Adner

Valley Second Sun-Cycle

I woke early the next sun-cycle. I could see light peeking from behind the mountains to the east. The beams crowned them, but a dark chill and mist hugged the valley. I heard movement from the colony and looked around me at the sleeping dragons. We had a hard journey, and the previous dark-cycle had been a darkmare for them. I assumed life in the colony started early. I headed up the small rise when several peaceful two-leggeds appeared and hurried down the knoll.

They carried large bowls of water. I scanned the dragons in the valley again. Had I missed something? The Water Dragons were the farthest from the colony. They sat in the center of the shallow lake, far from the marshy edges. The mist clung to the watery area more than to the rest of the valley.

I watched as they raced toward the lake, and I followed. The colonists followed a narrow path through the marshes. I assumed the peaceful two-leggeds had built it with rocks and wood to keep them from getting stuck in the wet ground.

It only took me a few beats to figure out that our pregnant Water Dragon was in distress. When I reached her, I found several colonists with her. They were trying to keep her entire body wet, but it was not enough.

“She cannot give birth here. She must be submerged,” I told them. I felt it did no good.

Our communication had advanced, but not enough. I took flight. She must be moved, or we would lose the newling along with the mother.

I raced to the Winged Dragons and roused Winark.

“She is giving birth now,” I told him.

“How far is she?” he asked.

I shook my head.

Together with Winark’s mate, we raced back out to the middle of the shallow lake. My sister met us halfway. Seemia and Narown continued to the Water Mother and spoke with her, trying to figure out how much time we had. Could we move her, or was it already too late?

“It started a few hours ago,” Water Mother said. “I tried to move further into the center of the lake, hoping enough water lay there. It is not. The birthing canal is not submerged.”

Panic was creeping into her voice.

“I do not understand how they realized I was in distress, but an elderly female came from the colony. She smelled of smoke and earth. Her skin was thin and soft. She stroked around where my newling was and left. Then the others started coming. They seem to understand I need water to give birth or that the newling will need it after. It is not enough; it has been insufficient for several sun-cycles. The newling is alive, but her breath is waning. My weight is too much. She knows, water or land, it must be now.”

The mother broke into her kin’s mournful, haunting song of sorrow because she realized the newling would be lost. No tears came forth. She had no water to spare for her grief.

“Can we move you?” Seemia begged.

“No, she is coming now,” Water Mother said in the tone of the song she continued to sing.

“We should have moved them by moonlight,” Winark grumbled.

“If we had, we may have lost more than a newling,” I told him.

“There are only five.” He roared his frustration and eyed the ones that dared to look similar to our devastation.

“And that will have to be enough. We do not know who or what is meant to move on from here.”

Winark stared at me with suspicion. Not for the first time.

“What do you know, Adner?”

“Nothing more than what I shared with you every previous sun-cycle. Nothing, clear enough to share, yet. I hope I know who can help with that.”

“I will trust you for now,” he said.

“Thank you. Now let us save this newling.”

The colonists stayed crowded around the birth canal, using the replenished water to try to keep Water Mother’s canal from drying out. The Spirit Dragons, being the smallest, traveled into the colony to help with water. When the first dragon arrived at the lake with a container of water, he came to me.

“They are putting something in the water,” he told me.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I do not know. It smells up there, but once it cools, the smell goes away. An elderly female is chanting over it as well.”

“I wonder if she is the same one who found her?” Seemia asked.

“I will go see what is going on,” I said, turning to the colony.

“No,” my sister said, stopping me. “You need to be here if the newling is born.”

“Someone needs to go. Someone who can speak with them.”

“I will go,” she repeated and left before I could argue.

Seemia

I left my brother watching behind me as I headed to the colony. I knew the female that Water Mother had spoken of. We had talked to her the sun-cycle before when Adner and Winark were checking the river. Unlike the other peaceful two-legged, she fascinated me. The knowledge she held, we believed only dragons bore.

The elderly female knew the land and the energy that flowed through it. She spoke of the Guardian, not a Keeper. She possessed knowledge of what lay to the west and stated that we must travel there. There were wells waiting for us to fill them.

I did not understand everything the elderly female talked about, but I thought my brother might. I needed to find the time to talk to him. She had known the Water Mother was with newling, and she expressed that the newling could not wait. The newling was meant for their ecosphere, not the one we were traveling to. I feared what she meant. I feared she was taking the newling from her mother. Water Mother said the female had arrived after the birthing cycle began, but could she have been mistaken? Had I waited too long?

Adner was exhausted when he arrived back at the valley, and two dragons still needed saving. He required sleep, not more worry.

As I raced to the colony, I thought of the female. She was so much older than the others, and the colonists showed her respect that they did not even show their leader. They cast their eyes away from her. I thought it was respect, but was it fear?

When I came to the colony’s edge, I put my feet on the ground and walked among the bark enclosures. A large fire roared in the center of the colony, despite the sun having reached the valley. By the fire was the elderly female. Her white hair, which had once been the same black as the others, let the sun’s rays reach her scalp. The language she was using differed from the one the colony used. Around her, young males pounded the ground, then grabbed earth and flung it into the air.

I watched as she put dried plants into the water, singing her song that sounded of hope, love, and renewal. As I watched, she looked up and her eyes found mine. She never stopped singing. She never stopped swaying, and I moved along with her. Within the words, the movement, and the pounding rhythm of the young males, I heard a heartbeat growing stronger.

Before removing the water from the fire, I witnessed her giving many drops of her blood to it. The elderly female was giving everything she could to ensure the newling’s survival.

“I will let them know,” I told her before I left.

I never saw the female again. She had decided the Water Dragon newling’s life was more important than her own.

As I pushed my wings open to lift into the sky, I heard a purr in my mind.

‘They are coming. My colony will fight, but they are not warriors. Your brother must find him.’

Before it seemed possible, I was back at my brother’s side.

“She is doing everything she can to save the newling,” I told Adner. “She is giving up her life to protect the newling.”

“What? Why?”

“It is more important than she is.”

“She cannot know that,” Adner said, with frustration in his voice.

“Yes, she can. She knows things that two-leggeds should not know. She said they are coming, and that her colony will fight, but that they are not warriors. She said you must find him.” I saw on his face that he knew what she meant.

“What is in the water?” he asked, an edge in his voice.

“Dried flowers and herbs. She is singing in a language that her colony does not speak. The colonists are pounding the surrounding ground. I could hear the newling’s heartbeat, Adner. She is using her blood to nourish the newling. The female is going to die, and she is fine with that.”

“The newling is coming,” the Water Mother roared.

Her birth canal opened enough to allow the passing of a two-twig-length newborn Water Dragon. What came through that sun-peek was smaller. If the newling was lucky, she was one-twig-length. All Water Dragons are a shade of purple. This one was not. She bore brown, the color of earth.

The newling fell into one of the remaining buckets. She swam in circles spirited for a newling who everyone thought was dying. The colonists hurried with more containers. They used some for the Water Mother, who on her own should heal quickly. The two-leggeds gave her tons of fish. The fish were gathered the sun-cycle before, as if they knew the need for them.

As we watched, the newling grew until she did not fit the container she was circling in. The colonists brought a larger one over and pulled her from her current container and put her into the larger container. The newling was a female. Water Dragons have crests on their heads. Female crests are smaller and thinner. She was growing at an unprecedented rate. As she grew, the colonists moved her until there were no more containers. Her vigorous movements knocked over the last container, and she spilled into the lake’s shallow water. The colonists attempted to grab her.

The dragons have learned stories of new dragonkinds coming into being. They must discover their own path in creation. Because of kin interfering, more than one new dragonkind has been lost. The Mother’s great tail rose into the air and slammed onto the ground. It sent water flying and shook the ground. The other dragons blocked the colonists’ path.  

“She must find her own path,” her mother told them. “The elderly female’s name. What was it?”

“Yara,” I told her, “It means water lady.”

“Go, Yara, find your way. Be strong like your father and know every Water Dragon will know your name,” Water Mother cried as her newling slipped out of sight into other parts of the salt-enriched lake.

Yara

I had no words then, but in my heart, I cried my love for my mother who bore me, and I cried for the mother who made me strong. I slid into the purifying water and felt it sink into my body. Inside me, numerous lives waited to be released. They poured from me and became my kin. Here we stayed, hiding in plain sight.

Until the one called Steven came, and then the one called Abigale.

Adner

“We must move now. Not just the Water Dragons. We all must leave. I received a warning in my sleep that death will find us here, and the elderly female Yara told us the same. We will move the Water Dragons first. Then we will show you all your new temporary homes,” I told them after the news of the newling had swept through them.

“Water Mother, are you ready for the trip?” Winark asked in the kindest tone I have ever heard from him.

“I am. The colony has taken excellent care of me.”

“The river is not that far, but if the pain gets too much, let us know.”

“I will,” Water Mother said.

More Winged Dragons took her that time, which made it a slower trip, but I feared taking any chances. As Winark had stated, there were only five. To think that five dragons would be able to bring back an entire species seemed unthinkable then, but the sea teems with their amethyst radiance now.

They laid the Water Dragons in the river individually. It was not deep enough for them to swim, but as the fast water traveled by, it moved up their sides. The river lifted their bodies enough so that the pressure was removed from their organs.

Food would continue to be brought to the Water Dragons. The small fish they snagged would not be sufficient. There is a sound that Water Dragons make when they are happy. It requires them to hold water in the pouches in their throats. The five filled their pouches for the first time in several sun-cycles, and together they made that sound. The sound returned to them. It came from over by the colony. Only Water Dragons possess the ability to create the sound, and the voices were numerous. Yara was not alone.

After the Water Dragons were in their new home, we started moving the others. Fire Dragons possessed no wings, which meant they were in for a long, hard walk. The gorge was narrow and rocky. Water plunged down the gorge, colliding with every rock as it made its perilous journey to the river below. The plant growth and water on the rocks made them treacherous. When the last of the Fire Dragons arrived on the opposite riverbank, Winark located me.

“We need to cut off the gorge,” Winark told me.

Then he flew over the river. I followed him.

We studied the ridgeline and the gorge. Winark realized we were thinking as dragons, not two-legged beasts. Our enemy would not follow the Fire Dragons’ tracks. The terrain was far too difficult to traverse.

“The colony got here by floating vessels,” I told him.

“Along the river straight into the Water Dragons,” he growled at himself. Then he roared, “Why did we not see this?”

“Because we were looking through dragon eyes, not two-legged beasts’ eyes, and we needed cycles when we arrived.”

I left him surveying the land and went to Water Mother.

“We cannot leave you here. The two-legged beasts will be approaching by the water, not over the land as we did,” I said.

“Of course they will,” she whispered as she thought of leaving the water so soon. “Where will we go? To the mountains?”

“I see no other choice. I will try to make your stay there as short as possible.”

Water Mother stared into my eyes, and her gaze shifted, becoming blank. I feared for a moment that she decided she was done with trying. She had lost her mate, and his magic was being used against us. Then came a fleeting moment with her daughter, who was alive but never to be one of our clan. Yara had somehow made her own.

Then I saw Water Mother’s chest rise, and she came back to me.

“Yara has found a place for us. It is to the north. A natural dam has formed, and caves are flooded where we can hide,” she said with tears in her eyes.

I dared not hope.

“How do you know?”

“She showed me pictures in my head,” Water Mother’s voice overflowed with joy.

“I will send a scout and find it,” I told her.

“There is no need. I will get there myself,” she sang out.

She rolled her glorious body the other way. The other four Water Dragons watched her and asked where she was going.

“Where we can swim and be safe,” she roared.

Water Mother moved her body as a snake would, tearing up the waterbed and making little progress. The others tried to follow, making less progress than she did. One found himself stranded in the forest that covered the mountain.

“Please, we will get you there as soon as we find out where it is located,” I told them.

Three of the still mobile dragons stopped. Water Mother did not.

“Please,” I begged her.

It was Narown who came to my aid.

“Mother,” Narown purred after she landed in front of Water Mother. “All mothers know why you want to go now, but hurting yourself will not help you see Yara any sooner. Adner has always spoken true to us. He will bring you to her soon.”

“Do you have younglings?” Water Mother said, fighting back her tears.

“I did,” Narown said.

Her tone was one I had only heard from mothers who had lost their younglings.

“Do you have any idea what it felt like to never touch my daughter, never love her, and tell her to find her own way?”

“Yes.” I looked at Narown, but her eyes never left Water Mother’s. “I had a newling who was born weak. He was placed beside me. His tiny body shook with pain, and he fought for every breath. Before I was ever a mother, I told him it was all right to leave us and that we would carry him with us always. Yara is alive and well. She will wait no matter how long it takes.”

The Water Dragon mother stopped fighting and cried with Narown for all the lost newlings and younglings.

“Quick, we must find this place. It will be best to follow the river,” I told my sister.

We took to the sky, which was brightening as mid-sun approached. We moved along the river as it slipped around the mountains. When we came around the last bend, we saw a large deadfall of trees. It had amassed an inordinate amount of natural debris. I figured the mountainside must have given way further upriver. Plenty of water still spilled through the trees, and with the streams running off the surrounding mountains into the river, it was able to flow well.

When we flew over the natural dam, as promised, we discovered adequate space for the Water Dragons. I hoped the flooded caves were there as well. Even if they were not, the two-legged beasts would collide with us initially. With the Winged Dragons and my clan perched upon our mountains, observing from the two peaks, the enemy could not slip by without us noticing.

After we transported four of the five Water Dragons to the deadfall lake, we turned our attention to the male Water Dragon stranded in the trees. He injured himself when he came out of the water. Water Dragon scales are strong and most of the time hard to puncture. Because of the lack of proper water and food, one of his scales pulled away from his body. A splintered tree trunk slipped under that scale and pierced the soft skin underneath.

The Winged Dragons made effortless work of removing the splintered trunk, but blood poured from the wound. The Spirit Dragons’ elders stepped up then. We have healing abilities, but as we grow older, the abilities grow stronger. The elders never reach the point where they can save someone who is at the brink of death, but they can help larger wounds heal faster.

When the two-legged beasts attacked, we lost many elders, but a few remained. The elders took turns helping the Water Dragon heal himself, for they had the power but not the stamina. The loose scale was bound in place by what nature had available.

Unlike the journey the four Water Dragons took together, his own took longer because his healed flesh required great care not to reopen. Once he was with his kin, he swam without difficulty in the open waters.

I stayed and watched them longer than I should have. I had not seen them happy in so long. The joyous sounds they created at the river were incomparable to the moments by the deadfall lake. Alongside the great purple Water Dragons swam smaller brown dragons. When they lay on the bottom of the lake, they disappeared from sight. They shared everything else except size. The ones coming with us were countless sapling-lengths. The brown ones were five twig-lengths at the most, and I felt they were full-grown.

They made sounds but did not use words. They used visions to communicate with the large Water Dragons. We had no cycles to give. Had we spared them, might they have learned our language? Might they have found their voices?

I still wonder about them to this season cycle. I hope they stayed hidden.

Winark was the one who came looking.

“You have too much to do. You cannot watch them all sun-cycle,” he reminded me.

“I know. I just needed something beautiful to remember from here.”

We left the dragons; I hoped they would not glimpse the war that was coming.

“Shall we find a mountain for the Fire Dragons?” I asked Winark as we flew away.

“We might have already.”

I looked at him for a moment. He understood what we needed as I did. If he thought he and his scouts had located it, I knew I could trust his judgment.

“Show me.”

I followed Winark up the gorge into the mountains where we had been the previous sun-cycle. We passed the area that smelled of a new ecosphere. The necessary feature lay further up the same mountain. When we came to the rounded peak, I saw what he must have seen.

“Is that it?” I asked.

It had to be. It was like someone or something had prepared the mountains for us. Nothing the slightest bit volcanic lay within the area. Yet in the middle of that peak sat a pool of lava. I descended until I felt the heat. A modest clearing sat on the mountaintop. The trees surrounding it were healthy, even though they should be dead or dying.

“With good fortune, these trees are friendlier,” Winark said.

“The Fire Dragons will be fine. Everyone else might want to stay clear.”

For the first time, I heard Winark voice a deep, hearty laugh. I stared at him. I was serious.

“My kin will be so disappointed. The Winged Clan has been saying how much we miss sitting around a pool of lava.”

I smiled at him.

“That is one issue we do not have to worry about.”

We chuckled for a while as we flew back to the others. Most were sitting around the stream. Mid-sun had moved into late-sun, and the Fire Dragons’ trip was certain to be hard. Fewer trees grew along the gorge, but hiking the ridges, they might run into the wrong trees. The journey would be lengthy, no matter the route.

Winark and I had talked and decided the gorge was the best. We would have plenty of water and fewer trees to worry about. Also, the gorge’s grade was less severe than the ridge.

The number of Fire Dragons was higher than any other dragonkind. They were not as large as the Winged or Water Dragons, but much larger than Spirit Dragons. Their legs were stout and carried them up the gorge without an issue. I had no worries concerning their endurance. It was the land managing them. This part of the ecosphere was not used to creatures of their size. Their long black horns could be a problem. Openness is what they are built for, not tree cover. As a clan we discovered a way; no additional choices existed.

The start of our journey moved along well. The gorge was an easy, steady grade. Everyone appeared to be managing all right. We turned a tight left curve in the gorge, and things stopped moving well.

The sight made them hesitant. Fire Dragons’ feet and claws are designed for hard, rocky, level surfaces. The grade at this point steepened. The cascading water flowed down the mountain, drenching boulders, so the dragons could not grip them well with their claws.

Overhead were trees of different varieties growing out of the sides of the mountains. Some had grown downward and outward to reach water and sunlight. It only took a few beats for the first Fire Dragon’s horn to become entangled in those low branches and he found it impossible to get free while standing on a slippery, loose boulder.

Many panicked when they figured out they could not just pull free. Gripped in that panicked confinement, they made things worse instead of better. A few lost their footing and fell hard on the boulders. More than one dragon came up bloody.

It looked as if the earth had just ripped open and exposed the rocks. The water had not been given the time to wear the boulders smooth.

I instructed the Spirit Dragons to help the Fire Dragons. The Winged Dragons’ wingspans and body girth made them far too big to be of help. They would cause more chaos in the confined area. The smaller dragons used their paws and released the long, black, spiraling horns from the crooked limbs and wiry vines. Some of the Fire Dragons were harder to get free than others. The ones that had gotten higher into the trees proved to be more difficult.

A roar erupted, silencing the grumbles and outcries of the other dragons. The roar was not one of panic or frustration. It was primal fear, and it was the tone of a youngling.

All dragon eyes darted toward the heart-stopping sound we believed we would never hear again, for most of us were bigger than any predator we had seen so far.

The younglings had gotten ahead of us, for the trees were higher than their stubby horns, and cracks were easy to find with their smaller claws. They hopped from rock to rock and back again as the adults struggled. They had stayed clear of the rushing water, which would have taken one of them away and broken their bodies. We had heard their laughter even though the water did everything it could to drown their gleeful squeals.

Our journey had been lingering and hard. Many moon-cycles passed before we arrived at the valley. We lost more Fire Dragons than any others on that trip. They had lost too many younglings. Without wings, the great herd ran to keep up with us who had wings. They were forced to fight through dense forests and dash through open, dangerous plains. And as with everything, the strongest survive. The cruelty of that never hit us harder than in the past several moon-cycles. At each stop, it seemed the Fire Dragons’ clan shrank.

They were still the largest group among us, but I assumed the losses were behind us until that roar.

The younglings stood at the top of the gorge. The water veered away from the peak we were heading toward. Several mountains came together at the water’s sharp left turn, and the younglings stopped there, unsure where to go. When the attack happened, they scattered. Some fell into the howling water, a few held fast to rocks, and the torrent swept away others. I was certain that many of the younglings had gone higher into the tree-covered mountains to hide.

The predators who caused the outcries were enormous. They were large pack beasts with two massive teeth that hung below their jawlines. In one of their mouths was a youngling’s limp body; if any energy filled the young one, it perished within beats. Others stood behind that one, ready to continue their hunt.

The Winged Dragons released a battle cry even though no order was given. Sometimes none is needed. Winark was in front with his kin at his side. The toothy beasts observed what was coming for them. From the reactions of the pack beasts, I suspected they had never seen the likes of us. They turned as a pack with their single small prize and fled up the mountain.

Without orders, the Spirit Dragons stopped what they were doing and dove to save as many younglings as possible. I was the one who returned to the river and retrieved the two tiny bodies. They were the youngest in the clan. I laid them at the feet of their grieving parents.

Winark had not returned, but several Winged Dragons were back and started patrolling the area. A few Fire Dragons and Spirit Dragons were guarding the surviving younglings. Other Spirit Dragons had returned to their untangling work. The rest of the adult Fire Dragons succeeded in reaching the top.

I hoped we had seen the end of the predators. My hopes were dashed. We still had a mountain to climb, and dragons were bleeding. I knew hunters’ senses would draw predators to us.

“We have to put the younglings in the center of the clan and stay diligent,” I said, my voice raised. “Spirit Dragons stay high and on the outer edge so we can see them coming if they return.”

The scared and hurt younglings huddled close to one another. Fire Mothers circled them and dared anything to come close. The Fire Bulls stayed on the outer rim of the herd. Their primary defense had always been their lava bombs, but the herd had depleted what little they possessed. The only other defenses they had were their tails and horns. Their tails could do severe damage, depending on the attacker. The last thing used was their horns. If they were using those, the fight came far too close, and their likelihood of survival dropped.

The trees on the mountain were dense, and keeping everyone close together was becoming impossible. I grew more concerned the further we traveled. The sound of feathered wings came from overhead. I scanned the sky to find that a couple of the Winged Dragons had returned. The trees were so dense they could not descend. I glanced around and, when I saw nothing, I rose to meet them.

“Winark sent us back to tell you we glided by other beasts.”

“Other beasts?” I asked.

“Yes, they are pack beasts, they have the color of a grey back but larger than what we have ever seen.”

“Alright, how long?” I asked.

“About three hundred beats. They are coming from the south, and they have no trouble getting through the trees.”

“Very well.”

I dropped back into the trees.

“We must get them moving faster. They have to get to the lava. The ones coming are worse than what we have seen so far. Go to the back. They must hasten. The predators will approach from the rear.”

The ground vibrated with the impact of hundreds of heavy feet. Fire Mothers swept up the younglings, and the group sped for the top.

“There is lava ahead. Defend your kin. Race!” I roared.

Somehow the large, flightless dragons sped up when the heat filled the air and the howls reached them.

I glanced to the right and observed our gray-fur-covered pursuers. They were enormous compared to the grey backs my clan was used to. Their howls ripped through the dark-cycle that had filled the sky before our arrival at the top of the mountain.

Above us, familiar roars erupted. The Winged Dragons had returned, but were of no help; the trees kept them from descending. The pack beasts knew they were shielded from our greatest defenders. The sounds they emitted were of predators who were preparing to eat. The first grey back attacked. The pack beast sprinted in from the right and snapped at an exposed male on the edge.

The Fire Dragon lashed out with his whiplike tail. It caught the grey back’s hind flank and split the pack beast’s flesh as he screamed. The wounded pack member fell behind, letting his pack beasts feed him, and the pack beasts had learned something important. They learned coming from behind was an ill plan. The pack moved to the front. This time, they came from multiple directions. They attacked from both sides and straight ahead. Struck by the Fire Dragon’s tails, the ones who came from the sides had bones snapped and flesh sliced open. Piercing cries of pain filled the dark-cycle. The dragons’ slick black horns either swept the grey backs aside or pierced through them. Others got through, and the grey backs’ sharp teeth tried to sink into the unfamiliar bodies of dragons, only to find their prey’s hide was not so easy to pierce. Their claws slipped as they sought a hold. The teeth held better because of bite pressure more than the teeth themselves. Other grey backs never made it to their goal, for the long-spiraling black horns of the Fire Dragons found their target. Some pack beasts sailed through the air, hitting trees, and the keen ears that covered the mountain heard bones splintering.

Spirit Dragons dived in, even though they were similar in size to the grey backs but were outweighed. They sank teeth and claws into the soft flesh of the pack beasts. The grey backs were forced to release the Fire Dragons and turn to their attackers. The Spirit Dragons carried them into the air the instant the pack beasts let go.

The pack beasts whimpered in fear, and they fought to get a hold of the ones who held them. When bodies started falling from the sky, the ones plummeting were not just the enemy. Many Spirit Dragons’ lives ended protecting the new clan.

I stayed ahead, showing the way, never stopping to glance at who had fallen.

“Hurry!” I roared. “We are almost there.”

I perceived echoes of death on every side. I hoped to see my sister once we reached where I thought the grey backs were unwilling to go. The spot seemed extraordinary. I thought most beasts would avoid it.

We just need to reach it, I thought as we raced.

When the trees thinned out, the grey backs did as I had hoped. They shifted from snarling, snapping, and howling to silence. Then they disappeared. We raced into the clearing. Sitting in the center of the opening was the salvation of the Fire Dragons. Unlike the other clansdragons, the hurt and bleeding Fire Dragons continued into the magma. The lava gave them the heat their bodies needed to heal.

I turned to count the loss of my kin. I peered down the mountain to see that the bodies were gone. What occurred was no battle. It happened to nourish those in need. Though we grieved our losses, they did not lie in waste. Their bodies helped to nourish the young and elderly of the pack beast clan, as their dead nourished us.

“Where will we be going?” From behind me, a voice I feared I would never hear again asked.

I turned to see my sister.

“I thought you had joined the soul energy stream,” I told her.

Seemia saw something in my face. She touched her nose to mine and we touched foreheads.

“I will not leave your side until we have done what you are destined to do,” she said with such confidence; it compelled me to ask.

“How do you know I am destined to do anything?”

“You are not the only one in the family who has dreams,” she said as she pulled away from me and stared into my eyes. “You will make remarkable things happen here. Things that I do not fully understand.”

“You have seen it? The gathering?” I asked. I hoped she had seen it, for I longed to know without doubts that I was walking my true path.

“I do not know what I saw, but in the end, we had new dragons.”

“Younglings, of course,” I said.

“No, Adner, new dragonkind, and I do not just mean the new Water Dragons. These were a new breed of dragon. They could make flowers grow.”

I stared at her; she was not speaking of my path. I was desperate to save the remaining ones, not to create more. Yara happened to save her life, not because of anything that I had done. If anything, the River Dragon creation occurred because I was killing her.

“You will see one season cycle,” Seemia assured me.

I turned from her and surveyed my surroundings, trying to establish who had not arrived at the peak. We lost ten of our kin, but none of the youngest. They stayed high out of harm’s way. The Fire Dragons had not fared so favorably. The number of wounded was high. The fatalities were lower than ours, but that could change before the dark-cycle ended. Having the lava made a difference to them. Deprived of it, a majority of the wounded Fire Dragons might have perished.

“Adner.”

I looked up at the sound of my name and saw Winark overhead.

“How are your kin?” I asked.

“Better than any of yours,” he told me. “We never engaged in a fight. The toothy pack beasts disappeared into a cave, and the large pack beasts stayed in thick underbrush when they fled with their kills.”

“Was anyone left?”

“Not alive,” he said.

“I see.”

“Both packs had to be desperate to attack,” Winark said, staring at the trees that concealed the bodies on the mountain.

“I do not think they knew what had come into their mountains. They lost as many as we did, if not more. We will gather the kills; the Fire Dragons will need them,” I said.

“My clan can land here as long as we do not get too close to the lava and walk into the trees. I am sorry we could not help you.” Winark sounded angry.

“It could not be helped,” I reminded him. “Your kin did what they could. We need to rest. It has been a long sun-cycle.”

“My kin will harvest the kills for the clan. You and your kin bed down on the white-rocked mountain and rest. We will go to the red-rocked mountain. We can watch our entire clan from those two points,” Winark told me.

“We must retrieve the Shadow Box this darkfall. I dislike it being so far away,” I told him and stared in the direction in which it lay.

“One of my bulls will retrieve it. You rest.”

I agreed, but first I had to meet with Pyroton. After searching for him, I discovered he was one of those who did not survive. His son, Flamnor, would take his place.

“He died leading our clan up the mountain. I saw him spear one creature, and he trampled another. It took two to end him,” Flamnor said.

He was strong and full-grown, but he wept for his father.

I told him our clan had lost a great dragon and his energy traveled to the soul energy stream. His energy would one sun-cycle fill the body of another great dragon. The son stood proud with the knowledge.

My kin left as Winark and his kin started gathering. The white rock shone in the setting sun of the dark-cycle. A few trees sheltered the cap of the mountain. As we got near, I noticed they were the same kind of trees that had attacked me the previous sun-cycle. One trunk was wider, and its limbs reached further than the rest, and it sat on the edge of the rock face. Its great limbs spread out as if ridding itself of tension. Each branch was heavy with limbs that held large duck-foot-shaped leaves that were dark green. They rustled in the wind, and the wood spoke as it moved.

“Wait here,” I told my kin, “let me see if it will let us near.”

I flew a circle around the beautiful tree with slow gentle beats of my wings. The tulp-shaped flowers were orange and pale green. I found out later that they felt similar to the leaves, and hidden inside the flowers were large thorns. The tree made no move to harm me.

A shudder traveled through it at my touch, but again it did not attack. Instead, its branches brushed the ground as the tree bent forward, as if in welcome. I flew into its canopy, and there I found shelter for my kin.

The others approached and, as the remaining sunlight settled behind the mountain, they each found a branch to lie upon. I lay upon the one that reached out over the lengthy drop. From there, I could see the Fire Dragons feasting on our prey. I watched as the Winged Dragons took kills to their mountain. One of them broke off from the others, and in his claws hung what was for my kin. The battle bore fruit for both sides, but it was a high cost for both. I hoped the pack beasts understood we were difficult prey and would not be hunting us again.

With full bellies and the dark-cycle moonless, we found places within the tree. I gazed out and noticed the lava concealed on the mountaintop.

They are better now, I told myself. Them and the Water Dragons.

I just needed to figure out what happened next. We had found the entryway to the ecosphere we needed, but I also knew I was missing something. I believed we were unable to leave, and I sensed it had something to do with what the two-legged beasts stole from our dragon clans.

I fell asleep chasing those thoughts in my head.

When the dream encased me, I observed a field that appeared like any other, but something informed me this one was unique. A being lived there who held knowledge I needed. I scanned the environment and noticed two beings at one of the many mountain bases. Circling the valley were many tall peaks, which concealed and protected the area. One was a herd beast never seen by my clan, and I realized the creature must be the one Winark told me of. The other was smaller. This one’s size and shape resembled a fox but was no fox. The little creature’s body was dark gray and black, and on the critter’s face was a mask. Both beings’ eyes glowed with the light of the pale soul stream.

“Tankin will show the way. My name is Oisin,” the herd beast said.