Winark

Valley Arrival Dark-Cycle

We had lost an immeasurable number of our kin. The extinction of three of our dragonkinds weighed heavy upon us. We now whisper of them as the Extinguished.

As we flew over the forested mountains in the dark-cycle, burdened by our water bound brethren, exhaustion found us under the empty sky. As a clan we fled, hauling the weight willingly, for death was certain for any abandoned.

We needed a body of water capable of holding part of those we carried, but where might we find such a thing in the highlands? They came from the oceans and seas. Mountains did not hold deep healing waters.

Below us, trees toppled as the largest remaining herd stomped smaller saplings into the ground. Their clan leader carried our most broken cargo. The woodland life fled from the shrieks the box emitted.

The smallest of our group traveled ahead, seeking what we required.

Rest

Food

Water

Concealment from our hunters’ persistence remained our highest priority.

We had been searching for far too long to find a place we could call ours. Newlings had stopped being born. Those unable to keep up never stood a chance. The group ahead who sought for our new home knew failure meant dragonkind would perish.

Ahead of us, a speck of white emerged from the darkness. It grew, little by little. It appeared to be one of us, yet I still readied myself for a fight. We had endured plenty of unpleasant surprises from these two-legged beasts. Trust no longer survived in assumptions.

Our kind became too complacent in our role within the ecosphere. We dismissed the two-legged beasts as pests, something to be ignored, and we paid an insurmountable price for our ignorance.

Yet even in our regret, balance offered a sign. Soon, there could be no doubt. Seemia was coming toward us.

If they sent her, then perhaps, for once, all might be well.

“Winark, we found water,” she said. Spirit Dragon voices are soft, even when raised in anger, which is rare. Her eyes swept over the ones around us and the ones beneath.

“What is it?” I growled, knowing she was keeping something from me.

Her eyes darted back to mine.

“Two-legged beasts are there,” she said quick, knowing the response.

“Two-legged beasts!” I roared with the icy breath of my kind, and it swallowed her. If she had been any other species, she would have plummeted to the ground, frozen and shattered when she hit the mountain below.

Seemia was not just any other creature. Elegance shaped her presence, and grace commanded her movement. Her white-scaled body glinted even in the inkiest of darkness. A silky-looking fin drifted from the crown of her head to the tip of her tail. Her four wings matched in color with the fin on her back, a creamy purple. They bowed at the tips as they glided in time together. Her ebony eyes looked at me, unblinking.

Spirit Dragons appear delicate, but they are unbreakable. By dragons’ paws, the two-legged beasts learned to harm all dragons.

“Adner is the one who decided on the spot. Shall I go back and tell him you refuse?”

I stared her in the eyes and growled deep, knowing I had no choice. I knew it. She knew it, and so did everyone who overheard.

“No, tell him I will be there. A two-legged snack is just what I need.”

“The Shadow Dragon box will have to be left at a distance from the colony. The two-legged beasts will not be immune to its power.”

“So, we are hiding the deeds of their kind? Their shame!” I held back my icy breath.

“No, because one group of two-legged beasts’ actions are not their shame. As the Aethereal Dragons’ deeds are not ours.”

She spoke no more and did not wait for my reply. She turned and headed to her kind.

We never stayed together as we did then. The two-legged beasts created the change.

They located a youngling separate from his kind and drained him not only of his life, but of his magic. They took what never belonged to their species. What nature refused to give them lies within dragons.

Their greed is ceaseless.

Compassion for souls is not in them.

They fear beings they imagine can harm them, regardless of their intent.

These three traits have brought all dragonkind to the brink of joining the Extinguished.

Adner shared his visions with me, and I observed the fate of the first dragon caught by the two-legged beasts. I witnessed his savage death and heard him wail for a father who never came.

He was a Water Dragon separated from his father. Their dragonkind have two primary defenses, sharp teeth and lethal barbs on their fins. Both can cut through any hide or flesh. This youngling was far too young to be out of his father’s pouch. Why he was abandoned, we may never know. We discovered the Aethereal Dragons helped the two-legged find him.

The two-legged beasts stripped the youngling of his defenses, though he had not yet learned their purpose. They ripped his teeth and fins from his small body. He cried out with the musical voice of his kind. Not one heart waned among the two-legged beasts. His heart still beat. His dragon‑cries still sang. And even then, they cut into a place dragons harbor deep within. Concealed within bone harder than the ones which hold up our great bodies.

The two-legged beasts pulled out a crystal that was dark green with a blood-red stone rippling through it. One of them held the sharp crystal high. Moonlight danced on it as the crystal sat above his head. They released a primal scream that mixed with the tiny dragon’s mournful, pain-filled song. He plunged the crystal into the little one’s core. A cracking sound emanated from the scene, and a glorious light poured from the tiny dragon. The youngling’s cry changed. We no longer heard pain but horror to a degree that it defied understanding.

What had they done to him? My mind screamed.

Adner stopped the connection then. He showed me enough, so I understood what was happening to our kind. When I looked at him, I realized he had viewed much more.

“They are calling themselves wizards.” His voice was haunted from all he had seen. “The two-leggeds have been taught how to harvest our magic, and they crave more. They hunger for what remains.”

I looked upon the ones we were hauling. It took three of us to hold one, and we could only find five.

FIVE!

How can only five of the second largest dragons remain? The largest, the Lightning Dragons were all gone. They had roamed the ecosphere in a pawful of close clans and reproduced slow. Adner tried to find a trace of them, but none remained. He wanted us to go among them again?!

“He will have his reasons.” A voice to my right spoke.

I glanced over at my mate. Her ice-blue hooded eyes found mine and held them. The white scales covering most of her body sparkled wherever the moonlight peeked through the clouds and hit them. Her white-feathered wings tickled my side as she came near.

“I know,” I growled in my frustration.

“We understood when we started this journey we were putting our lives in his paws. We had to trust him no matter what he said,” my mate told me, not for the first time on this journey.

Before our clan started on the journey, we had spoken of this. I had been the leader of our clan for several cycles then, and she questioned whether I could step back and permit another to share the role.

I was to be included in any important decisions which impacted my clan. Adner gave me his oath. He kept his promise until then, and it occurred at an essential decision.

“It is two-legged beasts, Narown.”

“I realize, Winark, but you gave your word.” Her eyes did not waver from mine. “Our word is our blood.”

As it always was, my mate guided me to the path that must be chosen. Regardless of the losses suffered, if Adner stated they had located their new home, then it must be. For the Spirit Dragons had suffered no less than the others. Of all the dragons, they were the ones most coveted. Each dragonkind’s magic has its own special property.

The wizard who bore the first dragon’s stolen magic controlled the surrounding water. They could slice through scale and hide with whatever they held in their paw if they had their wand in the other.

The two-legged beasts could enter the oceans and seas that housed and hid the Water Dragons. Wizards made air bubbles around themselves and searched every trench and cave. The exploration did not take long. Curious, the Water Dragons approached the strange new beings in their ecosphere. The surrounding water turned into a weapon, slicing through their scales, hide, and then meat. The two-legged beasts learned what they needed from their first kills. They understood what not to damage.

The two-legged beasts made more wands.

More dragons died.

Next to be attacked were the Fire Dragons. They had seen little of the two-leggeds, for their dragonkind needed excessive heat. They live within the valleys of volcanoes, where lava lakes churn, steaming streams hiss, and oceans boil. Two-legged beasts and many other species stayed far from these places. The enemy targeted the Fire Dragon clans who lived along the coastlines. By the time the two-legged beasts reached the other clans, the dragons had abandoned their sites.  

With the power of the ocean in their clutches, the two-legged beasts swept forward. Ominous waves of saltwater preceded them, cooling the dragons’ heated environments. Fire Dragons and Water Dragons have a pouch in the hollow of their necks. The Water Dragons use theirs for one purpose, to shoot water bombs. They are large balls of water shot from their mouths at an extreme rate of speed, capable of killing most small creatures. They cause grave injury to larger beings. Fire Dragons use their pouches in two ways. One is to shoot lava bombs. The other is to keep their body temperature high. Fire Dragons can survive low temperatures, but the lower the degree, the slower the dragon.

Some Fire Dragons had their pouches filled with lava. They did not use the lava for defense or to aid others who had none. They clung to their lava with heartbreaking greed and ran. The dragons who fled were the ones below us that dark-cycle.

A pawful of dragons, quick with their lava and other defenses, killed some two-legged beasts. The wizards wasted no time identifying the remaining weapons. The wizards sliced through the defenseless Fire Dragons. When they stole their magic, the wands were filled with the power of fire. Fire Dragons have two defenses other than their lava bombs. Their magnificent spiraling black horns, which rise above their heads, are one, and the split end of their long, strong tails, which serve as whips, are another. Along with fire control, the wand let the bearer use it as if an invisible whip protruded from its end. It split the hide of one without scales and cut off airways to any creature. If a wizard who held a wand with this magic also carried a sword, its steel could pierce almost anything.

From there, they are believed to have sought the gentle Lightning Dragons. These dragons were the largest dragons ever known to us. They migrate following the same seasonal route. They followed the storm cycles, for their energy came from the lightning they catch with the majestic fans on their backs. The only wings the giants bore stretched out from under their wing membrane. They were not for flight but for collecting fresh rainwater, which pooled and was absorbed through their skin. Their teeth were for grinding trees and other large plant life, whether it grew on land or sea; it was the only nourishment they ingested. When at sea, they spread their enormous webbed toes and glided across oceans with powerful tails. These were peaceful dragons. Their size was their primary defense.

They had protectors; Shadow Dragons sailed within the giants’ storms. These dragons were part of the darkness. Shadow Dragons’ shrieks caused darkmares for any non-dragons who heard them. Their mere presence caused feelings of impending doom. The sight of them when glimpsed induced fear. They slipped from one location to another, leaving behind a trace of a shadow. Their scales shifted in pigment, allowing them to melt into their environment. Their palette consisted of shades of black, deep blues, and dark purples. Their front paws bore long, many-jointed appendages like our enemy’s paws, and the thin, twisted horns on their short-snouted faces deepened the fear they inspired in the two-legged.

Shadow Dragons found a symbiotic bond with the Lightning Dragons. The giants gave the smaller dragons fresh water and food. Rainwater collected in places where it could not be absorbed. A shake expelled the water, but if helpful to some being, it pleased the giants. The Lightning Dragons had a low charge on their scaleless skin, which kept most pests away. A few pests had defenses or fed off the charge. The Shadow Dragons offered pest removal, and the small dragons received a meal. They also defended the Lightning Dragons with fangs, claws, and a tail with a thin, sharp bone shaped similar to an arrowhead. A quick flick of it as they went by would slice flesh and muscle. They both received lifelong companionship.

The Lightning Dragons’ graveyard rested in the deepest part of the ocean. After countless ages of walking with Nature, they made their final journey alone. The two-leggeds found a female on her Final Journey of Resting and stole her ancient magic. She fought with what she had, her will and lightning energy. The grand, peaceful dragon filled the surrounding waters with a charge, and several two-leggeds sank into the deep. Her body gave up, but not her magic. Adner told me, unlike the child, her magic fought the extraction. It lashed out with brilliant light. Some of the two-legged fell, blinded for the rest of their short, horrid lives. I wish I could have seen it.

The giant fell in the end and had her magic ripped from her.

Without warning, lightning rose from the ground one dark-cycle. The lightning’s multitude of branches shot out of a wand. It flashed across the sky, found the Shadows, and dragons fell like rain.

The precious few who survived the lightning and impact had their magic removed. Uncontrollable, the magic within those wands teleported the two-legged beasts to places they did not intend to travel — into non-breathing places, wooden places, stone places, dirt places, and watery depths. The wands’ shrieking was without end and caused the two-leggeds’ minds and eyes to see waking darkmares. The two-legged beasts were taught to make the wands but not how to unmake them. Adner said they sealed the wands in a box and dumped them into the sea.

With their guardians gone the Lightning Giants fell to the cruelty of the two-legged beasts.

The Fire Dragons carried that box as we fled into the mountains that dark-cycle. The wands shrieked about the horror done to the dragons.

The two-legged beasts knew my kin well and hated Winged Dragons. Their hatred toward us may have been what drove them to kill the first.

We lived where the hunting was best. We stayed high in the mountains. As years went by, we were forced near to where the two-leggeds dwelled.

We have always terrified them.

Not because we hunt them.

Not because we have stolen livestock from them.

They and what they consume were not sufficient to satisfy us.

They hate us because they fear us. They fear us because they do not understand us.

What we eat will eat them. We are monsters who eat monsters. We are the stuff of their darkmares. Now they are ours.

They came under the cover of a moonless dark-cycle. We crave the cold and relish the coldest dark-cycles. Instead of being asleep in our caves as they had planned to find us, we were up using our magic. We were calling for the snow to fall, and changing the ice’s form around us. Our younglings filled the darkfall sky, with a few using their wings for the first time. The surrounding air was crisp and filled with the odor of our recent kills. The longest dark-cycle of the season cycle is our time.

Unknown to us, we were not alone. They ascended the mountain. Shrouded in our prey, killed by our kind’s magic, was our demise. The two-legged beasts hid their odor under the stench of death. The first roar was a quick, painful sound. Not all of us identified where the sound originated.

Mothers filled the sky, and in a beat blocked the younglings from any unwanted sight. The rest of us rushed to the war cries sounding to the south. One of the Mothers roared in pain as her left wing fell from the sky. The other Mothers, at once, filled the space she left when she plummeted to the ground. She worked her other wing with all her strength to soften her landing, but she hit too hard on the frozen, unforgiving ground. The sound of her bones splintering filled her ears. We are a clan of warriors, and she pulled herself up with one leg, ill-aligned and misshapen.

The scent of Winged Dragon blood filled the dark-cycle, and we moved as one to defend the wounded. When I reached the front of my clan, two-leggeds stood before us, clenching their wands. Behind them, we saw the two-legged beasts opening our kin’s bodies. The sound of cracking bone followed as they stole what was ours alone. I released my fury in a roar that broke the nearby ice and shook the trees. Behind me, my clan answered with a roar to equal my own.

“Mothers, flee with the younglings!”

As commanded, they fled, despite their reluctance. I did not need to check.

The younglings and newlings took cover on the mothers’ fur-covered backs as they sped away.

“Brothers and Sisters, we fight!”

Within moments of that surge forward, I realized I had condemned many of my clan to death—the wizards controlled fire. We can manage to a degree on the outside, but similar to the Fire Dragons, our core must be a certain temperature. The two-legged beasts had arrived with a plan.

As the first wizard raised what appeared to be a stick, Torgen, a friend from newlings who grew into my right-claw bull, stepped in front of me. The two-legged made a slicing gesture with the stick and, without touching my friend, Torgen’s chest split open. The wand in the wizard’s other paw rose, and a stream of fire erupted from a nearby torch. It filled Torgen’s chest, and he collapsed to the ground. His eyes rolled skyward. He fell into a deep sleep, which Winged Dragons go into when their core temperature goes too high. It is a natural defense. Our body functions drop to near nothing until our core temperature drops again.

“To the sky!”

Too many of my clan were lost.

A fierce Winged Mother’s roar forced me to glance downward at the one incapable of retreating. She looked up at me, and shame filled me. I had forgotten her.

“Take care of my son,” she gasped.

I refused to leave her in the paws of those foul monsters. On my soul energy, she would be the one to raise her son.

As one of my clan’s male dragons flew in to carry her, I released my icy breath upon the two-legged beasts who rushed at her. The wizards blasted fire at us and kept coming.

“Go save the clan,” she cried.

Winged Mother could not fly; she could not run. Her icy breath struck the enemy. They scorched her face with fire, and she fell to the ground. The clan roared as one. The two-legged monsters, thinking she was near death, got too close. Winged Mother struck with her last defense. Her teeth sank into one wizard and sheared him in half. His lower half lay at her feet, and she threw the rest of him at his companions. One of them struck out in anger, and an unseen force pierced the crown of her head. Unlike the dragons before her, the two-legged beasts did not get her magic. The magic dies with the dragon.

The warriors of my clan and I raced to find the Winged Mothers and younglings.

How did they have the knowledge to hurt us?

What remained of the Winged Dragons was tracked and attacked without reprieve by the two-legged beasts. Exhaustion crept through my clan, and hidden places were becoming harder to locate. Sometimes we stopped only to have them find us within the passing of a few thousand beats.

We stopped at floating ice peaks. With our icy breath, we were able to make them large enough for the dragons left to rest. A moon-cycle had passed since we felt we could relax. It felt like I had only shut my eyes when someone shook me awake and informed me the ones standing watch had spotted something approaching.

When I rose and stared across the sea, I saw dragons, small ones.

“Go get Narown,” I instructed the youngest of my clan, standing with the remaining Winged Dragons.

I hoped answers were coming.

The answers were not the ones I expected. I learned the truth that dark-cycle. When they came after us, they had killed several Spirit Dragons. Significant magic dwells within these small dragons. They can heal wounds, and they see much.

“They attacked my clan many cycles before yours. That is how they have been locating you and how they know fire is your deepest weakness,” Adner’s voice wavered in shame. “I have been looking for your clan ever since.”

He also told us we must flee from the region we call home, and a better place awaited us.

“We need to find it, and I believe I have located it,” he told me.

“No more two-legged beasts?” I asked.

“No more two-leggeds.”

I glanced at my mate.

“Do you believe him?” She paused, then asked, “Do we have a choice?”

The final question was simple to answer. We had no choice. For the blood of my clan, I had to believe him.

After we were promised no more foul monsters, a colony of them lay ahead of us. Adner had done right by us. The dragon clans were forced to relocate in the middle of the dark-cycles far too often because the two-legged beasts were close, but we had not lost one dragon to the paws of our enemy since. Many moon-cycles had passed since then, for our clan was the first he contacted. Adner said without us, none would survive.

We spent the last several moon-cycles finding as many dragons as we could. The five Water Dragons were the last ones, and Adner could sense no more. Then we started inland, hoping for a place of peace, fearing no place existed to make one.

Adner

I had thought it best to fly ahead, knowing what awaited us. I knew where we needed to be, and much was to be done prior to us making our next journey to our new home. Winark was the hardest to work alongside. He hated two-legged beasts, and getting him to understand they were not all bad was impossible. I did not wish the two-legged beasts in the colony to be hurt, because we needed them. The Water Dragons needed care, the one with a newling coming was the primary one in need. She would give birth soon, and Water Dragon fathers put their newlings into their pouches. This newling’s father died, saving her and his mate. Other male Water Dragons survived, but their pouches were ill-prepared for a newling. We had to figure something out, and I believed the two-legged beasts facing us were the answer.

The Mothers’ Cycles stopped, for they were no longer healthy enough to lay viable newling eggs. We were unable to stop long enough for the few eggs that held life to hatch, and none survived in transit. Precious few younglings were among our numbers. The Winged Dragons had lost the entirety of their younglings and newlings. So had my clan.

We are small dragons, and we had little warning of their approach. We should have known they were coming; I should have known. My greatest fear then was that one of our males, stricken with the bloodthirst, merely sought the demise of a clan. I know better now.

The two-legged beasts arrived, gathered the males guarding the Cave of the Newlings and harvested them. Then the monsters turned to the harmless, killing the young and destroying the eggs of the unborn. The females were hunting small game, and a few males were foraging in the forest outside our colony.

When they returned, they found the Cave of the Newlings filled with their younglings, newlings, and the undeveloped ones lying among the eggshells that were supposed to protect them, devoid of their soul energy. As what remained of the clan mourned their inconceivable loss, the two-leggeds ambushed them. The remaining females of the clan fought with might beyond them with spears, teeth, and claws, but the two-legged beasts prevailed.

My mother, Spearlia, was one of the slain that sun-cycle. With her last breaths, she told the able-bodied of her clan to run. Her eyes fell upon me.

“My son,” she whispered, clinging to my paw, “save dragonkind.”

As we raced through the dark sky, I understood what I must do.

With Seemia at my side, we found a willow tree, and I began my search for all dragonkind and a new dwelling.

If my visions were correct, we needed to complete deeds before we could move to our new home. A rare convergence of natural energies merged in the colony’s region. I believed we could do something concerning the horrors done to us, and I sensed nature was on our side.

In a narrow valley surrounded by forested mountains, on a knoll sat the colony. The two-legged beasts who made it had dark hair, eyes, and skin. In the colony were pawmade huts of grass and wood. They could see the entire valley and anything that was coming from their position. The colony’s warriors stood ready and few females and younglings were in sight.

“Adner,” one of my younger clansdragons spoke up. “Let me go. You stay here. If they decide they do not want to talk and instead shoot, you will be here to figure something else out.”

I glanced at the young one.

“I will not send one of you into something that I will not do myself. This is the intended way. If their arrows fly and pierce me, that is the true path. You will move forward from there, for my death will open the door we need.”

I spoke no more and gave them no time to speak. I flew forward alone and, as I did, my eyes found their leader. He stood beside his brethren, ready to share their fate. As I came closer, I saw arrows pulled and ready for firing. Their leader raised his paw and whispered a few words. Though not put away, the warriors lowered the arrows, pointing them to the ground.

I continued my flight to the colony, keeping my eyes on the leader of the two-legged beasts. I heard murmurs aloud and impressions flowed through my head. The language was unknown to me. We had to establish a method of communication. We had stretched our lead because of our size and strength; even so, we only had several sun-cycles before their arrival.

The two-legged beasts would not cease.

Our pursuers sought all we possessed.

Ending our species made their labor more pleasant.

The two-legged beasts were violent beings. The ones before me were not. As I closed the distance, the colony’s long future flashed within my sight. These peaceful two-leggeds did not meet their end by the paws of the horrors that followed us. That fate approached from a group of their own, who gazed upon them and did not perceive kin, but as savages.

The real savages will be the ones who will lay waste to the occupants of this colony and their homes all for a plentiful resource, salt. I watched, in my head, as two-legged beasts, who spoke with a different tongue, used sticks that exploded. They took females and ended them with cruelty, their bodies treated with a brutality I still cannot bear to recall. Younglings who could not defend themselves had their soul energy beaten from them. Our kind would be gone and forgotten by the colony’s future newlings before that cycle arrived.

Myths, stories, and songs would be all that remains of dragons when that brutal period appeared.

I landed on the ground several sapling-lengths from the two-legged beasts, hoping they understood I meant no harm. I stood on my four paws, and the sliver of moonlight, which peeked through the clouds and the firelight washed over my white body. My kind are close in appearance. We are various shades of white. The same is true of our wings and fins; only the color is purple. The peaceful two-legged before me were smaller than the other two-legged beasts my kind had encountered. On all fours, my head was a bit higher than theirs.

They watched me for a long while with their dark eyes. Hoping they would think I meant no harm, I stretched out on the ground. Lying made my head the same height as theirs. Again, I remained still, waiting for them.

Their leader advanced with caution. His warriors grabbed him, shaking their heads. The colony’s leader removed their paws from him with a swift brush of his own, and he said something in their tongue. The leader continued advancing. He stopped, believing he was just out of reach of me. I could have shown him how wrong he was, but I lay still.

The peaceful two-legged spoke to me in his tongue, as if speaking to a youngling. He touched his chest.

“Viho,” the leader said.

I understood he spoke his name, and I told him mine.

“Adner.”

I needed him to understand what was coming. One small dragon would be a little shocking. Hundreds of larger dragons pouring from and over the mountain would be terrifying. I started hearing the coming dragons and wondered when the ones before us might hear the first stomp or flap of wing. Drawings were the best way to communicate; I decided. By ill fortune, it was a slow method.

I started drawing things on the ground without pause. Behind us was a sizable but shallow lake. The surrounding ground was marshy. Sand was a better medium, and we used sand later. Right then, I used wet earth. I drew a picture of myself. I pointed to it, then at myself. I said, “Spirit Dragon.” He repeated it to me.

I then drew another figure and pointed to the ones with me. I drew several lines. After each mark, I pointed at my kin, hoping he understood each one represented a dragon. He smiled at me. I crafted a Fire Dragon form, showing that their kind were bigger than me.

“Fire Dragons,” I said, and he repeated again. I drew several lines, more than I did to indicate my kind.

I stood up and he scrambled to his feet. I lowered my head at once to show that I meant no harm. He raised his paw, signaling to the warriors that everything was fine.

I drew a picture of the Winged Dragons, who outmatched most dragonkinds in size.

“Winged Dragons.” He did not repeat; he only stared at the drawing.

He held up his paw in a tight-jointed curl. One by one, he lifted an appendage.

The leader was asking me how many; his thoughts made it clear. I drew fewer marks than I did with the Fire Dragons.

The leader of the colony peered at his warriors and the colony, then back at me.

I drew the largest of us. I made four marks and added a bump to one of them, with a small line tucked inside.

“Water Dragon,” I said.

He stared at what I drew and pointed at the one with the bump.

“gonẽ,” he said, then he folded his limbs, rocked them, and hummed a tune.

I hoped we understood each other. I felt he grasped most of it, but I feared he did not comprehend the magnitude of what was coming.

The leader looked up and over my shoulder. Finally, he heard what I had been hearing—the sound of Fire Dragons marching through the forest. He examined the pictures again.

I watched as the scope of the creatures heading toward us filled his mind, and there was panic. Then, good fortune to us all, it faded.

The leader of the peaceful two-legged raised his paws and pushed them forward and down. Then he pointed outward and again lifted his paws and pushed them forward and down.

He spoke words in his tongue that I still did not understand, but with his thoughts and gestures, I believed I comprehended what he meant.

Turning back to his colony, he went to prepare them for what was coming, and I flew back to my kin, for we had information to spread.

My Spirit Dragons did their job well, and so did the colony leader. When the first dragons appeared high above the mountains holding the enormous Water Dragons, gasps of distress rose from the colony, but no weapons fired. When the Fire Dragons emerged from the forest, it was their number, more than their size, that caught the two-leggeds off guard. Again, no arrows flew. 

I sensed angry dragons at the sight of the two-legged colony, but no one attacked. If one arrow flew or the sound of metal rang out, the dragons, who were at their limit, would have attacked them, but peace smiled upon us. We were exhausted, starving, and wounded. Dragonkind needed a place, and nature granted it to us.

I asked Winark about the location of the Shadow Box. He informed me they had placed it in a low, narrow cave on the far side of the mountain.

I met the leader at the same spot. No great meeting was held that dark-cycle. I bowed my head in thanks and lay down as exhausted as the others. The next sun-cycle was certain to travel slow. I had starving dragons, ones desperate for care, and a newling on the way.