Despite the arduous flight during the hot-season, the long hunts in the dense, endless forest, and the enjoyable but exhausting nights of keeping a fledgling engaged and teaching him important life skills, time inexorably wore on. The individual nights passed agonisingly slowly, but the seasons swept by in a hazy blur, until they found themselves clawing at each other with the effects of the waning cooling-season.
Mating had not been on Wanderer's mind much since fleeing their territory, having neither desire nor motivation to assert his dominance over his mate while they were all so clearly exhausted. That fatigue was slowly eroding as they settled into a routine, building up their reserves again, putting on the fat he could now see was missing from Fleeting's normally elegantly rounded flanks. In ideal conditions they'd need a season to properly recover from their ordeal, but in this unassumingly harsh territory, it was longer than that, and they hadn't yet had enough time.
He stalked out of the den and took flight, feeling tense and agitated. The entirety of his hindquarters ached with need, but for the moment all he could do was try to ignore it – in contrast to their first cooling-season together, Fleeting was struggling to keep the two of them satisfied in her current state, even after having settled here for so long. She certainly tried, but there was a limit to how much she could do regardless of how creative she was, and with Dreamer stubbornly clinging to his strange Long-Paw thinking, or maybe just by preference, she was the only relief for either of them.
He barked down over the territory, cautiously so that the sound did not travel, then angled towards the response a short way around the mountain. It took him a little while, but he managed to locate the ledge in the bulge under the canopy, and backwinged into the trees to slip through them.
The ground met him sooner than expected, a flat and modestly-sized clearing beneath the trees that was surprisingly soft for being halfway up the mountain. "Sire!" Leaper barked excitedly, running up to him and climbing over his back. "We explored! Find nice place!"
Impressed, Wanderer crooned, looking around. It was a nice little place, actually, not too damp and with ample room to move around, feeling much more open and spacious than the den. The fresh air drifting across it was also nice, if somewhat cold.
Wanderer lowered himself to his haunches, letting Leaper slip off. An enquiring nose then brushed over his flank and up his side, pushing under his wing. "You smell weird," Leaper growled with confusion. "Also smell like Dam. She smell weird also."
"We are rutting," Wanderer purred to him, ducking his head under his wing to address the fledgling delicately scenting his foreleg. "Make us want much mating. Then, if we all are very happy, Dam maybe will have egg."
"All are happy?" Leaper asked, leaning forwards to scent Wanderer's nose. Wanderer just gave him a prompting croon, wanting him to work it out for himself. After several life-beats of tilted head and thoughtful dilated eyes, Leaper wilted a little. "Not think all are much happy," he mumbled, huddling in on himself.
Wanderer crooned reassurance, tucking his wing around his son to hold him close. "Not enough happy for have egg, no. But you helping us be happy." Leaper warbled happily as Wanderer nuzzled him with a loving purr.
A deep purr lifted his ear, Reaching watching as she walked from the trees. "Go play," he said to Leaper, nudging him, and the fledgling happily bounded off and out of sight. "When he get so big," he then groaned, staring after him.
"Wrrr, not always need play with him now," Reaching hummed fondly, walking up to Wanderer and sitting on her haunches. "He will hunt next warming-season, want to explore his territory. Maybe confuse him that you not mark it…"
Agreement, Wanderer chuffed. "I not think about that. We should tell him. But Dreamer grew like that also, so I know he not will be confused."
"I am confused," Reaching growled. "You are blood-kin, but mates also? He not had Nightstriker family? Lived with Long-Paws? I not understand."
Wanderer studied her. She was tense, as only to be expected while being in heat with no mates of her own. He was tense himself, but it wasn't as bad around her, his body recognising she wasn't one of his mates, and presumably she felt the same around him and Leaper. Probably why she was so happy to help mind their fledgling… but then she had always helped with whatever she could, wanting to show them kindness for helping her.
She knew them quite well too, in a strange sort of way. Normally she would have flown off on her own by now, as there hadn't been any sort of attempt at courting, but she didn't seem ready for that. Still, he didn't mind having her around, and it was certainly convenient to have the help.
"I will explain," he decided. She had been as open and honest with them as she could be, so while this wasn't really the best time to go through a long story, he settled down onto his chest and shielded himself from the wind with his wings to give some explanation of how Dreamer had grown up in a Long-Paw nest with no real sire or dam to speak of; omitting one small detail, of course.
She was not like the Lightstrikers, she asked questions and narrowed her eyes at a pawful of inconsistencies. Thankfully the nest hadn't treated Dreamer much better as a Long-Paw, and as Wanderer hadn't been present for much of it, he could claim ignorance on other things. She probably wouldn't care that he'd been a Long-Paw, but it wasn't his place to tell. She reminded him a bit of Dreamer himself, inquisitive and needing to understand things just for the sake of understanding them. Perhaps she was also finding her teeth, under the stress of her heat.
"Dreamer is strange to females," Reaching observed once he explained they'd flown that nest after getting their fire. "Not grew with any as fledgling… But you not are like that."
"I had my family, when I first hatched," he hummed; she already knew they'd been killed by the pack who had tortured her. "Dreamer had… not nothing, but not much. Thinks like Long-Paw sometimes." He chuckled to himself, "When we find Lightstriker nest, they were first females he saw. Was always aroused, but never mate himself. Females there were very aroused also, was very funny. They liked showing him they were female."
"They what?" Reaching barked incredulously, then tensed with wide eyes and tall ears. "I not know," she groaned, pawing at her face and stifling laughter. Enquiry, insistent, Wanderer warbled, and she wilted guiltily. "When he helped me… kill that bad thinking," she said slowly, peeking at him from under her paw. "I only could make water… only not fear… under his wing…"
Wanderer stared at her while that image played through in his head. Then he remembered it was Dreamer, and fell onto his side with such gripping laughter that he almost forgot about the tension clutching at his hindquarters.
"I not think was bad," she yowled over him, "but then next night I needed again, then he not would look at me, smell aroused, I not know if he courting me or if Fleeting do something like that with him-"
"Stop," Wanderer pleaded with a wheeze, pawing at her and struggling to draw in breath. He tried to calm himself to add something, but she was laughing too and kept setting him off even harder. "When Dreamer returned," he finally choked out, "he just growl at me, not want talk about it!"
Eventually the laughter subsided, leaving Wanderer in a much better mood. He still had an intense need to climb onto his mate, but this was nice too, the chill wind very refreshing with its crisp, clean scent this high up the mountain. Perhaps it was the influence of the cooling-season, as well as what they'd been talking about, but he found his thoughts wandering on certain winds. "What you want do?" he asked bluntly, and she glanced across at him with idle curiosity. "With us. You seem… good. Maybe. You will fly when warming-season comes?"
She stared ahead at nothing for many long moments, then took a deep breath. "I not know," she said simply, shrugging her wings. "Maybe this is strange… but when I think about leaving… I feel lonely. I never was alone, until… many bad things happen. Now I not am alone again, feel… happy, flying with your family. Is it bad I not want be alone?"
"No," Wanderer huffed vehemently. "We all were alone for much time. I think… that why we want help you. Also is nice having you here…" He could feel his instincts considering her, the natural progression of a Nightstriker flying with them for so long, but it didn't get far. "But we still not know what that hunter did," he crooned sadly, "not can trust…"
"Me," she finished for him. "You not can trust me." He didn't want to put it that way, it was more that he couldn't trust what had been done to her, but that was basically the problem either way. "I know," she crooned, more lightly than he would have expected. "I not trust me also. I still hurt, for losing my friend-mate. Still weaker than claws that hunt me while I sleep. When I am stronger, then I will know what I want."
Agreement, Wanderer chuffed, climbing to his paws. "I need bite my mate," he growled, no longer distracted from the needs of his body, and leaped from the ledge to bound off the treetops and fly back to the den.
As the world grew darker, the nights continued to grow colder. It seemed a bitter irony, that they could have either warmth or darkness, but not both; then again, perhaps it just meant there was something to enjoy about every season, instead of being totally miserable for half the year.
It was a strange cold that swept in from the south, one that still had not brought snow even weeks after their rutting. The air certainly felt cold enough for snow, but there was not even a scent of it on the wind. Not that snow was necessarily a good thing, it was just strange to go without it.
That cold was an ever-present feeling in Dreamer's mouth and nose, chilling down to his throat. He spent most lights with his head tucked under his wing, breathing stale air trapped and warmed by his body. As expected, their little cave was not the warmest, but not as cold as a larger cave would be, and it was not so bad all huddled up to each other, sharing wings and limbs to keep everything warm. The cold-season was even somewhat pleasant, with their bodies slowing down, feeling heavy and lethargic but only needing food every five or six nights, and the long nights were very comforting with the darkness they brought. Their little spout of water had never ceased, though it was constantly freezing in strange and wonderful ways that usually needed breaking off before they could drink, and leaving a treacherous swathe of ice around it.
That peace lasted into the heart of the cold-season… until Dreamer woke one light to a strangled bark. Everything seemed okay, so he tentatively drifted off again, only to be woken again. Not barking, but coughing.
Fleeting was nudging Wanderer awake, looking worried, so Dreamer blinked back his lethargy and stretched with a questioning rumble. "I used all my fire," Fleeting whined, "not know what should do!"
Worried, Dreamer climbed to his paws, stepped over Reaching, and, noting how Fleeting was positioned, poked his head under her wing. Leaper was huddled to her side, curled up tightly, both shivering and panting. He smelled… wrong, somehow, like something that had been left too long in the sun.
"He is so warm already," Fleeting said quietly, nudging her head up alongside his. "Maybe we should try cool him…?"
"No," Dreamer huffed, pulling back and giving his head a shake. "His body knows what is best. It wants be hot? We can do that." His feeble Long-Paw body had survived many a fever under Gothi's advice. He carefully turned and gave Reaching's cheek a light nudge with his snout, though the way her eye opened suggested she had already been awake. "You can help? Need bring dead branches to here. Please…"
Agreement, she chuffed, rising to her paws with a yawn. Wanderer shot him a look with a flick of his ears, implying he could have gone, but Dreamer glanced significantly to Fleeting and levelly met his gaze; right now their mate needed support from someone she trusted completely.
Reaching leaped out of the cave, and Dreamer followed, beating his wings and thinking as quickly as his addled mind would allow. The forest was perpetually damp, despite getting little rain, and sticks on the ground would likely be thoroughly rotted. But he remembered a few places they were propped up…
By the time he had found a big branch, dragged it up to the den, and broken it into more manageable pieces, Reaching was flapping up with her own haul. Wanderer helped her pull the long, ungainly stick inside while Dreamer kept working, building a little fire near the back of the den. After glancing back and seeing they had sufficient wood, he spat a tiny shot of plasma at the pile he'd assembled, instantly lighting it.
"Not yet," he rumbled to Fleeting as she shuffled, "not warm enough. Need let it burn some." As it was, he could barely even feel the heat on his face as he leaned into the flames to position another stick.
Finally, as smoke began to fill the den, he chuffed to Fleeting and gestured to the fire. She tentatively rose, reaching around to grab Leaper by the scruff as she moved – the fledgling whined, a pained, miserable sound, curled up on himself with his tail tucked to his front and wings wrapped around himself. Dreamer had to coax him out of his curl so that they could lay him down comfortably, which became easier when Fleeting held him to the warmth.
He slumped to the ground the moment he was released, shivering and whimpering, his face scrunched with discomfort. But then he seemed to notice the warmth, tentatively reaching out with a paw to touch the flames, before unfurling a bit and shuffling up to wrap himself around them.
"Need let fire breathe," Dreamer hummed, holding Leaper's wing from smothering the fire while Fleeting nestled in behind him, wedging herself between the rough back wall of the den and their son. The wood rustled as he was nudged further into it, sending tiny embers drifting to the ceiling, but Dreamer just pawed the coals and loose ends back to the rest of it before adding another branch; apparently someone had got more while his back was turned.
Leaper kept trying to put his wing over the fire, get as much of himself around the warmth as he could, but after Dreamer nudged it back a few times Fleeting put her wing over him and held it down. Trapped between his warm dam and a hot fire, he finally stopped shivering and relaxed a little, though his breaths were still a bit heavy to be natural. A feeble little cough had Dreamer staring sadly at him, but there was nothing more they could do.
Dreamer chuffed confidence to Wanderer and Reaching, signalling they could go back to sleep, and they reluctantly lay down. He then shuffled up to the other side of the fire, careful to allow a channel of air to it but completely blocking Leaper off from the cool draught that drifted in from outside; what he wouldn't give for a door right now.
For the rest of that light, he let Leaper's coughing and little whines wake him to add more wood and keep the fire alive. When night fell, he gladly took Fleeting's position to get some proper rest, letting the others handle the fire from there. He woke up once, suddenly worried that he hadn't actually shown or explained to anyone what to do – but the fire was reasonably neat and tidy, so he just nudged the burned-off ends into the flames before drifting off again.
After sleeping through most of the night and devouring a meal provided by Wanderer, he was left awake enough to keep the fire burning. And so they rotated, providing Leaper what little food he would eat and occasionally holding his mouth open to trickle a splash of water into it from their own mouths. Endless nights of this, and he didn't seem to be getting any better… although he wasn't getting worse, either. Listening to his feeble little coughs was painful and saddening; Dreamer felt as helpless as the others looked.
The nights were difficult to keep track of, but at some point, the poorly fledgling suddenly started improving. His appetite gradually returned, and he started asking for water, blindly lapping at it as they trickled it into his mouth. The first time he opened his eyes seemingly since falling ill, he blinked blearily Dreamer, then the fire. "Sire eating my sticks again," he moaned, then curled up around the embers to grumble wordlessly. Dreamer shared a bewildered look with Fleeting, and then a chuckle.
They finally let the fire die that light, as Leaper seemed content to snuggle up under Wanderer's wing. The den was colder, though it was nice to be rid of the smoke; that probably hadn't helped kill the sickness, but the warmth had been more important. The cold-season suddenly returned to what it should have been, a lethargic routine of hunting and sleeping.
It had been a break to the monotony, but one they all could have done without. They were supposed to be safe in the cold-season, while dragons were slow and lethargic, the cold froze scents, and the nights were long and dark. They were supposed to be resting, recovering their strength and their fortitude, not worrying and constantly hunting firewood and dragging it up to the cave. Only the warming-season would tell how much it had affected them.
Calm, Wanderer crooned while he nipped and bit at Leaper, who yowled and writhed impatiently beneath the paw pinning him. Cold air still drifted in from the darkness outside, but it was a wet, mild cold, not the dry, frozen cold they had endured for two sky-ice-cycles, and it was fairly warm here at the back of the den while the others dozed.
He finally managed to get a grip on the thin fledgling-hide with his teeth, tugging it in short, sharp motions to tear it from the hide beneath. Leaper whined piteously, then hissed pain, warning, as Wanderer tugged maybe a bit too hard.
The hide finally pulled free, and Wanderer tossed it aside to lick at the new hide beneath. The fledgling was shedding a little earlier than the rest of them, they were still just scratching, nothing yet ready to come off, but Leaper's hide was a bit different. It visibly strained around his joints, and he'd been biting and clawing at it simply because of how confining it felt.
Something Wanderer remembered well. Of all of them, he was the only one to have hatched twice, to have been through all of this again with a more developed mind. He remembered things the others didn't, like how uncomfortable this particular shedding was, and why Leaper might have been ill-tempered recently.
With his shoulder now less restrained, the loose hide beneath being far more accommodating to his movements, Leaper tried to stretch his foreleg, then growled frustration as it still didn't quite fully extend. "Push it," Wanderer crooned gently, "but not too much. Not want tear it." Pulling the hide away was definitely better than stretching it until it tore over the new hide.
"I not like shedding," Leaper growled, rolling onto his back, then whimpered as Wanderer ran claws down his chest.
"Not is much bad when someone helps you," Wanderer said lightly, working at the hide around his foreleg to encourage it to split; it was a fiddly area, the hide looser around the flexible joint. "Maybe is annoying, but it because our hides are strong. Also it not will be this bad next warming-season. Only this uncomfortable because you are growing." Unconvinced, Leaper growled, which turned into a whimper as Wanderer found a good angle.
Leaper's egg had been about the size of Wanderer's paw. Now, that same paw did not look so big, and he did not need to restrain the strength of his scratches. Leaper also wasn't still trying to bite him, as he had done for his first shedding. He was reaching the limit of what he could learn through such idle play, needed more engagement and attention, but also becoming curious about the territory they were living in, eager to wander short distances on his own.
Paws swatted at Wanderer's leg, and he backed off to let Leaper twist upright and give himself a shake. He had grown so much over the cold-season, his back now reaching Wanderer's shoulder, still thin and lanky but otherwise not looking much like a fledgling now. Especially in the way he leaned back to chew his own hide, no longer unbalanced and uncoordinated.
Wanderer purred, nudging Leaper's wing with his snout to unbalance him. "Look how big you growing. Will need fight females away when you fly from us." Females and starting families were among the things they would teach him in the coming seasons, as well as fighting, hunting, and general survival. It would be a good opportunity to see what was beyond this stupid forest, take Leaper with them and explain how to find water and prey.
"Sire," Leaper drawled, glancing back at him. "I not am hatchling now."
"You still are our little fledgling," Wanderer hummed warmly, giving him a playful shove with his head. Leaper staggered, flaring his wings, but managed to remain upright.
Warning, Leaper growled, swiping back at him. "I am big," he declared, "will hunt all my fish myself! Just… need…" He tried stretching his leg again, then growled frustration and attacked it with his teeth.
"Fish would be nice," Wanderer agreed, feeling a little uneasy. "No fish here, but you can hunt with us after we shed."
"We can hunt fish when ice melts," Leaper explained confidently. "Then we have much fish! I like fish."
Wanderer sat there for two pawfuls of life-beats before figuring out what he was referring to. "That was our last territory," he said sadly, sympathetically. "Fish are there when ice melts. They not will come here…"
Leaper froze. "But fish come when ice melts…"
"Not here," Wanderer crooned quietly, leaning forwards to nuzzle him. But Leaper pulled back, his eyes wide and dilated with betrayal, before leaping over Dreamer and tripping over him instead, landing on his dam's tail, and stiffly bounding to the entrance of the den to throw himself out into the night.
"What that was?" Dreamer asked groggily while Fleeting licked at her tail with annoyed grumbles. Reaching hummed enquiry, lifting her head and blinking sleepily, before curling her tongue in a wide yawn.
"Leaper thought fish coming when ice melts," Wanderer rumbled before yawning himself.
"He remembers that?" Dreamer rumbled, also yawning, then curled to scratch at his neck with his hindclaws. "Is nice that he is picky. Not just happy he not is hungry. But grrr…"
Agreement, Wanderer huffed, stepping over to him and raking claws down his back to groaned approvals. There was a slight scuffle between the females, it seemed Reaching had decided she didn't need help and Fleeting had thoroughly disagreed, practically pinning her down to nip at her shoulders; Wanderer knew she still didn't quite trust the odd female, just as he himself didn't, but sometimes her attitude towards Reaching was as fleeting as her name suggested.
Unconcerned, Dreamer rumbled, turning away from the mouth of the den. "Still is night. He knows to not go far." Agreement, Wanderer chuffed, resuming his attack on Dreamer's hide and feeling his claws catch. With any luck, Leaper would be finished shedding by the time they started.
It would be nice to have new hide again, free of the scars they had accrued fighting the Death-Grippers. And then it would be back into the routine of hunting and teaching Leaper while they hid, and continued building their strength.
Slow, deliberate pawsteps across the damp ground, ears sharp and narrow eyes trained on the prey. This land-prey was big and fat, and the previous night's hunting had failed, but the hunger gnawing at Dreamer only lent him more focus and determination.
Four other shadows stalked through the forest nearby. He could not see them for the most part, not more than glimpses of movement, but had a fairly good idea of where they were simply from familiarity. He and Wanderer had circled around it, cutting off its escape for if it fled preemptively, while Fleeting and Reaching crept closer from behind. Leaper would be near Fleeting, taking cues and confidence from her, for this was his prey, his hunt. He needed to learn, to be able to hunt for himself one night, and they had done all they could to prepare him for it. They would help, but unless it got desperate, he would be the one to take the kill.
The first two attempts had not worked out so well, Leaper perhaps not understanding or realising what was at stake, not approaching the task quite as seriously as he needed to. A night of hunger was enough to put that into perspective. Not a harsh lesson, they didn't need to eat every night depending on how active they were, but enough to impress on him just how important this was, something he had never needed to understand before.
Dreamer was just getting into position when the shadows behind the prey twisted and grew, a pair of focused, gleaming eyes staring out from within them. This was their son, but not their little hatchling, something that was all too obvious to Dreamer in the moment. Not a hatchling, but a young male, beginning his journey towards independence. This time, he clearly knew this was no game.
How time could fly.
The prey, a female deer-like thing, remained oblivious, focused on tugging on a tuft of grass growing in the crook of a tree root. Four adults surrounding it was excessive, but for these early hunts they were giving Leaper every advantage, at least until he got some experience.
Every hunt was slightly different, difficult to plan ahead for. Was it better to distract it now? Or would that only make it more wary, and they were better off leaving it with its head pushed up against the roots of the tree? Dreamer resolved to discuss it with Leaper after, talk about how they could only try one thing and hope it worked. Or maybe he would figure it out on his own. Parenting was much the same, come to think of it.
Leaper's paw made the barest of sounds as it brushed the ground, which would have alerted the prey in the quiet forest however distracted it was. Wanderer's quiet growl from Dreamer's side took its attention, but Leaper had panicked and committed. The prey bolted as he leapt at it, his claws raking its side but only scoring light cuts, and then it was racing away from the two dangers it knew of – towards Reaching, who leapt out at it and dragged her claws through its flank.
The prey stumbled, legs kicking wildly in an attempt to regain its footing, and this time Leaper did not just give up, already racing after it and leaping onto its rump. He suffered a bit of a beating from its hindlegs as it bucked, but kept his balance with flared wings and managed to tangle and weigh on it enough to drag it to the ground, where he leapt onto its back, wrestled its head back, and sank his teeth into its throat.
Dreamer trotted to a halt next to them as the others caught up, the prey twitching and struggling while Leaper firmly held onto it. His eyes were wild, narrowed to slits, while the prey slowly went limp, its eyes glazing over. He kept hold of it even after it slumped in his grip, dead.
He blinked, eyes dilating as he realised it was over, and slowly extricated himself. Its head heavily hit the ground as he dropped it, staring at it in dumbfounded disbelief, before looking up at everyone with a tentative smile.
Wanderer tackled him with a happy bark, and Leaper shrieked as he was dragged to the ground and licked over his face. He fought his sire, as pointless as that was, but was soon purring and whining happily at the loving licks over his throat.
Fleeting trotted over to nuzzle and lick him as well, while Dreamer just purred from afar, as there was no more room to crowd around him. "Good hunt," he chuffed to Reaching, who was also watching warmly.
"He had good teaching," she crooned as she sat on her haunches to sniff and lick her claws.
"Wanderer is good teacher," Dreamer agreed. "I not know if I am that. I think I do other things better."
Reaching glanced over at him and snorted. "You do good also. But he has good thinking for fledgling, I think you do that." She stretched, walking her paws forward and flaring her wings; it was still odd to see her without her many scars, having shed them with the hide they'd been inflicted on.
Dreamer yelped as Leaper suddenly tackled him, taking his attention to briefly rough with each other. His son darted in for quick strikes, scoring a few good bites, but he was reckless, still riding his adrenaline high, and Dreamer quickly grappled him to affectionately chew his head.
"Go eat," Dreamer chuffed, relaxing his grip. Leaper hopped free, gave himself a vigorous shake, then pounced the prey to eagerly tear into it. Watching him happily and eagerly rip through the pelt with his teeth, Dreamer wondered if there would be any more fuss over fish. That would be a relief, one of many coming in quick succession.
After eating his share, leaving Wanderer to pick over the bones, Dreamer gave his face a cursory clean and stretched out the light stiffness from tracking down the prey. Leaper, having finished earlier, was playing with Fleeting, re-enacting the takedown with minor changes; he was throwing himself into it with enthusiasm, soaking in every unwitting lesson.
A brief fire lit the area while Reaching flamed a circle to lie on, purring and crossing her paws in the resulting embers and ash to watch them. "You look good," Dreamer warbled to her, then huffed amusement as she proudly lifted her wings a little. "Your hide also, but I mean you." She seemed… less like she was lurking and watching from the shadows, more content to just be herself.
Strangely, her wings fell a little at that. "I am trying," she warbled back. "I still not feel good. Still not like noise, still have bad thinking… But not want fear claws that hurt me. Know that is bad thinking." She gently nosed at her foreleg, staring at it. "Helps that my own hide not reminds me now. Huff, Lashing would roar at me now if she lived. But I never feared her teeth…"
"Your friend-mate?" Dreamer asked, relaxing onto his side and perking his ears in interest.
Reaching wilted, clearly not having meant to drop that name. "Yes," she said reluctantly. "Her tail. She was quick to… everything, wanted everyone know when she was happy or annoyed. That tail woke me much."
"My first nest… lost nest-kin often. I not really have family there, not like this, so I not know that loss. But they always felt much sad when family die… then be happy. Happy for good memories they give us, for what life they lived. Miss them… but remember what was good." He shrugged, conscious that he hadn't really lost anyone he'd been attached to and was speaking to someone who had lost so much. "I always liked that idea."
Reaching didn't reply, but her tail twitched back and forth as she went back to watching Leaper chase Fleeting around the trees.
The seasons wore on as constantly and quickly as ever. Uneventful, and more peaceful now that their primary burden was not only more independent, but also helping to hunt, becoming more experienced and capable with every night. Before Dreamer knew it, the stuffy air of the hot-season was blowing over the land. He found himself wishing for rain on more than one occasion just to freshen the air, feeling somehow confined by the dry heat, but a long drink and wetting himself under the spout of water was revitalising enough to cope.
Leaper's curiosity had expanded after the cold-season, and his presence became almost rare as he explored. Occasionally they would follow from a distance to confirm that he never went far – he didn't seem to mind – but he just explored the boundaries of what they considered this territory, and only flew at night. Occasionally he tried hunting on his own, and sometimes he even caught something, proudly sharing what he could not eat himself.
Dreamer reflected on all this as he lightly dozed on the ledge Leaper and Reaching had found before the cold-season, the ever-present trees shading him from the waning light. After scraping the rotting mulch off it to reveal the rock beneath, then regularly flaming it to lie on, it was one of the more pleasant places to relax… and do other things, when the mood struck them. Fleeting's calm, relaxed breathing nearby was pleasant background to his thoughts, despite the rousing scents still stuck to his snout.
Mating was only just starting to become a regular thing again, Fleeting occasionally upending her tail in his face, or just tackling him and trying to pin him on his back; sometimes she even succeeded, though he never went easy on her. He still didn't want to think about the future, just wanted to enjoy the peace of the moment and make the most of the time with his family. He knew that one night he would need to face those demons, especially with Leaper eventually needing to fly the nest…
The thought of him venturing off into the world would be terrifying at the best of times, but now it was unbearable, filling Dreamer with anxiety. The old Nightstriker in the canyon had mentioned many firelings simply going missing, hunted down and killed without ceremony or sendoff, unbeknownst to their families. Reaching and her friend-mate had encountered that very fate. Sending Leaper off into such a world was unthinkable.
He huffed, distracting himself with the sounds and scents of his mate. Even thinking about thinking about it was making him feel weak and weary all over again, that was something to do when he was more rested…
Wingbeats pricked his ears, and he lazily tilted his head to see Leaper slipping through the gap they had made in the canopy from passing through it so many times. Maybe it was the thorn his thoughts had been brushing against, but something about the way the fledgling was moving was worrying.
"Sire," he barked quietly, and Dreamer rolled to his paws, feeling uneasy. "I found thing. Think you should see…" Dreamer glanced at Fleeting, who didn't look ready to get up, and chuffed affirmation as he rose to his paws and quickly stretched.
They took to the sky with haste, Leaper's wingbeats now firm and smooth as they picked up speed, heading around the mountain. Dreamer growled as they kept going around to the other side, and Leaper wilted a little, ducking his head and flattening his ears; he knew the area around the lake was to be avoided. Still, he seemed worried about something, so Dreamer put that aside for the moment.
Leaper led him towards the lake, descending to the canopy a fair distance short of it. Caution, Dreamer huffed as they slowed, backwinging into a quiet landing in the thick canopy to carefully slip through it; they were hardly silent, but they would not be heard from afar. After climbing down the trunk of a tree, Leaper scented around a bit, then prowled off through the forest, wings tight to his sides and hackles bunched; whatever he'd found, he didn't like it.
Finally, they came across a shallow hole in the ground, which Leaper gestured to from behind a tree. Dreamer approached warily, desperately needing to know what his son wanted to show him but unwilling to rush – a caution that, to his utter dread, proved entirely warranted.
Death-Gripper scents. They permeated the dirt around what he could now see was a land-prey skull that Leaper had dug up, as his scent was present too. A meal they had buried to hide their presence… from a distance. They had no hope of hiding their tracks, just as Dreamer had no hope of hiding the scents he and Leaper had left already.
That didn't mean they were found yet… but Dreamer didn't like it. He quietly bounded back to Leaper, huddling close to whisper. "Stay quiet. These hunters are very dangerous, want to hunt us. You know of other scents?"
"Near water," Leaper replied shakily, eyes dilating in fear; not only for the flash of teeth Dreamer shot him for disobeying. "I find that, then this. Not know what think…"
"They are here for much time?" Dreamer probed. Ideally he'd get a scent himself, but everything now carried risk; even just staying here, though they were shrouded in night.
"Pawful of nights," the fledgling whimpered.
Not just a stopover then; they were hunting. "Come," Dreamer huffed before prowling up the nearest tree and taking flight as quietly as he could, wincing at the sounds they inevitably made. Grimmel didn't know where they were yet, maybe didn't even know they were there… although he would soon. They would probably find Leaper's scent by the lake, and around the unearthed carcass; thankfully, he'd been taught to only venture out at night, when the darkness protected him.
Still, it was a relief to return to find nothing on fire or anything. Dreamer first swooped past the ledge he knew Fleeting was resting on to quietly bark urgent, summons, then raced to the den. He had no idea where Wanderer or Reaching were, but were probably safe enough until dawn broke. They just had to wait.
"Sire?" Leaper asked tentatively as he ducked into the den after him. "What… those scents mean…?"
Dreamer glanced back at him, then sighed, letting his head and wings droop. "You remember our last territory?" he asked as Fleeting entered the den, eyes wide and worried. "Bad hunter-pack attacked us there. They followed us for many nights, that why we needed to flee… That why we hiding here, also why we not should go near water." He shot Fleeting a significant look with that.
Her eyes narrowed to glare at Leaper as she caught his meaning. "We tell you that is dangerous," she hissed at him, and his tail tucked between his legs as he was ushered to the back of the den.
"I think he knows already," Dreamer hummed, not wanting to be too hard on the fledgling. Not when they now had some very difficult decisions to make. He was already clearly terrified, not even complaining at the rough grooming Fleeting gave him, hissing under her breath as she scented his paws.
Dreamer lay down to think while they waited for Wanderer and Reaching, growling internally at himself that he'd put it off for so long. They should have had a plan for this, should already know what they needed to do. But no, he'd been far happier being ignorant. Stupid…
But one thing he quickly realised as he went through those long-shelved thoughts… he didn't want to go through all this again, running and hiding and letting Grimmel dictate their actions. But staying and fighting was certain to end in death, he knew enough of his opponent to know that. He was too careful to rush into things, would be hunting them down during the long hot-season lights while he had the advantage, and he had more dragons to search with; in a race to find where the other slept, the odds were stacked heavily in his favour.
There was no question that they needed to flee again. The real question Dreamer was pondering… where would they go? If Grimmel had found them here of all places, where else could they flee to? And if he was hunting again, had he already replaced the Death-Grippers they had killed? How much of their escape last time had been because they'd fought him off first? Given how disastrously that had nearly gone, Dreamer wasn't keen to try it again…
Somehow, time passed quickly while he thought, almost too quickly. His thoughts were still a huge jumble of facts and guesses when Wanderer and Reaching finally returned, wings giving little flicks to guide their outstretched claws to the mouth of the den to climb inside. Whatever friendly quip Wanderer had been about to make died in his throat as he saw Dreamer's grim expression and Fleeting comforting Leaper at the back of the den, and his twitching snout led him to the trace scents still on Dreamer's paws, from treading the same ground as the Death-Grippers.
He pulled back, eyes narrow and teeth sliding into his open mouth. He already looked ready to fight, though it clearly terrified him. Reaching was backing up against the wall of the den, her wings high and tense, perhaps just as terrified and looking ready to flee. At the back of the den, Leaper huddled to his dam, who held him protectively under her wing.
Whatever they did, it was up to Dreamer. "I not want do this again," he snarled, standing to pace as his thoughts suddenly snapped into clarity. The last year or so that they'd spent in this territory had been, for the most part, pretty miserable; even when they'd reached a point they could start to relax, that was all spent recovering. "Not even think we can do this again. We needed kill many of their wing-hunters, then find this territory, just for this much time. He only will find us quicker if we do less."
"I not think we can fight them," Wanderer bit out, a frustrated growl rumbling in his throat.
"No," Dreamer agreed. "We not can fight them. They will be more careful now, wary of us. But we not will fight them."
He laid out his thoughts, the sky-fire beginning to fly as he finally reached his conclusion. It was a difficult, dangerous course of action, one that everyone needed to understand and agree on, to be completely on board and follow through with it. Though as much as he didn't like it, it was clear they all trusted his judgement and his decision. There was not so much as a complaint. Plenty of anxiety and fear, but no complaint.
"Fine," Dreamer growled, stalking to his usual spot and dropping to the ground. It still felt as if he'd made the decision for all of them, even if there really didn't seem to be a better course of action. He also didn't like that beyond the worry and fear, his claws ached with anticipation, eager to throw himself into a battle of wits with his enemy; he would just as quickly fly the other way if it was an option, but it was not. From the way Wanderer was subtly scraping his claws on the rock ground, he felt the same conflict.
Whatever. One more light of probably fitful rest. One more light, and then they would turn the tactics of their despicable enemy against him.