She hasn't returned yet. It keeps getting colder. My clutch won't last unless it becomes warm again.
Oh, I wish my daughter had returned. I hope dearly that she isn't dead. It's been nearly half a year. Out of my two clutches, 4 out of 13 have been duds, never to hatch.
She should be laying eggs now, if she still lives. I hope she has the sense to find a mate soon. It's been almost a year, so she'll be about a year and a half old now. My clutches have begun to be a decent amount; as I have laid another 3 clutches, totalling 27 living eggs, and a total of 7 duds.
I know I am meant to die soon. I hope that my daughter will return soon, so she can care for her siblings. My gut says she'll come back, and I believe in that. I know she'll care for them as her own. I can hope that she's found a mate, to help her care for her siblings. It's been near a century, and I can no longer lay any more eggs. The clutches I have lain can tell that I am going to die. They refuse to hatch. They will hatch when she returns. I know it.
I will give her he name now, though it is long overdue. I scratch into the cave floor;
'Your name is Fiery Protector of Dragons, my daughter. I don't believe I ever told you my name. It was 'Eternal Mother of Dragons.' Name my sons and daughters well, Fiery Protector of Dragons. Name the daughters when they lay their first clutch, and name the males when they fight each other. You will know their names; they are your hatchlings now.'
I take my last breath, my body slowly dying. As I leave this world, my last thought is:
'Feed them with what remains of my body, Fiery Protector…'
