Epilogue
A scaly nose lifted from the entrance of an ice cycle covered cave to sniff the air as the wind blew fiercely across the snow covered grounds outside. The creature snorted and turned back to the depths of the cavern.
If you were to look at the entrance of the cave from the outside looking in, you wouldn't have thought it to be a very large cave, and that was the precise reason these creatures had picked this location.
The sounds of talons clacking against the cold, hard stoned floor echoed against the walls as the large, muscular legs coursed there way down the entryway.
Any fool would pass this cave by, for fear of being swallowed by the darkness of the entrance alone, and there hadn't been a mortal in these parts for many years, foolish or otherwise. No doubt one with enough bravery, (or curiosity, whichever way you look at these things) might just brave into the depths of the cave for refuge from the cold, but that would be very rare, for even the bravest of men would have enough sense to avoid camping in a cave so dark. You never know what creatures might inhabit lairs like these. Though I doubt anyone would ever suspect the creatures that lay huddled together deeper in the cave.
The great lungs of this creature breathed deeply as it continued its way down to the heart of the cave. Wisps of air could be seen in the cold, rising from the scaled nostrils. It lowered its neck as the ceiling dropped dramatically and grasped the ground with its large talons as the earth slanted downhill. It was nearly crawling on its belly, when, finally,
It blinked hesitantly as it stepped into the brilliantly bright canyon beyond. Jewels sparkled from the ceiling, nearly forty stories high above. They also shone brightly against the walls, stretched as far as was able to be seen by human eye. But for these eyes, no, these eyes didn't take in the jewels all around. These eyes were far too used to them by now. In fact, the sparkling splendor had become quite bothersome at times. Instead, these eyes took in the ground below, where, stretched about lazily, (as was there custom) lay thirty or more Dragons.
White as the snow covering the grounds beyond these walls, the Dragons yawned, roared, and stretched their magnificently vast wings as they awoke from their long nights rest.
Many of the younger Dragons were already leaping about merrily, butting heads or jumping on their not-so-enthusiastic parents. The Dragonlings were darker then the older Dragons. Their skin was a light grey color. The ones a year or older were just starting to grow out their scales. The younger Dragonlings still had webbed skin and thin wispy wings.
The parents kept close watch over their young ones, but not as close watch as the new mothers were of their eggs. It was near that time. The mothers had cared for their eggs for little over a month, but it was time for the eggs to take the dangerous journey north during winter. Every year around this very time, the end of winter, the fathers would fly north with their eggs for almost three months. A journey north would normally take a full grown Dragon a mere amount of days, but in the three months they traveled with the egg, they must fly slowly and carefully, landing in different lands where the weather varied. They usually paused halfway to the north for about a month where it was warmest. This helped in the fertilization process of the egg. It needed the proper amount of warmth, and it certainly wouldn't be able to find that in Antarctica where the dragons resided. When the egg was warmed to the correct temperature, it would be carried to the northern herd, where it would be hatched.
The mother would fly from Antarctica to the north in the last week the father would be carrying the egg. Because the mother would be so exhausted from caring after the egg, she would rest those three months the father would be gone, and then meet the father in the north for the hatching of the egg. But sometimes, things wouldn't go as smoothly as this process sounds, and that is how our story is formed. The mothers tensed as they nudged their eggs with their noses, breathing in the scent of the youngling within, and brushed heads with their mate for the last time for three months - or never.
The Dragon fathers shot themselves into the sky outside the cave, stretching their wings towards the great unknown, clutching their eggs tightly in their great clawed grasps as the wind rushed around their hard scales.