Chapter 1: Teacher of the Year

I wonder what Moon is doing right now...

Is she alright?

Is she safe?

Is she... happy? Winter squeezed the extra thick piece of charcoal pincered between his talons. I wonder if she's... with...

His eyes closed and he took a deep breath. It didn't matter. It didn't matter if she was with him or if she was completely alone.

Sure, he'd heard that they'd gotten together. He'd heard from her, from him, and from Turtle and Anemone... and from others. He'd heard it a million times from Kinkajou―who refused to shut up about it―and he'd heard it from himself, over and over and over again.

Not that it matters. He thought. It doesn't matter. Not to me. In fact, I'm happy about it; I'm happy for Qibli.

He sighed again, and sank a bit further into his chair.

It matters so much...

His brow furled.

No! No, it doesn't! It doesn't matter at all! He sat up a bit straighter in his desk. I am Winter of the IceWings and I am not going to let something as... as petty as this make a fool of me. I am better than this. I don't need Moon... Not for anything more than a friend.

He looked down at the empty sheet of paper before him and squeezed the charcoal again.

Right?!

He took another breath and looked up. His head went from one side to the other, scanning the room. He was in history class with Webs. His claw-mates around him listened to Web's lecture, and then scribbled down notes on their papers with their charcoal, as if everything were okay, as if everything were just the way it was supposed to be.

He sighed again, and sank back down.

Who am I kidding...

It was unlike him. Normally he was so powerful, so stoic, so independent... What had changed? Ever since they'd trapped the Darkstalker back under the mountains, he'd felt... off. As if things were wrong, and were slowly crumbling to a wronger state.

Maybe, he'd thought many times, it was having no home to go back to.

It had felt weird immediately after the war, after all the excitement with his tribe and the 'king of the Nightwings' had died down-but that was normal, right? To wake up one morning and realize 'oh yeah, I'm banished from my home, from my tribe, from my entire life,' and now without the added benefit of a world threatening sociopath to help distract me, and then to feel a bit depressed because of it. Just a bit. No, not even that, a bit... off-put. That was all. He had just needed some time to adjust.

And he had adjusted. He'd traveled to Possibility and met other Icewings like him, ones who didn't care about the hierarchy or royalty or any of the other rules and regulations that had turned his life into what it was. He'd enjoyed their company, and he still counted them among his friends.

He'd studied scavengers―or as he now called them, 'the scavengers.' He'd known for awhile they were more than they were made out to be, more than mindless animals. And he'd had an amazing time exploring this further, discovering a bit more about their capabilities and their immense complexities.

Even though his trip out in the field was on extended hiatus for school, he had no plans of stopping. He wanted to be a professor. Or a keeper. Or a diplomat. He wanted to be the head of the scavenger den in New Possibility.

He had all sorts of friends, dreams, passions, opportunities. The world was so much wider than it had ever been before. Things were no longer defined by tribes, or limited to war, or held in one barren place by a walls and aristocracy. His freedom filled a Moon-sized void in him; a void that desperately needed filling.

Winter sighed again. He looked down at his blank paper wistfully, and began to doodle absentmindedly on the side. A dragon. Dark, with silver tear drop scales by her eyes.

But he had two voids in his life now. For those months after the defeat of Darkstalker, he'd kept himself busy enough to forget the pain of losing Moon. He buried the pain of her absence in his life with new and old friends, and he'd buried the pain of knowing she could never again be truly present in his life with his study of scavengers-but what was left to bury the pain of not having a home?

He released another silent sigh, this time slower, his jaw quivering as the air slid from his nose.

This is so unlike me. He thought, his energy from before entirely gone. This is... so, so unlike me.

"Well."

Winter's head jerked up. His clawmates had all turned to peer at him, some of them waiting for the right moment to begin laughing, others already chuckling.

"I'm assuming you're drawing something history related, Winter," Webs leaned in. Winter quickly covered his drawing with both talons. "Because we're in history class and I would think in history you'd be doing something involving history."

"I-It's nothing!" Winter barked, blushing furiously. The intensity of his reaction sparked a sudden laughter throughout the class.

"I'm sure." Webs replied with a dull tone. "I don't actually care what it is. Just pay attention and don't make me come over here again."

Winter scowled at the mocking eyes of his clawmates and then he scowled at Web's back. He turned toward the sheet of paper on his desk. His normally cold face radiated warmth and his teeth grinded.

I hate it here. I hate it everywhere without Moon... I hate her for what she turned me into.

He swallowed. He felt his body tighten up.

I don't mean that, I don't mean that, I don't mean that...

He sighed again, and then again, and a third time a few moments later. He repeated his mantra in his head until he felt he believed it, until he felt he'd made up for the offhanded thought, and then he let the words fall away, into a new chain of depressing self-obsession.

So unusual. So, so unusual...

With each sigh, he sank lower into his chair, until he was as low as before. But this time, he didn't doodle. He just stared at his picture, with one talon casually blocking it from peeking eyes.

And then the door to the class opened, and a familiar snout peered in.

"Hi, Webs. Sorry to inter-"

"-Wonderful," Webs threw his talons up in exasperation. "Another interruption."

Sunny pursed her brow with frustration, but regained her composure a moment later. "It's nice to see you too, Webs. I'm sorry to interrupt, but the new student has arrived."

"...And you thought you'd just plop her down in the middle of a class? Why am I not surprised?"

Sunny frowned. "I thought it might be a good chance to introduce her to everybody. You know, while they're all here?"

Webs sighed, and taking this as an invitation, Sunny walked in with the new girl in tow.

Winter watched this mysterious, dark orange dragon enter, each ginger step making his eyes grow a bit wider. She looked a lot like Sunny, except darker, wider, and more... beautiful.

And tall. Taller than a lot of the males in the class. Almost as tall as him.

"Okay everybody! As you probably just heard from my spirited conversation with Webs: we have a new student at the academy!" She clapped her talons together and glanced over at the new girl, who was holding her talons together in front and looking shyly down at her claws. "Exciting, isn't? Her name is Summer. She is a special guest and won't be joining as a part of any tribe. She'll be fit into a winglet, but we haven't quite worked out which one yet, but we'll get back to you all soon! She is going to be joining you guys for history today so make sure to be nice and make her feel welcome!"

Sunny stood there for a silent moment and evaluated the class. Her smiled started to fade. She turned to Summer and whispered something in her ear, and without looking at the class once, Summer whispered back into Sunny's ear and then returned to staring down toward the floor.

"Okay," Sunny began. "I can tell by the looks on some of your faces that you're wondering... um, well, you're probably curious why she isn't coming as apart of a tribe...." Sunny paused and looked over at Summer with an uncertain expression, but Summer didn't budge. "I'm sure a few of you have guessed it already, but Summer is a hybrid. Like myself. I mean, really like myself." She chuckled and promptly cleared her throat. "Summer is half Sandwing and half Nightwing."

Summer's head moved up to face the class in tandem with the small gasp that had been emitted by the few students who'd not put the pieces together sooner.

Judging by the shyness she'd exhibited up until that moment, Winter had expected her to keep her eyes on her claws and to only look up to find her desk. If she did show the courage to meet their eyes, she'd look back at them shy, vulnerable, afraid, bashful, possibly even angry or defensive. Maybe charmingly or sweetly. He'd expected anything other than the expression she wore now. Anything other than that smile.

Why does she look so... confident all of a sudden. Like she's mocking us. Like she is standing over us.

It was a look Winter knew too well from his days living with aristocrats who worshiped a wall. It was a look of 'I am better than you.'

Reflexively, his jaw tightened.

Of all the... As soon as she walks in...! What gives her the right to-! His thoughts were cut short the moment she began moving to find a seat.

Another thing he'd learned from those high-on-the-wall types was that looks of mockery contorted as one walked; they changed as one looked from subject to subject, as one moved among the herd. Yet her eyes remained steady, and her smile soft, and with each gentle step she took, what he'd taken for mockery looked more like confidence―confidence crossed with... a sort of flagrant disinterest.

Winter studied her curiously as she moved closer to him.

What a strange look. Why look up like that after pretending to be shy? Why make a face like THAT?

His thoughts were cut short again. He pulled in a quick, silent breath, as Summer moved in his direction, her eyes on the desk next to his. He watched her fixedly, staring with almost squinting eyes at the shape of that smile and the curves of her narrow snout...

She turned to face him.

Snap!

All eyes in the room turned in his direction. Winter stared down with dismay at the thick stick of snapped charcoal, half of it in his palm, half of it on the floor rolling in Summer's direction.

The room erupted with laughter.

Webs shook his head and sighed. "Again, Winter? I don't think I can get a thicker piece of charcoal than that. I don't think a thicker piece of charcoal exists." He sighed again. "You're just going to have to make due with what you have there."

The class started to calm down, but a few students were still giggling. Winter looked down at the paper, quivering with anger, his cheeks blushing furiously.

"Perfect," Summer said suddenly, all eyes turned to her. "I needed something to write with." She bent down with the grace of a cheetah and lifted the chunk of charcoal from the ground. As she came up, her eyes met with Winter's. She wasn't smiling anymore, but she had a look about her. It conveyed something similar to the smile from before, except now weightier and less blatant, and aimed specifically at him.

A few of the dragonets giggled.

Webs cocked a brow. "That's quite alright. I can get you a fresh piece, assuming you can hold it with a little less forcethan Blizzard-claws over here."

Winter scowled at him, and now, imbued with new found anger, he scowled at all the mocking, silly faces looking at him.

"That's okay. Blizzard-claws actually made it nice and cold. It should make it crisper, which should help my abominable handwriting."

Winter looked over at her, trying to hide his surprise.

"...I don't think it works that way," Webs went on. "But, I don't really care either. Can we please just get on with the lesson?"

W-Wow...! Winter thought. That was...

A wave of anger and shame surged through him before he could finish the thought. His eye twitched with frustration and he nearly snapped the charcoal in his claws a second time.

She had no right-! I don't need her... her charity!

His teeth clenched. With one angry, determined motion, his head snapped in her direction, but he immediately regretted it. He saw her sitting there, looking down at her piece of paper, adjusting the charcoal in her talons, and suddenly it dawned on him―what was he supposed to say?

He'd felt as if he'd popped out of a bubble and was now suddenly in the room for the first time. His head snapped back down toward his paper.

WHY DID I DO THAT? DID SHE NOTICE? DID ANYBODY ELSE NOTICE? WHY AM I PANICKING SO MUCH?

But Summer didn't stir; nobody did. He swore he saw her head turn the slightest bit toward him, but he couldn't be sure, and he definitely wasn't turning toward her now to find out for sure.

Summer. He thought curiously.

A half Sandwing, half Nightwing. Like Sunny.

Like the future child of...

He closed his eyes and pushed the thought from his head. He didn't know why, but it felt disgusting to think about, on a lot of levels. Instead of that, he would think about...

Her... and that mysterious smile.