but regardless which side, they are all losing from each and every death in this futile battle. All I demand from you and your filthy kind... All I ask from you is to stay hidden and let the war pass like a thunderstorm." The dragon's mind briefly wandered somewhere else, then it returned to their conversation, “the three you have sent to steal from the forest are returning. You are fortunate that they did not encounter an outsider."

“I doubt that the foxes would voluntarily take shelter under your wings, my friend, so we need this material."

“The stable you offered them is enough to survive," the dragon argued begrudgingly, an undercurrent of his disrespect for the others streaming alongside the words, a whole myriad of curses and information that Tondan wished he didn't have to hear.

“But it is not comfortable, Eldyr. You could sleep out on a field as well, exposed to the heaven's moods. Still, you picked a cave for you and your fledglings. We all have our customs."

“It is not our customs to murder individuals far older than yourselves and use their corpses for shelter and fuel for our fire."

Chuckling lightly, Tondan patted the blue flank behind his back, then shook his head, “They are trees, Eldyr. I have never seen one talk. Also, a few less trees in this great forest are the least of our concerns at the moment if I understood the war's progression correctly."

“You did not hear one, because you are too limited to listen, little one," the dragon just growled. His mind was boiling in frustration, so much so that Tondan could even feel the flow of rough and stinging thoughts through the connection.

“In any case," he continued, “You have not yet answered my question of what you are doing here." Sure, he had not expected a real answer, but this time it was not even cryptic.

“I am observing."

Blatantly obvious, rather.

“What are you observing with your eyes closed?"

The dragon knew all too well that Tondan was aware of his abilities to see without light, so the point was clear. Eldyr didn't need to be here. “Your kind's presence is remotely acceptable, and they have to get used to my presence as well," he finally replied, the scales behind Tondan's back growing faintly colder.

“You mean that you like our company?"

“I am merely accepting the animals' existence and wished to meet you again."

“So it is me that you missed."

With a deep growl behind the stag's back, Eldyr's consciousness boiled up, then slowly returned to its soft undulations. “A possibility."

“I like you, too, you stubborn cuddle mountain."

The spot turned ice cold within a blink, colder than even the height of winter, and Tondan had to lean forward with a chuckle not to burn his skin. “I can assume then that you will not help us with our projects?" Tondan prodded once more, only to feel a deep sting down his spine.

“If the animals feel unwelcome through my not assisting them, they may leave on their own, alleviating my concerns without the need to slaughter them. It would not serve my interests to improve their conditions of living, but if they left voluntarily, they could not tell anyone about my presence without admitting heresy and facing the consequences by your kind's laws," Eldyr growled as explanation, before huffing out a cold wind, temporarily freezing the grass under his nostrils.

After another while of silence, the spot behind Tondan finally started heating up again and he leaned back against it, but with the conversation as frozen as the grass, he eventually rose back onto his hooves and patted the dark blue surface behind himself a last time.

The stag sighed, then made the first steps to his home. On the way, he passed the small Elimere, who was staring up at his thoughtful face with a strangely demanding curiosity. He heard her ask something, so he stopped.

“Can I cuddle it, too?"

Tondan paused, looking at her in mild disbelief, then leaned in to pat her head and knelt down in front of her, “You can always ask, but he will reject it, I'm afraid. He probably will not like it, and I don't want him to be angry at you."

“Why? You did it, too." her voice came weakly in pouting defiance.

He chuckled and searched for the right words, but when he took her paw, he suddenly noticed a bandage around it. “What did you do?" he softly frowned as he inspected the cloth, a tinge of blood showing through the fabric.

“I... played with one of the saws... “ she quietly admitted, while he kept inspecting her injury, “it made funny sounds and--ouch!"

Realising he had put too much pressure on the wound, Tondan quickly let go. The pain seemed to subside almost immediately, but suddenly, he heard rustling of scales behind himself. Before he could apologise to Elimere, he felt the dragon breathe down his neck, eyes probably fixed on him in a threatening glare.

“Do that again," Eldyr growled through Tondan's head.

Hesitating, the stag turned around, only to find himself indeed directly in front of the dragon's maw.

“Hurt the bird, little one." He scoffed and pushed back against the unwavering head,

“Why would I hurt-"

is next words were cut off as his mind was pushed to the side and a stream of dragon flooded his body, moving to his hand and clenching down hard on Elimere's paw.

She immediately shrieked and tried to pull back, but Tondan's, or rather Eldyr's, grip was impossible to break, a deep snarl coming from the dragon as well. “What have you done to me, pesky creature!"

It was by far no question the frightened girl could have answered, especially not when the dragon rose and waddled his body over her as well, pinning her under his claws, however wincing in the process.

Causing as much turmoil had already alarmed some of the others, one of them Melerena, who began rushing over to the two, though paused as she spotted her daughter under the dragon. “Let go!" she commanded, but with no authority. There was no such thing in the face of a building-tall lizard.

“You..." Eldyr just continued nonchalantly, “you should not have that..." A deep sniff went over the small fox's form, before a claw cut away the bandage to inspect the injury. “Bipedals, repulsive creatures. Always hungry for power. Your kind in particular!"

“Mother!"

“Eldyr!" Tondan and the girl almost called out at the same time. “Get off her!"

Obviously, Tondan had a similar success as Melerena in calling the beast off. “I should kill you on the spot."

“But what do you accuse her of? What could she possibly have done to you?"

“Inability is no excuse."

“No excuse for what?"

“Mother, I am scared!"

The stag realised only slightly too late that it hadn't been Elimere who had said the last sentence. The mental echo faded like a landslide coming to a halt, and the dragon looked around. It was the first time Tondan had seen him genuinely frightened.

He stumbled a step backwards, shaking is head, then snapped out into the air. Without the slightest hesitation, he let out a deep roar, then beat his head against a boulder nearby. The rock crumbled, Blood shot from the spot where it had dug through his scales, and the young Elimere screamed out, holding onto her temple like it had hit her instead. Her mother pulled her now released body away from the raging beast, which kept beating and beating and beating its head on the ground. Blood splashed all around, but eventually, there was nothing left but rubble, his head merely producing a dull thud against the compressed debris.

“Get out of my head!" he all but yowled, then focussed his ire back towards her; not against her body, however. His green orbs of eyes closed, and Tondan felt the icy flood of the dragon's presence push against his own skull, while the rest probably streamed against Elimere now.

Pest.

Disgusting existence.

Filthy thief.

The dragon would reclaim what was his. There it was, a tiny droplet in the sea of beings. It shimmered so innocently, yet it was tinged with his life. He just had to find his property. Down there; in there.

He felt the constraints of the little creature's head, so he tore the swirling mist out of it. Voices of the bipedals tickled in his ears, at least the one that was not reduced to a crimson crater, but he had a task to do. If it could withstand pain, it had to be dealt with another way.

The tiny fox's body slumped to the ground, only a tiny string connecting it with its mind as he engulfed the slowly fading mist with growing impatience. Piece by piece came off, until the bird's deepest self laid bare and vulnerable before him; the dragon's part to be precise. One could not call stolen property theirs. He could already feel the pull on his mind to reunite every time a touch lingered, and he was about to pull it in, but there was something strange; something he had not noticed before. The way it curled back into the creature's body, the smell, the feeling...

It was not ripped from him, could not be; it was not frayed and broken, rather intentionally shaped to the thing under his claws.

The seams, every detail that made it different--distinctly himself but abnormal all the same. The feeling stung like swords in his when he understood at last.

He knew exactly how it had happened; he just had forgotten. When he had reconstructed her presence from near death, he seemed to have been more distracted than he would allow to admit now. In his haste to stitch her feathers, he had placed them on the life of himself instead.

Sure, most of the bird was from her old life, but the very foundation, the core that bound her to her vessel and stabilised her identity in her body, it was a part of him. It made sense, gave an explanation why he had not noticed it earlier.

Now he had, however, and removing it would kill her, an act both disturbing for the bipedals under his protection and unjust due to his mistake in the first place. With a deep growl, he dropped her mind, watched it seep back into her frail little shell, where it would continue to weaken him.

Another mistake, another erring on his part. The bird laid broken in front of him now, blood gushing from the dragon's head, until he sent his own mind to seal the injury. As parts of his skull cracked back into place, he inspected its small body. Could he truly let this... thing persist?

Was it worth sharing his very identity, the identity of a practical god, with such a minor creature, even for a blink in his lifetime?

It had all happened too fast for anyone to react, but Eldyr seemed to be done with her now.

As the convulsions had ceased, she had been awake for only a moment, before soundly falling asleep. It did by far not calm her mother, but when the dragon lifted his head again, green eyes shining like the morning sun, a quiet set among the people. Their question was obvious, but no one dared to ask it.

What now?

Who would be the next?

It remained unanswered for another while, then the booming voice came over them; careful, kind almost. “I do not," he started, paused, then tried again, “I understand that you are afraid."

Tondan thought that this was all the dragon had to say. It seemed like it, judging by the long pause he made, but eventually, the voice returned, “I cannot express my apology for I do not have one. I do not expect any of you to understand my reasons, but I would prefer it if you did not defile these lands for any longer." Frightened looks were passed, then Eldyr continued, “but you unarguably are. I will henceforth tolerate your existence, but do not strain my patience. It is my realm that you inhabit, my territory, and it is my unbreakable will to defend it against any invader. I will grant you a life here, however. Live it as you prefer for as long you cherish my present, keep it, and tend to it. That is all I ask. Mother of the bird, Melerena..." the words trailed off while the older fox winced and held her daughter tighter, muttering incoherently as the dragon made contact.

Next, he turned to Keliara, chasing the crowd away around her, while they kept their tense silence. Just the heifer shifted uncomfortably. The conversation continued only for a moment, then the dragon retreated again and turned to leave.

“What happened, Eldyr?" Tondan called after him, but named one just nudged the stag softly with his head and rose into the air. Gusts of wind tore through their clothes and gripped at their hearts, but the silence that followed clung to them even harder.

It was on Aseran to finally break it, “That's it. Melerena, we will not stay here." He sounded more determined than ever before as he approached her. Suddenly though, he stopped, keeping some distance to his daughter and wife, considering whether to risk stepping closer. The vixen didn't even look at him, just stared at the bundle in her arms.

“Take Elimere and we will leave this place behind for good. All of you should do the same! All of-"

At the end, the fox had started addressing the entire crowd, however stopped as he felt the paw of his wife at his shoulder. With a rasping voice she whispered something no one but her husband could understand, and under the eyes of the frightened villagers he sat down next to her.

The first voices demanding an explanation were soon to rise, but the couple just sat there, lost in a hushed conversation. After a while, Aseran only rose onto his hind paws, shook his head, then walked off without a further word, tail drooping. Just Melerena remained, her arms still wrapped around her daughter. Hesitating, Tondan knelt down in front of the two, nevertheless was not paid particular attention. Regardless of their feud of sorts, he felt strangely responsible for what had happened, had it been his paws that had harmed Elimere as well.

“What did he say?" he asked. A tear pricked at the corner of her eye, then another.

“My daughter will die. The moment we leave this forsaken place, she will die! This supposed friend of yours will take her life!" Within a blink, the vixen's body shook bitterly while a flood ran down her cheeks, “this is all your fault! You and your... your promises. I-I can't believe I still love her. My daughter, my... isn't she? It is her, isn't it?"

As Tondan found no words to respond, not even understanding what her turmoil was about, Melerena stood up as well, kissed her daughter, then went after her husband, the small fox still calm and happy in her arms.

The next days passed in silence. Their encounter with Eldyr had left everyone too shaken to even care for the first frost that clung to the stubbles out on the field in the mornings. It was hard to describe.

All knew what they thought, but each time words tried to form, they were extinguished in the fear of coming to the conclusion they had long come to. No one would leave, definitely not before winter, not afterwards, maybe never. No one knew what had happened that day, but if the foxes stayed, so would the rest. Not even Keliara would talk about what the dragon had said to her.

Just at the break of the third day, she announced that she would visit Eldyr, took her bundle, and left for the mountains. It wasn't possible for anyone to climb up there, so once she was far enough from the village, the dragon descend from his mountain, picking her up, then returning back to the entrance hidden from plain sight. With a scoff, Tondan looked at them disappear, but could not be bothered to spend any more thought on them. He had his own duties, and even friends did not need to know everything about each other.

Or so the rational part of the stag told him.

“You decided to come, tiny morsel," the dragon hummed as Keliara felt him open his grip again after they had landed. “I did," she said but felt nothing besides his nonchalant presence against her. “And you are determined to continue your path?"

“I am." Another nod from her. Then silence. After a while, Eldyr nodded his head as well, turned around to face her, and placed his head a tail length from the cow.

“Would you sit down with me, tiny morsel?" he commanded more than he asked. Nevertheless, Keliara complied and dropped onto the hard, stone floor.

“Your young aren't here, are they?"

“No. I have asked them to leave us for this. Calm your breath, look at me, then demonstrate what you remember from our previous lessons." The massive mind pushed up against hers, forcing his way inside, filling her with the force she had not quite grown comfortable with. However, with practised focus, she willed forth herself, looked him in the eyes, then reached for a small rock besides his head. Her fingers involuntarily twitched in her lap when she extended the borrowed magic to it, then pushed the small object in her direction. The stone trembled at first, then a little more, and finally gave it, darting towards her and stopping just a hoof in front of her crossed legs. “Good. Repeat how you have done that."

“I..." she thought, trying to remember what Eldyr had told her a season ago, then finally the words returned, “I felt the stone, located its subnatural existence, then took it."

“And how could you have done that? It was far out of your arm's reach?"

“I used your magic instead of my body. Eldyr... why are we doing this? I know all of that already."

“Patience, tiny morsel," Eldyr hummed through her head. He wafted warm air over her, then continued, “but you do deserve to know why you are here, after all. So far, you have only used what I gave. This will not change today, but I realised that you need to know why it is possible for you to receive it."

“I assume that it is not as easy as that you simply give it to me."

“No, it is not. Do not hallucinate without any reason to believe that it will result in truth."

Keliara giggled at his stern reaction, but straightened her posture again and continued to stare at him, “Why am I able to receive it then?"

“You, your mate, and the little one," Eldyr responded and washed a little closer to her presence, “are one of the few who ever felt the ungraspable touch of anther of your kind. You should also know that this is far more than would be possible by anything your minuscule mind has experienced so far."

“I am currently talking to a beast many hundred years old and as many times as stubborn. I think that my imagination can follow, Eldyr," she joked once more, only to be harshly interrupted by a deep growl from the dark mountain in front of her.

“If you were more perceptive, tiny morsel, you would have noticed that it is not my kind and nature that allows for this. Look at me, tiny morsel, what do you see?"

She deemed the question a crude joke at first, then felt his anger and tried to answer it anyway, ´“I see your scales, your eyes and your fangs. If I were to reach deeper, I would find your bones, organs and muscles."

“And you think that this is me?"

“It is," she stated rather determined, felt his disapproval very soon, though.

“My body does not reach into your presence. It does not talk to you, nor does it make decisions. It is the mind, the soul, that does this. If you removed it, there would remain nothing. So no, you could not err farther from the truth than to assume that this is me." With a short shift of his wings, the dragon flung about a few stones, before settling them back against his sides. “What I am is the feeling you have upon my touch, the storm you feel even in a cave. It can mingle with you, touch you, but it will not be you regardless of how long it stayed. Would you agree?"

“Of course. You are nothing but yourself."

“But why? I granted you memories before, I granted you knowledge; what is the difference to an identity?" Unable to answer the question, Keliara could do little but look up at the dragon.

“It is the life itself, tiny morsel," he eventually grumbled and tugged a little at something deep in her mind. It felt strangely similar to someone pulling on every strip of her fur at the same time, but she tried to stay focussed.

“What is this supposed to mean, Eldyr?"

He huffed out in a sudden frustration and moved closer to her consciousness again. “It means that inside of every being alive there is a core, something that is tied to them for eternity. When their body perishes, so does their life. I can tear you apart, deprive you of your memories, give you the ones of another, replace your shell, but at the core there is a something 'you' are." While he talked, fragments of ideas shot into her head, far too alien for her to fathom or shape into words. But for some reason, she understood, saw it even, the small wick of an eternal candle, carrying the flame of a being but never being consumed itself. “The reason I teach you this," Eldyr continued before she could even ask, “is that you need to understand what I did to the bird. The little one knows but does not understand."

“And you think that I am more capable than him?"

“No, it is rather that you possess the ability to feel it. You only have the advantage of age over the little one. Your intellect does not exceed what I expect of him at the time he has caught up. It is inferior to that, in fact, if both of you received the same training. Do not dwell on it, however, for it does not aid the current moment."

This elicited forth a scoff from her, but Keliara spared him the response, feeling him hum happily instead.

Eldyr's eyes flickered open, then he closed them again. “Look into me, tiny morsel. Open your eyes and see what I mean," he growled while pushing closer again, his grasp flowing heavily against her. Her sight of the deep blue dragon shifted, twisted, until a moment stretched beyond perception and the giant body dissolved. From one moment to the next, blue mist exploded over the stone clearing, swallowing her and all light in its ebony breath. “Look at me, tiny morsel. Do not fear the sight."

In this strange darkness, his voice was nothing but a whisper, an almighty echo cutting through the night. Keliara hadn't realised that she had averted her gaze, possibly from the approaching wave of... whatever it had been. She hesitated, though. Why would she fear him? Why... For a brief moment, her gaze went down where she expected her body to be, but all she saw was a faint shimmer where her hands would have normally laid in her lap. A strange, emerald rope was wrapped around her from her torso up, but she did not pay particular attention to it until the deep voice boomed at her again.

“Not yourself. Me, little creature." Her eyes shot up, driven by a force, not her will, but what she found when they followed the ribbon around her chest took her breath.

The dragon was still where she had expected him to be, looming in front of her, but he wasn't the one she knew. Green mist swirled where his form would be, the connection between them naturally disappearing somewhere in... this. Long strings of light flowed along his body, but the rest was merely wafting in approximately the correct position.

The head seemed to be the beating heart of the mist, but besides a searingly bright spot, there were no features. For the briefest of moments, his head formed in the elusive matter when he noticed her thoughts, then it dissolved back into the stream. She soon had to tear her gaze off him and look back at the floor for it would have either burnt her eyes or turned her stomach. The floor was not even visible, if she were honest, it was merely the knowledge that she was currently sitting on something that shaped her own translucent body. “Do you see, tiny morsel?"

“No... no I don't. Where are we?"

The dragon chuckled but answered her softly, “On a stone ledge in front of my cave."

“This is... not your cave."

“Oh, it is; just not from the perspective you are used to see. Come over, touch me." Keliara swallowed heavily upon his command, but when she tried to stand up, a wave of green shot against her and pressed her back onto the ground.

“Not with your body, tiny morsel. Reach out. Try to move me like you moved the pebble earlier. Our link will guide you. You will not get lost, no matter where you wander."

It was easier said than done, she had to soon realise, but for the briefest of moments, just when she imagined stretching out her hand and touching the dragon, her view shifted forwards. But before even the wave of nausea could hit her, she gasped and snapped back, still Eldyr wouldn't budge, urging her to try it again.

“Do not let your fright guide you. Come here."

Having a hard time shaking off her hesitation, she huffed out and obeyed. Once more, her will flushed forth. It flowed along the line protruding from her chest, shivering and wincing every step of the way. She felt like she wouldn't make it, but when she was almost there, the green extended to her and pulled her in.

Within a heartbeat, sensations filled her; screaming, laughing, smells, and knowledge brushing along her, quickly followed by a deep silence.

“Good, tiny morsel. Breathe again, or your shell will suffocate."

What did he mean? Of course, she breathed. Of course... then she felt it, the sting in her throat, the need to... not her throat. The kneeling figure's throat. “I can't," she had to admit after a while of trying while the sensation increased, every part of her hurting while she felt the cold stone against her side now.

“You can, tiny morsel. Let it breathe; will it to do so."

“I... can't... I" A storm of leafs passed her, swished past her bodiless form, and finally, the first breath entered her lungs again.

“I hope that you learned something, tiny morsel," the dragon sounded again, this time feeling as if he was sitting in her left ear while the sun of his presence gently strode past her face. “And now... I want you to find the pebble you guided not long ago. It is the last task for you today."

“I-it is not there, Eldyr. Nothing is."

“Just because you cannot see it, it does not mean that it is not there. Feel my scales, then search for the pebble. It is simple."

“No, Eldyr, let me go."

“You can go at any time, tiny morsel. I am not the one holding you here."

With increasing effort, she tried again, imagined her body, thought how she had come here, but she would not move; trapped and drowned in a green lake. “I... Elyr, I want this to end."

“Then it will end. Do not think where you are, be where you want to be. And suddenly, you are inside of your body, aren't you?"

“N-no, you hold me here in-"

“You are in your own body, tiny morsel. Where else would you be? Do you think that I would lie to you?"

“I don't know, it doesn't make any... sense, I..."

“Then you surely must be where you desire to be."

A single tear welled up from deep inside of her, running down her cheek and she blinked her eyes. “No... I..." Keliara blinked again, staring down at her furred hands once more, “I... yes."

“As I told you." As she looked up at him now, the dragon stared down at her with an almost but not quite gentle smile.

She realised that she laid on her side, her wet face pushed against the ground, but a gentle claw already reached out to guide her back upright. If there wasn't this painful sting in her throat, she would have almost believed that it was a dream. “Where... was that?" she asked, her voice raspy and strained.

“It was the world that your kind usually does not see. Whatever you believed to see was nothing but your limited mind's trying to make sense of it all."

“You... were green."

“I do taste like the green you perceive, yes, tiny morsel. You taste of orange, but that does not mean that you are of a certain colour." His warm breath soon streamed over her fur, ruffled up the texture, then he retreated back into the depth of his own head again. Just a tiny bit of him stayed with her; enough to talk but too little to feel him. “You need to think for a while about that, tiny morsel. Just know that you will, similar to your other abilities, not be able to repeat this experience without my guidance. Unless your abilities awake on their own."

“Why did you show me then?"

“Because you need to understand what you are and what you do. If your own strength ever woke from its slumber, you would see what I showed you, be overwhelmed and frightened by it. It is dangerous, tiny morsel, for you and for others. I will leave you to it now, but I hope that you are able to fathom what I did to the bird in my inattention when binding her to myself. Take care of it from now on, ensure its well-being and... will you ask the little one to do the same in my stead as well. He would not listen to me."

“Have you asked him? Because I am afraid that you have a wrong image of him."

“I have not done so, no, but I know him. I know the little one's airs and problems, like I do those of you."

Silence set among them as the dragon pulled back, leaving her... not with questions, no. In a strange way, she understood, a dream she never had asked to dream, but here she was, mind swirling with the images of what could neither be seen nor touched but governed... something.

It had been there, the thought. Just a moment ago, she could have spelled it out, but now there was only void. Eldyr seemed to notice her frustration and blew her a waft of searing heat, before he walked past her and offered a paw to climb onto, yet she refused. “I have not come up here just for your explanation, Eldyr. You offered to continue my studies into magic, and I pick you up on that offer, no, I demand it," she stated to his amusement, but the lizard just hummed and curled himself around her. “What is this supposed to mean?"

“We have continued your studies far beyond what I would have taught you if the events had taken a different route. But if you wish to continue even though your soul is bleeding my knowledge already, so shall it be." His eyes blinked, then took their usual, eerily green glow when he repositioned to fulfil her wish. His scales scratched uncomfortably against the floor as he shifted on the rock. “You wish to learn how to heal the flesh, do you not, tiny morsel?" he asked with a strange glint in his touch, “What injury do you wish to heal, though? Do you possess one?" He growled softly, letting his mind wash through her body and look for a potential illness, but as he failed to find one, he focussed back on her thoughts.

“I... I wanted to learn it in case I would need it one day when you weren't present."

“A day that you might never experience."

“Nevertheless, I want to be able to help the ones I love," Keliara replied as Eldyr pressed closer and filled her with his might, “Can't you simply teach me how to do it without a practical example? There is no need for an injury."

“Where would be the point in that?" Eldyr chuckled, and the moment she felt the small spike in his mind, it was already too late.

His claw flicked upwards, and if he had just missed his target by the slightest bit, he would have severed her right hand instead of just slashing into the palm. It was no deep cut, and she hated herself for not having seen it coming, but now she had something to practice on, as the dragon noted with a partly jolly, partly understanding smirk. Her shocked yelp came far later than the realisation that she was hurt. “What are you waiting for, tiny morsel?"

Only when the sun had almost completed its path to its fall did the dragon finally end their training.

Her mediocre craft had mostly closed the angry line in her hand, and although he could clearly see her glaring mistakes, he nudged her gently and began to untangle the mess of ill-connected flesh she had produced. She felt his appreciation for the attempt but didn't respond, least of which when he had finished welding the flesh and her palm was back to the state it had been before their training. Not even her inefficient voice was capable of more than a tired sigh when the cracks of discomfort vanished from her mind.

She let herself be picked up without resistance, and finally, the dragon beat his wings to carry her back to her wooden cave. There was no accusation in her at the moment, but no gratitude, either. A thought of comfort spilled through their flimsy connection, but she let it drip off herself, so he did not pry any further. The morsel was an interesting creature, a trait only few of her kind shared.

As the first waves of his wing beats hit the puny little huts the things called their homes, he noticed that they had made about as much progress on their newest abomination as he had made with his students: a disappointment in every regard. Winter would soon bite their fur, and the lizard could already hear the first snow in the clouds. Like the little one had said: it was urgent. As he set to a landing, however, something else caught his attention besides their inadequacy.

The liar stood a little outside their tiny collection of obstacles, seeming to patiently wait for him to arrive, but Eldyr could already feel his restlessness emanating from the minuscule body. In a way, it was like a foul smell, and it was a pity he couldn't smell it himself. “Will you get to your home safe, tiny morsel?" he hummed as he set to a landing, kindly ignoring the rat having to duck away under his folding wings.

“I... think I will." Not convinced by her mutter, he still let her slip out of his grasp and onto the grassy dirt, already feeling the other thing move up to him.

He noticed the words that pushed against his ears as he softly helped his student stand and make the first steps towards her shelter, so he finally turned his attention to the other as well. “What is it, liar?"

“I come with a plea and beg for you to listen. Tondan informed me of the war progressing."

“A mistake I will make him remember," Eldyr grumbled, but the rat continued uninterrupted. “and so I urge you to reconsider your decision. You told him about the front line having almost reached this place?"

“It is three days of travel from here; under the ridiculous assumption that they did not spend as much time on slaughtering their own kind."

“They are breaching further into my king's lands! Dragon, how can you not intervene? If you were to stop them, merely graced us with your presence, he would be able to put this valley under his protection. Do it not for the power of my king but the peace of your own home. You could end this battle!"

Having seen this line of meaningless thoughts coming, he only turned his back to the creature and set to fly. “We live in peace. Winter will keep them from this place until the next green, and if they doubted the autonomy of this respite, my fire would teach them to keep their distance."

Unfolding his wings, he paused to clarify something, “Both armies. I will not let my realm fall under the control of any mortal stain, neither yours nor your enemy's."

“Are you afraid, oh mighty Eldyr?"

The rat's bitter comment followed his words like a blade that dug through his scales. From one moment to the other, his head hovered over the audacious thing, but not even a flame dripping from his maw could break the liar's resistance, making it ever harder for the dragon to keep his oath to his mate. “What do you accuse me of? That I feared battle? That I feared the bite of your spears, the sting of your machines?"

“Y-yes. I do exactly that. I know that this valley is not sufficient for you. You can barely fly from one end to the other. You could make the world your own, yet you don't. Why? By the love of the ancient gods, why don't you long for more?"

Gone was the desire to convince him, replaced by sheer hate born from past despair. “You will not lose what you hold dear, little liar, for there is nothing that fits this description. Do not waste my time with your self-pity. I am not the cause of your pathetic nature."

“Do not evade! In all the time I had the pleasure of living here, I saw nothing but a scared creature. Answer my question!"

He wanted to bite down, turn this lump of fur and flesh into his meal, not for its negligible nutritious value but simply to make it shut up. Memories of the amusement he had once found in the taste of blood and steel felt drawn in by his anger and ravaged his core, but he could not give in. Not to this fool.

“See? You can't even hurt me without remorse. What kind of ancient creature are you? I used to tremble under the stories of dragons like you. Here, however, I learned a different side of your kind, a kindness, even fright I would never have assumed possible. Will you prove me wrong once again? For the sake of your own peace?"

“You do not know what you ask for."

“No, I don't. Teach me, dragon. Teach me what makes you flinch in the sight of battle?"

Mighty fangs barely missed the stubby ears on the thing's delicious head when his jaws snapped shut. “You have never killed before, have you? ... You do not live with that burden. Do not answer what is clearly written on you. That assassin a few winters ago was nothing, a hatchling with a knife. It was not your rage that nearly took her life. And even then, you stopped yourself. You, liar, know nothing about the fascinating complexity that your existence is." The dragon growled once again, slowly lifting his muzzle away from the liar. “I suggest you to leave. Run into battle with your beloved king, spread the tale of monstrous dragons, and when you have proven yourself, return to me and present your prey. Then, only then, I will consider to join your cause, but until you have explored the heat of blood, I deprive you of the privilege to address me."

A hard shove with his snout sent the rat to the dirt, then he turned around and let the wind obey his command to lift him high up to the sky. Its invisible body bent, twisted and raged but it had no hope for a victory. The rat obviously remained, furious but silent, watching him flee this battle. He had indeed fled; there was no denial.

The thing would understand, though. In time.

Winter came as it always did, the ground soon turning white as a thick blanket swallowed all of their settlement. The family's house had only been finished just in time to catch the frosty embrace, all while a cosy fire fended off the cold from getting too close to the six.

If they all were at home, that is.

During the recent week, it had mostly been four. The twins spent most of the time shivering in the snow, keeping themselves busy running around with the others, and by now, visible paths connected not only the buildings but also the riverbed. The ice had yet to infest the water, and despite none of them daring to enter it--probably for their own good--they found it as interesting as ever regardless of its temperature.

One night, Tondan glanced out of the windows of Semon's house and saw the whitened bunch return home, fondly remembering his own time when his father had not been able to keep him inside. He could barely count the times he had returned freezing and with a new collection of branches securely stuck in his fur.

“What is on your mind, my friend?" Keliara asked as she approached him from behind, “what is out there?"

“Nothing," he sighed and placed his hand on her shoulder, the heifer grinning knowingly back at him. Tondan briefly saw the green and golden ring she wore from her wedding day on, the dragon's present for a culture he barely understood, even less valued. His eyes soon flicked up to her face again, this time wearing a little of a worried smile.

“It must surely be a dangerous nothing if it can cause you discomfort at such a marvellous night, Tondan."

“As I said, nothing but memories."

“You didn't speak of memories before, though." He laughed at her snippy comment, then closed the shutter in front of the glassless openings.

“You are right, I didn't. Maybe... I just wish this winter to pass and let spring return. The silence is unbearable."

Her gaze softened as she stepped back from him and further towards the fire Semon kept dutifully stoked, “Winter has only begun, yet you speak like an old hag at snowmelt. But let's not dwell on such topics and fill the silence with a good story instead, shall we? Maybe one of your memories will help alleviate the feeling."

“I don't think that they would be interesting enough to entertain you two as well," Tondan replied sorrowly, but stepped closer to the couple, taking a seat at the opposite side of the fire, “At the very least, they are not as frightening as the stories Eldyr had to keep us company with in the first winter here."

That got a good laugh from the other two, and they relished in the crackling of wood for a while, before Semon spoke up, “and they would not include me being slaughtered at every turn of events." The horse snorted drily, getting a short hug from his wife.

“But this winter, we don't rely on that disgruntled bag of scales," Tondan replied.

“Indeed, we don't."

The dragon hummed in his sleep.

It was a melody devoid of any rhythm or harmony, but its qualities rather laid in how the different frequencies tickled different parts of his body. Even every of his young all had their own, unique note. Shift a little lower and the pebble would roll in her sleep, a little higher, and the brothers would chortle against his gums.

The two leaves indeed had a similar affinity, but since they had hatched, they had drifted slightly apart, not quite the same as they once were. Only the lily refused to rest in his maw. Half-asleep, she rolled back and forth against his side, kicking and scrambling about every time her position was suboptimal again, whatever that meant for her. His melody could not reach her like this, and every careful attempt at dragging her into his mind was fiercely evaded.

She had not taken it lightly, it seemed, that they had been forbidden to visit the bipedals for a while. Too great was the risk of one of these creatures acting on instinct. Worse still, there was a feeling he could not quite describe; a hunger of sorts, but none that could be sated by his attention.

With a deep grumble that disturbed her siblings, Eldyr slowly opened his eyes and hesitantly looked under his wing where his daughter laid. Her blue scales seemed to shine even more through winter's haze, but the moment that she noticed his gaze on her, she snarled slightly and turned her back on him, still wedged between his warm body and the floor, yet refusing to show him anything but an annoyed flick of her tail. Wherever she had learnt these antics from...

Once again, he tried to make mental contact, but only found a fragile wall around her self. Yolk hiding in its shell--while a pitchfork demanded it's attention. Nuzzling over her, he bathed her in a warm stream of air for a while, then turned his head towards the cave's entrance again and closed the wing over the stubborn fledgling. If she did not want his care, she would not receive it, as ridiculous as her protest was.

If she would refuse him entry tomorrow as well, however, he would simply refuse her his warmth in return. A fair trade in his opinion. Satisfied with an appropriate solution, he closed his eyes once more and resumed his grumbling song where he had left off, watching the colourful swirl of his young's spirits dance to it, even though subconsciously.

Only when the first rays of sun broke through his entrance, he slowly let the melody fade and opened his maw to let his young out. It had been a few days since they had been outside, and he had to realise that they faired a lot worse than him as a hatchling when dealing with winter's claws. But for now, despite his offer, all he heard was their soft chortles and small whines as their limbs refused to support them. Only with the aid of his tongue, the first made it over his teeth, landing on the hard ground with a dull thud. Green scales scraped over rock, then golden eyes blinked up at him, until he chuckled lightly and extended a claw to lift the young up, letting part of his might stream into his body. The small figure shivered, but finally rose on his paws and waddled towards the exit.

Similar went with his brother and the pebble. Just when he rose as well did he remember that there was someone left. Looking between his legs, he spotted the blue one, tiredly blinking up at him, then starting to move as well. Her steps were reluctant, almost as if following him outside would be an admission of her surrender, but on the other hand, she could hardly stay on her own.

Winter was not meant for dragons her age and could be as deadly as a sword to the neck if her supply of warmth left for too long. Well, 'her age' was a difficult concept. If one was to count the century she was very much alive and active when had he found--and almost killed--them, she would have sufficient age of claiming her own lair. Her size pitifully spoke against that, however. It was... difficult, even for him. Eventually, she had arrived between his forepaws, and the little family could venture out into the world.

Slowly, then green one tasted the air; cold, fresh. His father felt the fledgling's mind briefly flick out to touch the mysterious surface, and slowly, a paw was placed outside; still cold.

Then a black bolt shot past them. The pebble shrieked in bliss as she jumped right forth--and yelped in shock when she sunk in. Ice cold, in fact, she had to realise, her delicate body cutting right through the snow, until a shivering, whining chunk of scales stood in a cater of melting water her onslaught had left.

With a low rumble, the big dragon extended his head to latch onto her neck and lift her out of the small, icy puddle. It was not like he had not shared the sensation of snow with them before, so he nudged the other three towards the white mess as well, urging them to experience it for themselves, but they skittered back between his legs. Apparently, they were smart enough not to repeat their sister's mistake. It also didn't help that his saliva still clung to everyone's except the pouting lily's scales and further drained away their warmth.

Grinning softly, he breathed them back on temperature, then took a step outside. Sometimes, he just had to lead by example. Similar to his daughter, his paw melted through the white at first, but after a while of adjustment, it slowed as it gradually lost its heat. Having redirected his blood flow, his scales finally had cooled down enough for him to safely touch the fluffy ice.

Another soft rumble rolled down his throat as he felt the four push against his mind to investigate what he did there, and he only felt slight accusation in their probing presences for betraying them so utterly. Even the lily seemed to have caught interest by now, at least reluctantly. He simply acknowledged it and slowly pulled them towards the necessary part of him, making sure to add the consequences of what would happen if they were not careful.

Cutting off a limb entirely would have its own set of issues, after all, not to mention that the heart would be a particularly unpleasant choice.

It took a moment for the first to try it, his warnings possibly a bit too convincing, but after a while of just watching him prance over the plateau, at least the lily seemed to have caught interest again. Her sister followed, carefully stepping out of the cave's protection, but her paw was too warm and she pulled it away again, snarling lightly. With his eyes happily focussed on the two, Eldyr laid down, sending his encouragement, and swished his tail through the white.

Adorably nervous. The blue young's other paws took a moment to get adjusted as well, but after just a moment of waiting, the lily was to first to stand; proudly having claimed the first pile of snow and looking over to her father. He nodded and she roared out her triumph, clearly spurring the rest of her siblings on.

The fledglings' first snow. Nothing particularly fascinating about it, but maybe his frequent contact to the bipedals had weakened him, made him emotional, until he couldn't keep himself from being simply... happy in this moment. Just watching the four take their steps, then short leaps in this foreign yet familiar world.

The fledglings' adventure went on for almost the rest of the day. The dragon had retreated back into the cave, but his young still had their fun, give or take the occasional reheating at their father.

Just when the sun was leaning towards the other end of the sky, he noticed a shift in the lily's behaviour. She had played all day, happy once more, but in the end, the longing from this morning had returned. This time, she at least kept the contact. With drooping tail, she approached him. The dragon could have easily extracted what bothered her, investigated the traces of thoughts that ran down her form, but he was patient.

Finally, he felt her push forward a thought, a plain desire, albeit a hesitant one.

It reeked bipedal. The morsel... partly.

Another part was the little one.

The morsel's mate was not included, but he could understand that notion of hers.

He replied that they would soon visit again, but she brushed his response away, and exposed that thought again, more insistently, the low chord of ultimateness rolling through her mind. He knew very well that she felt his sense of family right now. They were one, they were perfect in their own unique way, so why would she want to spend her time in inadequacy, but she willed her mind back from him, lest it would dissolve in the stream.

Then, however... something different came.

Memories of speech, sounds that were...

not dragon.

Not his.

He sure had encouraged them to learn their language, taught them the minimum to understand bipedal, incoherent muttering, but never had one of them had the audacity...

She spotted his anger even before the first sparks of lightning surged through the connection, the ring of her intentions having risen far before the intention had come.

The fledgling returned to thoughts, proper speech, but the damage was done.

“I there live. Want." It echoed from her mind, even after she already scrambled away from her father and towards the cave exit.

To say that he was furious was an understatement. Heat burnt from his soul and he could barely keep himself from letting it out; at which point the layer of snow would not have been an issue anymore. With slow, deliberate steps, he walked after the running fledgling, being far faster than her anyway. She could not escape his ire, could not seek shelter behind her siblings.

And when she had nowhere to run, his jaws snapped down.

In the rotation of seasons, spring was the next to come, and so it did.

Day by day, more water streamed from everywhere into the cauldron as the snow melted and bathed the valley in a black-brown swirl of old ashes and those plants that had not made it through winter. Their houses, thankfully, withstood the flood and only needed minor repairs where the study wood had been scoured. It just was a pity that the higher pleasantries of life were painfully missing in this place.

Back in their former home, fresh crocuses and other vegetation would have pierced the last snow and presented a less grim picture, but the valley's young life had not yet managed to produce them. It would come with time, although this time wasn't now.

What also came on its own was work. The fields needed to be ploughed and prepared for the first sowing of the new year. The celebration of Uska's awakening would fall short once again after they had already neglected it in the last winter. Usually, it meant emptying the stock of what their stomachs had left and burning a week of food to thank the goddess for their continued lives, but with the little remainders they had, there was not enough to afford this luxury. She had to stay hungry this year again, and not a good portion of them thought that she had deserved it.

The following day, when the last snow had finally left their roofs and only painted the rocky mountain tops to leave the coming summer some of its astonishing sight, Keliara left the house; only to bump right into one of their newer neighbours. The boar with the name of Heldron stood barely up to her chest, carrying a large bundle, but had a good-hearted smile and didn't seem to mind the accident, as he quickly adjusted his grip on the cloth-wrapped something.

“Good morning, Keliara. What a pleasant surprise to see you," he greeted, then headed on to the fields but didn't turn for the tools. Instead, he stumbled his way over to a log nearby and sat down, seemingly to watch the others work as he unfolded his package.

Her curiosity piqued, Keliara came closer. The boar slightly turned his head but didn't even look while continuing to unfold his equipment: one of the short knifes that Semon had once brought from his trips and which had gone missing a while back, and a small pile of sticks.

“I will help them later on," he explained almost apologetically, then turned his gaze back to the wood in his lap, “but I want to finish this first."

“What are you working on?" she asked instead of the scolding he likely expected. It did indeed surprise the boar, who turned his head back to her in a slight disbelief she couldn't quite understand. As far as she could remember, she had never been strict or commanding towards any of their neighbours.

“A game," he smiled weakly, still seeming to expect her to protest, “Scal pieces, to be precise. I used to have some back home despite never really playing, and as I have only started in the last days, they are not finished, yet."

Scal. It had been a while since Keliara had heard of this game, even less played it. Her father used to teach her in the hopes of making her a player decent enough to impress a potential husband. But after a while, she had surpassed him; and he had never allowed her getting close to a board again, lest she would embarrass him or whomever he would give her hand to.

It was fairly simple. Two players positioned their pieces on opposite sides of the board, the latter consisting of alternating black and brown squares. Each player started with two rows of five pieces each on their side and could move them one or two squares per turn. If one piece was caught between two of the enemy's in either direction, it was removed from the playing field. The winner was the one who first managed to remove all but two of the other's.

While it could be played even with lines in the dirt and mere stones--something she had done from time to time to avoid her father's restrictions--a proper, complete set belonged into every house that valued their culture, and it was played repeatedly during family meetings to boast the very same.

Looking at the progress so far, the boar seemed to be skilled at what he was doing. The classical shape of brave knights started materialising in the rough pine surface on the first pile, but the other side was not the common design. Instead of the feathery appearance of the sky-born armies, a crude set of dragons roared and hissed from the end of the sticks. “Don't let Eldyr see that," Keliara chuckled to the blushing boar as he realised where she was looking, “but I like them. Would you mind to teach me how to do that?"

“I... yes, I mean, no, I do not. Of course. Do you have a knife?"

“You hold the very example I used to own, but I will get myself another." He just nodded jauntily and focussed back on his work while she left for her home.

As she went to get the tool, however, she couldn't quite shake off that strange excitement that had taken hold of her. It wasn't the realisation that she would get to play Scal again, no, this was different. The community they had left behind had long lost the allure it used to have, but still... it had that unexplainable thrill to it.

Upon her return, the boar was no longer alone on his seat. Hedrik had already taken the space next to him and watched quietly as the boar kept chipping away at his latest creation. When she finally dropped on the other side, the stoat raised his voice.

“It is fascinating, isn't it? I was never considered a formidable player, and I thought that I was glad to be done with it for good when I left the luxury of the castle. Now... I can't keep but wonder how far I would make it if I started practising. Even in this unlike environment."

For a moment, for just the briefest of moments, she genuinely considered playing with him, then the thought vanished back into the realisation that he still was the enemy, even though the loyalty to his kingdom had admittedly been wavering lately. “Oh, us simple folk are sorry to disappoint your royalty," Keliara smiled but felt a slight pang of guilt when she saw his eyes dart to her.

“I didn't mean it as an offence, Keliara. Of course I didn't mean to imply that you lacked culture, nor did I mean to play down your intelligence."

“Of course you didn't," the heifer scoffed and took out her replacement knife, “I will try not to hold it against you. Now. Heldron, how do we approach this?"

“Have you worked with wood before?"

“No, I haven't, but I had assumed that is exactly why I ask."

“I... could have thought about that myself, yes," the boar laughed but reached down to his pile of sticks and plucked out one with enough girth to hold a figure. Extending it to her, he looked over it for a last time, then at her with an expectant gaze. “Well, what do you think about it?"

Keliara hesitated, looked at it, then back at him. It felt like a trap, but neither her instructor nor Hedrik let her in on their thoughts. If there was something off, the stoat would have probably noticed it by now, being almost as observant as Eldyr at times, but he was similarly hard to read as well. “It is a stick," she finally concluded diplomatically, hitting almost but not quite the effect she wanted.

“It is, indeed. But would it make for a good piece?" Heldron grinned, seeming strangely happy to be the selfish keeper of wisdom.

“I... don't know," she had to admit, while the stoat was barely able to hide his amused snort. “Do you wish to share your insight with the riff-raff such as myself, Hedrik?"

“Oh, dear Keliara, it pains my heart to see you so mistrustful. It is merely your conversation that I find highly amusing. I am as clueless as yourself."

“That is not very helpful, is it?"

“I never claimed to to be," he noted mischievously, then rose on his paws, though, “I would love to continue this conversation, but I'm afraid I cannot avoid helping to plough this field, assuming that I don't attempt to disappoint my fellows. I wish you two fruitful work." And with that, the stoat turned around and steered for the spread-out people on the wide acre.

Keliara could only wonder about his motivations at this point. He might be harmless, but one could never know. On the other hand, they had a giant dragon keeping a watch over them, meaning that even if he made a wrong decision, Eldyr could prevent the worst.

“He has changed," Heldron suddenly shook her out of her thoughts, having picked up his stick again. “Do you think so?"

“I do believe so, yes. I think that you judge him too harshly."

Keliara scoffed out, but took her still shapeless piece and knife as well, looking expectantly at her instructor.

“It's a decent material. Not the best, but there is worse," the latter clarified, then chipped away another part of his piece, “Especially the cold has left its marks on him. You were not over in the barn very often--which I can very much understand, mind you--but most of his time, he spent thinking in his bed. Don't mistake my confidence for trust; I continue to question every of his words, but I don't think that he is the same person who spent almost five winters with our village, pretending to be a humble soul."

The boar's hands made good progress on his creation, all while he quietly showed her how to angle the knife to achieve the cut she wanted. “The difference," he finally said, “between a bad piece and a good piece doesn't lie in its material. Even less the creator's skill. It is the ability to craft something unique that you can be proud of." He smiled for a moment, apparently very proud himself to have produced such wisdom two times in a row, “which should not mean that your creation is lacking skill, before you assume that."

Keliara could only frown at this comment, “Of course not." A frustrated chop went down on the stick, and the attempt at a warrior lost the decoration on his helmet she had meant to leave and refine later, “Are you certain of it?" She showed him the glaring mistake, but her frown was simply ignored.

“I am. Now, this noble knight simply decided to wear a less decorative and more practical armour." Keliara gave him a tired smile, but in a way, he was right. Focussing back on her piece, she went on, starting once again to chip away at the soft material, and indeed, it slowly took shape; not the one she had wanted it to be, but it was close enough to identify it.

When she was done, the sun had already risen considerably on it's path over Trakendes' dome, and she was about to give a comment on how time consuming this craft seemed to be, but a glance over to Heldron quickly stopped her in her tracks: three new figures majestically stood next to him, and a fourth was nearing its completion under his watchful gaze.

“Wonderful," he happily commented her piece, looking briefly up, then returning to his stick. It was a start, she told herself. It would just take time and practice.

And time it took. Upon the completion of the first half of the set, the first warm breeze among the dying winter's frost had graced them. The remaining cold was retreating; however, it would take quite a while longer to call it comfortable.

Nonetheless, Uska's creation did not require comfort, merely a bare minimum to avoid death. Muddy brown was soon replaced by a slightly lusher green than they had found there last spring. Although the wing still bit fiercely into anything left unprotected, their small community was soon able to shed off winter's tiring coat. The Scal set was completed, the latter far more crude and unsightly than Heldron had crafted his, but it worked.

And it represented improving to do something she had always wished to learn, something fun.

“Something to make this valley our home," she smiled softly, looking out at the sunrise of another day in paradise, when wing flaps sounded from the distance. One pair, small, blue.

Ansura.