Something gently roused Dreamer from sleep, lightly stroking across his face. He blinked at the light of day streaming into the den, trying to make out this unfamiliar thing that was trying to wake him, and immediately went cross-eyed to find two small green eyes startling back, little paws standing on his snout.

Adoring, he purred, and the eyes widened as they looked down at his nose. Happy, the hatchling squawked, then did his best to climb up, hindpaws fumbling for grip. One found its way into his mouth, standing on his lip, and the other poked into his nostril, introducing him to just how sharp those little claws were. But there was no weight behind them, so it just stung for a bit while the hatchling climbed onto his face.

The tiny little hindlegs and tail disappeared above the top of his vision, slow but confident pawsteps walking over his head, claws digging into his thick hide; Wanderer and Fleeting were watching from nearby, ears and frills lifted happily while their hatchling explored. Dreamer lifted his head when the insignificant weight reached his back, turning to see the little Nightstriker climbing over him.

There didn't seem to be any curiosity, not in the stiff back-spines he occasionally grabbed in his uncoordinated wandering nor the large leathery wings folded to either side of him… Then again, he was less than a day old, still learning how to interpret the world around him. Walking in a straight line seemed basically all he was capable of right now, and it was taking all his focus just to do that.

He reached Dreamer's lower back, at which point Wanderer stepped forward and picked him up in his mouth. The hatchling dangled limply from his teeth, though with an annoyed grumble, before he was placed back on the ground. Once released, he quickly found his paws and started walking again. Less than a day old, and already walking and climbing. It had to be easier with four legs, but still.

"What we will call him?" Dreamer hummed, purring quietly while their hatchling slowly walked back to him. The three of them silently stared at each other for a few awkward moments.

"I not want give him name yet," Fleeting said cautiously, and the hatchling squeaked happily as she nuzzled him. "Wait for him to grow some. Then can give him good name."

While that would be nice, and made sense… "But what we should call him now?" Dreamer grumbled. "Not just Hatchling."

"We can call him that," Wanderer purred, lowering himself to the ground and shuffling up until his snout touched the little male. He tried climbing onto Wanderer as he had Dreamer, but squawked confusion as a tongue licked up his front and knocked him back. He clambered to his paws to try again, and Dreamer forewent grumbling over a name to just silently coo and snigger, watching him try to figure out what was stopping him from climbing as he wanted.

Finally, the hatchling reared onto Wanderer's snout one last time to just collapse on it, panting and grumbling with shrill little growls. Wanderer carefully tilted his head back to lift him, closing an eye against the little paw groping for something to hold onto, then offered him to Dreamer, the little tail dangling limply from his nose.

Dreamer blinked, then glanced down and around at himself – how did a dragon hold a hatchling? His forelegs were unsuitable for doing much, but the rest of his limbs were entirely useless. How Fleeting had held him last night came to mind… which only left getting him there.

He expected to trip over himself, to fumble it somehow or do it wrong, but he had to try. Ever so gently, he wrapped his teeth around the tiny little Nightstriker, deadly sharp points hooking onto him with only the barest amount of pressure to easily lift his insignificant weight. Dreamer's heart melted as that weight went limp in his mouth, trusting him unconditionally, before he lay on his side and kicked his hindlegs around to drop the hatchling into the snug little niche it made under his wing; that had been surprisingly easy. He was already purring loudly, but feeling his son curl up on him, little claws clinging to his scales… It was indescribably heartwarming.

"You not mind?" he tentatively asked Wanderer; he really wanted this, but he remembered feeling left out when Fleeting had taken him.

"I held him already," Wanderer admitted with a purr, pawing at the ground. "We let you sleep. Is your turn."

Dreamer wanted to grumble, but he'd have to stop purring to do that which just didn't seem worth it. Instead, he tucked his head under his wing to stare at the little Nightstriker in the darkness, all worn out and already deeply asleep; by the sound of it, Wanderer and Fleeting were settling down to follow suit. Dreamer craned around to get closer, putting his nose to the hatchling and inhaling his scent now that it wasn't overwhelmed by egg slime.

The usual torrent of information washed through him, but this time he closed his eyes and focused on it; he couldn't remember doing this with Fleeting, come to think of it… but then again, focusing too hard on her scent usually led to other things. The rough scent of a male was prominent, though it was… small, was the best word he had to describe it. There was a scent of fish too, he must have been fed again already, but not given water. Not that he smelled dehydrated, not yet at least; taking him to the lake promised to be amusing. He smelled tired, worn out, a little stressed, but also happy which was good. Fleeting's scent was on him too, as was Wanderer's, and yet it was not difficult to pick out the mix between them, the hatchling's own unique scent.

He could smell the difference between Wanderer and himself; Wanderer's scent was deeper, smoother, calmer, a bit fishier as he more often cleaned himself after eating. But that was just a difference in their day-to-day living, the same scent branching in two different ways. He couldn't smell the difference in this little hatchling. Not that it mattered in the slightest, of course, he was only marginally curious.

The little tail twitched, and Dreamer's heart melted all over again. He cooed adoringly, then just rested his head on his foreleg and let his eyes drift shut, focusing on the feeling of the little wing touching his snout. The sky-fire had not yet set, so he was due some more sleep anyway, and somehow the minute weight on him was very relaxing.

As he began to drift off, he wondered if his own sire had ever held him like this, maybe cradled to his chest in front of the fire. There were old, faint memories where Stoick had been kind and gentle. Somewhere along the line, something had gone wrong.

Dreamer curled up a little tighter, pulling his wing closer around the both of them. He didn't really blame his sire for the way things had turned out, but he would do better. And he wouldn't be doing it alone.

An insistent fumbling under Wanderer's wing roused him from sleep, and he reluctantly lifted it with a glance around to see who else was awake – nobody, by the look of it. But the sky-fire had set so maybe it was time to be awake anyway. He yawned widely while Hatchling tumbled down his leg to the ground, where he then vigorously shook himself off before gleefully bounding off to tackle Fleeting's ear.

Wanderer chuckled quietly as his mate groaned, pawing at and successfully grabbing the hatchling to hold to her chest. The shrill growls were somewhat muted by her paws and wing, though he eventually managed to claw his way free to jump on her again. "How you have so much energy," she rumbled, then nudged him over with her snout to nuzzle him with a purr. His little paws swatted at her and he tried to bite her nose, but he was still so small it was utterly ineffective.

"It feel like I only just got sleep," Dreamer rumbled, yawning widely. "I think we need do this better. Not all be awake when he wakes." Wanderer flattened his ears to the shrill growling and little shrieks as Fleeting played with their hatchling, then gave Dreamer a flat look; it had only been a pawful of nights, but they were all feeling the broken sleep.

Dreamer huffed, stretched his legs out as he stood, then wearily but swiftly trotted out of the den. He returned shortly after with a short branch in his mouth. Hatchling quickly abandoned his dam to investigate what his sire had brought, wide eyes staring as his little body rocked with the sniffs he gave it. Dreamer nudged him with it, and he squeaked as he was pushed back.

Hatchling growled, an adorable little sound, then sank his teeth into the stick and futilely tried to tug it from Dreamer's mouth, alternately yanking at it and trying to pull at it with a paw. Dreamer dropped it, and then the three of them were suppressing laughter as the hatchling held the end of the stick high to trot to the back of the den with it, dragging it alongside him. Once there, he settled down to chew it, blissfully quiet; for the moment at least.

"Not will be much problem now," Fleeting purred as she watched him. "I think we can take him out this night."

"I can sleep?" Wanderer asked half-jokingly, then rumbled amusement when Fleeting shot him a brief glare. "Come," he barked – and sighed as Hatchling folded his ears back, determinedly chewing his stick. "More sticks for chewing out there," he grumbled, climbing to his paws and walking to the back of the den. Their hatchling refused to let go of the stick – even when Wanderer picked him up and he went limp, he still stubbornly held it in his teeth. Wanderer just snorted amusement, then dropped him on Fleeting's back before following her outside.

Hatchling kept hold of the stick, but it seemed mostly forgotten as he looked around with wide, uncertain eyes, shrinking into his dam's scruff. She kept her wings raised a little so that he could somewhat hide behind them from where he peered around her neck, almost completely flat to her back. When they reached the first tree of the forest and stopped beneath it, he forewent even that to stare up at the leaves rustling gently in the breeze.

Fleeting settled down and arranged herself so that he had a path down her shoulder to the ground, though he eyed it sceptically. Wanderer crooned encouragement, walking around and lying nearby to create a comforting sort of wall so that he would not be so overwhelmed. But Hatchling really wasn't sure, shuffling his paws on his dam's shoulder with an uncertain rumble, still amusingly holding the stick in his teeth.

And then Dreamer dropped another stick on the ground, and Hatchling's mouth fell open with a squeak, causing him to drop the stick he had. He squeaked panic, lunging for the stick, but only succeeded in tumbling down after it, landing in a crumpled heap of wings and tail. Dreamer was immediately by his side; completely unnecessary, however much he huddled to the big snout nosing at him.

Amusement, Wanderer huffed when Hatchling rediscovered his sticks, for there were two of them now. He grabbed one and dragged it to the other, trying to fit both in his mouth, but the second one kept falling out and gave all his parents a hard time in not laughing at him too much.

Catching onto the idea, Wanderer pawed some dry leaves over to him, suddenly making him aware that there were other things here to explore! Hatchling leapt at a leaf, tumbled over it, and stuck his nose into it to avidly sniff it. After discovering that biting it was significantly less fun than chewing sticks, he shook his head with an affronted squawk, then leapt onto the nearest intact leaf and batted it into submission.

Summons, Fleeting barked sternly, and Hatchling folded his ears and hunkered to the ground, determinedly focused on the leaf. Wanderer growled warning – he clearly knew he was being called – but Fleeting shot him a glance that said she was handling it. Summons, she barked again, then stood and swatted the fledgling, flattening him to the ground with a little squeak, before picking him up and taking him back to where she'd been lying a few steps away. She dropped him to the ground, then purred and nuzzled him, and he murred happily at the little lick up his back before being allowed to explore again.

All part of growing and learning. He didn't wander far, just entertained himself with investigating the various smells and tastes around him, then rested on his side and looked around with wide, curious eyes. His little head twitched every which way at different sounds, some that Wanderer himself didn't even notice until he stopped to think about what he was no longer listening for. A muffled snore from Dreamer similarly earned his rapt attention, albeit only briefly.

Playful, Wanderer huffed quietly, crouching down, and Hatchling spun to stare hopefully at him. Wanderer held out a paw and nudged him with it, immediately getting tackled with teeth attacking one of his claws. He dragged the hatchling side to side, those little hindlegs struggling to keep up, then lifted him right off the ground. It was impressive how determined he was for a hatchling, utterly refusing to let go, even when Wanderer lightly shook him.

"Go get Sire," Wanderer huffed playfully, twisting his paw free and flicking it in Dreamer's direction. Hatchling kept trying to attack it, but Wanderer kept it out of reach, alternately nudging him forwards and pointing him at Dreamer. Eventually he got the hint, glancing back at Wanderer for a moment before running off and tackling Dreamer to bite into his ear.

Surprised, Dreamer half grumbled and half yelped, jolting awake and pulling Hatchling with him as he rolled back; this was apparently very fun, if the joyous squeals were anything to go by.

"You are good?" Fleeting asked him as he was climbed over by their energetic hatchling. "You look tired, like you not are sleeping."

"Some," Dreamer admitted, smiling with a wince while sharp little teeth chewed the frills between his ears. "Not is easy to find sleep. Then I wake when he wakes. Will be good now if we taking him outside, I think."

"Much better, yes," she agreed, though she looked thoughtful. "Maybe…" She shuffled over and sidled up to him, giving his neck a light nuzzle. "I could help you find sleep, if want…"

Appreciation, Dreamer hummed quietly, leaning into her. "I would like that," he purred.

"Come," she huffed to Hatchling as she took him in her teeth, then set him down a short distance from Wanderer. "Go play with Sire," she purred with a nudge. Wanderer picked up one of the sticks he'd been playing with earlier, and Hatchling happily bounded over to try to take it from him.

"Now?" Dreamer asked, though he heartily nuzzled her shoulder and licked along the back of her smooth neck.

Fleeting purred, arching her neck into him. "You need sleep more," she hummed, glancing Wanderer's way as she stood. Wanderer chuffed confidence, he could handle this for a while, and Fleeting lightly tossed her head, telling him she'd be back after helping Dreamer relax.

Wanderer blinked away his tiredness and chuffed confidence again, flicking his wings dismissively; he would prefer she rested too, so that he could have a nice long rest himself when one of them woke. He didn't wait for a response, growling playfully and gently tugging on the stick as their hatchling tugged and growled back at him, and Dreamer and Fleeting soon trotted back towards the den. Wanderer was mostly looking forward to some one-on-one time with his son, but especially with a hatchling to care for, it was important they cared for each other too.

The air always smelled sweetest after rain. Even high in the bright sky, beyond the peaks of the long mountain backing their den, it was thick with the familiar scents of the forest, of leaves and flowers and life.

They had carried a little bit of life up themselves this late afternoon, and Dreamer rolled happily as he drifted over Fleeting, their little hatchling watching him with wide, studious eyes from where he clung to her scruff. He had grown considerably in only a couple of weeks, his soft hide somehow stretching and growing in new scales to accommodate him for now, but his whole body still fit neatly between his dam's shoulders. His wings were flared a little too, just feeling the wind blowing past and nothing more; they were quickly tucked back in with every errant gust. He had so much to see and learn, but he was steadily soaking it all in, gradually becoming more coordinated and observant, being curious and trying new things… not all of them good. Fleeting was often swatting at him for sticking his forked tongue into his nostrils – which once he'd noticed, Dreamer realised he did himself when nobody was looking, a habit he was in the process of breaking.

Swatting him was… a little uncomfortable for Dreamer. Not that he was going to ask her or Wanderer to stop, just that it reminded him of certain times in his own life. Pain, even this small amount, was potent discouragement and an unfortunate certainty of life, but he just couldn't inflict it himself. It wasn't who he was. It was difficult now, but eventually they would be able to discuss it, explain with words and feelings. He came when he was called now, which was the main thing.

"Watch Sire," Fleeting crooned, though their son was still watching Dreamer with his wide, bright green eyes, so filled with wonder and amazement.

Dreamer was probably staring back with a similar expression – Fleeting was more speaking to him, as their son was very much enjoying watching him fly. "He is watching," Dreamer called out, then beat his wings and stretched them out wide in a flashy roll, his heart soaring at the happy squeals that spun around him along with the rest of the world. He then dove, glancing behind himself to see a little face peering down over Fleeting's shoulder, and when he flapped his way back up past her, on her other side, he was met with a shrill happy roar.

They flew until night fell, the wind calming as the sky-sparks began twinkling in the sky above. It had been a wonderful flight, working towards recovering the last bit of strength and stamina they had lost over the cold-season, winding but not exhausting.

Which was more than could be said for their son. When they gently landed outside their den, and Dreamer went to take him from Fleeting's back, he hesitated with an adoring whine. "He is asleep," he whispered to Fleeting, and she looked back with a loving purr. Dreamer picked him up – there was no difficulty getting him loose, he always went limp in their teeth – and carried him inside.

Wanderer was lying at the edge of the den, and lifted his head as they entered. "He looks tired," he rumbled warmly before stretching out on his side. "Want me to hunt?"

Dreamer hesitated, having been about to curl up with his charge, then offered the sleeping hatchling to Fleeting. She immediately perked and curled up on her side with a wing raised, and Dreamer dropped him into the cozy little spot she made for him. "We can hunt," he then offered to Wanderer, who perked happily. "But… I want talk about names first… Not need give him name now, just talk."

"We can do that," Fleeting agreed, shuffling and lowering her wing over their sleeping son. "He is growing much, we should give him name soon, so he knows it." Wanderer chuffed and shuffled over, and Dreamer sidestepped so that when he dropped to lounge on his side they made a rough circle. "You asked, so you tell us what you thinking first," she purred, smiling slyly at him.

"If want," Dreamer huffed, rolling his eyes. "I… maybe like Gazer," he rumbled, staring at his paws as he shuffled them. It was the word 'watcher', but drawn out a bit with a hopeful or maybe curious tone, putting a spin on a basic word as how much of the dragon language worked. "I like what it mean, he watches everything, those wide eyes…"

Uncertain, Fleeting churred. "I also like what it mean… but for name… it sound strange…"

"Yes," Dreamer rumbled, and Wanderer chuffed agreement. "Small awkward to say." The word didn't flow seamlessly with the inflections put on it and when made into a name, given it was usually used around hunting. "I not really have other ideas. What you think?"

"Maybe is boring," she said quietly, staring at her own paws, "but I like Hunter…"

Wanderer visibly flinched, ears folding back. "Maybe not that name," he huffed, staring off to the side with pain in his eyes.

Dreamer shared a look with Fleeting, but she seemed as clueless as he was. "I not much like that name also," he rumbled, partially for Wanderer's sake but also because he did think it was a bit plain and obvious; they were all hunters, and he was struggling to find some special, personal meaning behind it. "What name you want give him then?"

"I not know," Wanderer said with a shrug of his wings. "I not much good thinking names."

"You gave me good name!" Dreamer protested; he loved his name, it fit him perfectly.

"Anyone can see you are Dreamer," Wanderer rumbled, amused. "Always dreaming."

"Maybe," Dreamer huffed. "But I not am lost!" Wanderer growled and grabbed at him, hooking a paw over his neck to try to bite his ear while Dreamer held him off-

They both froze at a stern huff from Fleeting, the three of them staring at the lump under her wing. But it remained motionless, and they all breathed a quiet sigh of relief while Dreamer slipped out of Wanderer's grasp. "Let him find his wings," Wanderer rumbled, lightly swatting at Dreamer while he pulled away. "He will do something, then we will know."

"I said we not need name him now," Dreamer hummed as he tried and ultimately failed to stifle a yawn. "Mrrr, I need sleep… We should hunt now."

"If you leave kill near river, I will find it when I wake," Fleeting mumbled, and yawned widely herself before tucking her head against her wing with her eyes closed.

Dreamer stretched, clawing at the loose dirt to pull at his stiff shoulders, then trotted outside and took wing into the night. "Why having hatchling is so exhausting?" he rumbled as Wanderer pulled up next to him; he felt as if he'd been flying three times as long as he actually had.

"Not know," Wanderer huffed, settling into an efficient glide as they swept over the forest. "I feel that also. Maybe because very wary. Looking for threats. Watching him." He yawned, then shook his head. "I love him much, but is nice when you or Fleeting take him."

Agreement, Dreamer chuffed. It was by no means an issue, not with three of them sharing the responsibility, and he was treasuring these moments. But he was also looking forward to him growing a little, at least past the stage there wouldn't be a constant guessing game over whether he was hungry, bored, tired, overwhelmed, needed to relieve himself, or whatever else had him squawking. He had to pity Long-Paw parents, they couldn't even smell their children's mood, at least not as far as he was aware; until now, it was a sense he'd been taking for granted.

"Try keep up!" Wanderer roared, startling the prey-pack in the distance, and beat his wings to pull ahead. Dreamer growled, quickly rolling his shoulders before swerving into the slipstream off Wanderer's wing and picking up the pace.

"What he doing?" Dreamer asked curiously as their hatchling waved his wings, one after the other.

"I not know," Fleeting hummed, amused. "He not do that before now." Hatchling grumbled, his little face scrunched up in concentration while he made the odd motion again, then stared hopefully at his dam and Dreamer. "You are adorable," Fleeting purred, and he squeaked as she nuzzled him onto his back on the floor of the den.

He growled playfully, kicking and pushing at her head and trying to somehow get a grip on her with his teeth, until she relented and allowed him to scramble back to his paws. Frustrated, he huffed, then waved his wings again.

Fleeting yawned widely, her tongue curling and ears folding back, then nuzzled the hatchling. "Go play with Sire," she hummed, and Dreamer beckoned to the mouth of the den.

Delighted, the hatchling squawked, bounding outside in his bouncy, uncoordinated hatchling way, and Dreamer followed him out into the night with a quiet purr. A brisk walk was all that was required to keep up with the energetic little Nightstriker, who was not only slower due to being smaller and uncoordinated, but also kept stopping to avidly sniff at whatever caught his eye-

Dreamer leapt over to hold him back from a small patch of that nasty stinging plant; he burned it out whenever he found any, but occasionally it grew back. Wary, distrust, dislike, he growled at it, then snorted and glanced back at his son – as was often the case, he was watching with those wide, studious eyes, soaking everything in. Distrust, he growled in his little hatchling voice, and Dreamer purred and nuzzled him before leading him away; he'd burn that patch later, this was not a time for gardening.

They walked towards the forest, making some distance from the den, until the hatchling stopped, stubbornly planted his paws, and waved his wings around again, alternately flicking them up above himself. Dreamer hummed thoughtfully, crouching to the ground. "You are trying to tell me something…" His son repeated the motion, face scrunched in concentration again, then stretched his wings wide and bounded around with a happy roar, almost as if-

"Fly?" Dreamer asked. The word was a double flick of both wings, rather than alternating them, but if this was the dragon equivalent burbling then…!

Excited! his son shrieked, bounding around him, then jumped up to claw his way onto Dreamer's back and up to his shoulders, where his little claws dug in for grip.

His first word… Fitting for a dragon that it should be 'fly'. Dreamer craned around to nuzzle the little Nightstriker while he spread his wings, feeling overwhelmed with love and joy – but of course, he had to reward such a leap in development with what had been asked for. The claws in his shoulders and back dug in a little deeper as he crouched, lifting his wings high, and then he leaped into the air, firm wingstrokes bringing lift and speed to carry them towards the night sky above.

What a wonderful night for flying… He swiftly rose high above their territory and angled to circle around a thick, low-hanging cloud floating on the gentle wind, his wings and fins stretched to their fullest. He could feel the disruption over his back, too, the little wings tentatively spreading to feel the wind and jerking back in when a gust threatened to pry him loose, but that did nothing to disrupt their calm, relaxing flight.

The bright sky-ice cast dark shadows beneath the clouds, painting interesting patterns on the land far below. Above, the sky-sparks twinkled their gentle light, oblivious to anything going on beneath them. Dreamer's wings and tail-fins caressed the wind to keep them airborne and level, and on his back, the claws relaxed, even shuffling around as the hatchling fidgeted and maybe looked around or something. However many times he flew with his son, he had a feeling neither of them would ever tire of it, just enjoying the-

Dreamer's heart practically stopped as the weight on his back gave a firm shove and disappeared entirely. He reflexively flared his wings, slowing jerkily while he desperately scanned around and beneath him in a panic – there had never been a single moment where he was responsible for his son and did not know exactly where he was and what he was doing, and this was the worst possible place to lose him! Concerned, he barked, desperately glancing every which way…

A little shadow drifted over ahead of him, wings stretched wide and wobbling wildly. Dreamer breathlessly whimpered in relief as much as in joy and pride as he stared up at him, then lightly flapped his wings to pull ahead a little.

The hatchling – no, he was a fledgling now – stared ahead with wide eyes and slightly parted teeth that conveyed all his regrets, legs pawing at the air as if searching for something to grab onto. His wings and tail were in good form, other than the wobbling, and… he was flying!

Dreamer startled at a sudden thought, then roared summons, haste! His son glanced fitfully at him with the sound, gaze snapping back ahead as if he was worried about crashing into something, clearly not at ease. Afraid, regret, he yowled, trying to reach out with a paw only to wobble wildly again.

Confidence, encouragement, pride, Dreamer crooned at him, hoping he could keep gliding until Wanderer and Fleeting could catch up. His own first few flights were fuzzy in his memory, he didn't remember much from when he'd been that age, but he did remember that just gliding had not been all that difficult or tiring.

Two more dark shapes were racing up to them, though of course the newly fledged Nightstriker was not in much of a state to notice them, entirely focused on staying aloft as he was. Only when his other two parents caught up, roaring their own pride and elation, did he start to look happy, though his paws still reached out for them as they all drifted around him.

"You are flying!" Fleeting chirruped gleefully, drifting up close to him so that his tail extended over her wing. Happy, regret, he yowled back at her, reaching out and pawing at her as if trying to walk through the air. "Keep going!" she crooned encouragingly, "you doing very good!"

Unhappy, he shouted, then yipped as he dropped a few feet in the air. Fleeting of course immediately dropped with him to remain below, but he managed to catch himself and resume his wobbly glide. Once he was steady again, or as steady as before, Fleeting navigated under him and rose up so that he landed on her back, where he immediately grabbed on and tightly folded his wings. Wanderer then demonstrated some remarkable skill by steadily drifting so close to her that he could lean down to nuzzle and lick their son on her back.

Dreamer followed them down to the ground, a little concerned he'd done something wrong. Should he have caught him, when he first voiced his unhappiness? Then again, Fleeting had encouraged him as well. Now, he was licking the back of his dam's neck, his wings still folded and claws gripping her tightly, but his tail was flicking around happily behind him. He seemed okay, which was a bit of a relief; Dreamer didn't want to traumatise him away from flying of all things.

They touched down near their den, and the now-fledgling leaped from his dam's back, tumbled to the ground, climbed to his paws, and walked over to the nearest stick on the ground to settle down and chew it.

"He not is hatchling now," Fleeting hummed warmly, nuzzling Dreamer, then walked over and settled down with her side against their son who was still busy with his stick.

"No," Dreamer said with a purr. He thought back on that moment warmly, knowing he would cherish it forever, his first son's first flight… and had to laugh. "I not was expecting that. He just leaped!" He froze, and Wanderer and Fleeting froze, likely all wondering if they'd all just had the same idea.

Wanderer purred and walked over to the fledgling, settling down close enough to lightly nuzzle his back. "Little Leaper," he hummed warmly, and Dreamer and Fleeting loudly purred their agreement. It was a good name, he did tend to leap ahead of himself at times, excitable and energetic as he was. Dreamer chuckled under his breath, reminded a little of when he had asked to-

He blinked, realising two things. "What he was doing before," he said to Fleeting, mimicking the odd little alternating motion with his wings, "he was trying to say 'fly'. He was telling us he wanted to fly…"

Adoring, Fleeting and Wanderer hummed. "I not saw that," Wanderer complained, then nudged Leaper with his snout to try to get his attention. But he was too interested in his stick to talk to his sire, particularly after such a daring and exhausting leap into the sky.

"We will get you if he says again," Dreamer rumbled. "Hrrr… I remember when I was hatchling… I asked you to teach me flying… I was talking already…" Come to think of it, when had that been? The memories were too blurry to recall if it had been the warming-season or the hot-season; for that matter, he wasn't really sure which season it was now, the nights were all blurring into each other and passing with frightening speed.

"You already knew how talk," Wanderer huffed, lightly swatting at him. "You hatched again. This his first time learning."

Dreamer snapped at the paw until it stopped trying to bat his ear. "I understand," he rumbled with a glance at Fleeting, though she seemed only passively curious. It made sense, anyway, he hadn't been able to remember anything when he'd hatched again but a lot of base understanding had been there, a concept of language at least. He'd had a head start in learning, so had picked it up more quickly.

Fleeting yawned widely, then stood and nuzzled Dreamer as she walked past him towards their den; it did not escape his notice that Wanderer's scent was heavy on her, but strangely enough it was sort of comforting in a way. He watched her go, distantly entertaining the idea of suggesting some of the things they'd done at the end of the cooling-season, before shaking his head and turning his attention back to his son, to Leaper.

"He is tired now," he hummed to Wanderer, padding over to Leaper and settling down where Fleeting had been lying, showing his support to his son with his presence. "You can rest or fly if want." He didn't much want to fly any more for now, so much had happened he already felt quite tired himself, but not so much that he couldn't mind a weary fledgling.

"I will stay here," Wanderer hummed, walking over and lying down against Dreamer's other side to put a wing over him. "Thank you for calling us. Very happy I could see his first flight." Dreamer huffed nonchalance as he stretched out and relaxed under the warm comforting wing, it had been an obvious thing to do; if anything, he'd been too slow to call for them. "His words will come quickly now. He will be talking in…" Wanderer trailed off, looking around. "What season this is?"

Amusement, Dreamer barked. At least he wasn't the only one.

Carefully, so as to not disturb the fledgling sleeping on his back, Dreamer walked into the den to find Wanderer sleeping soundly and Fleeting just starting to rouse. The sky-fire had recently passed over the mountain, nearing the end of a long flight around the sky that indicated the hot-season taking hold, but apparently fledglings paid little heed to such things; Leaper played and slept on his own schedule.

Fleeting cracked an eye as Dreamer entered, while Wanderer would sleep for a while longer, having gone to sleep only a few hours ago. Most likely he'd wake around the same time Leaper did, so Dreamer slowly walked over to him and gently settled down, in no hurry at all. He twisted his head around to stare lovingly and adoringly at the little Nightstriker on his back, paws sprawled over his neck and tail trailing down his wing.

He slept soundly, tiny breaths shallow and short, one of his adorable little ears occasionally flicking with whatever dream he was having. His wings had drooped a little, certainly feeling the exertion of learning to fly, but were still held close to his lithe little body. Dreamer still could not get over just how tiny he was, a Nightstriker in miniature; from the little fins dotted up his face and down his back, to the long angular ears, to his stubby but sharp little claws, to his long tail and wide tail-fins. Visually, Leaper looked very similar to Wanderer or Dreamer, the only real notable differences – aside from his somewhat disproportionately larger head for still being so young – were that his eyes were a deeper green, and the shape of his ears more resembled Fleeting's, longer and thinner. It was only his scent that was truly different, that and his mannerisms.

After just enjoying the peace and quiet for a little while, Dreamer carefully picked him up with his teeth. Leaper was already as limp as could be, but he did mumble sleepily as he was lifted off his warm sleeping place. When he was set down against Wanderer's chest, however, and Wanderer curled a paw around him in his sleep, he started purring, a tiny, high-pitched little sound that rose and rounded off more quickly with his shorter breaths.

Dreamer retreated to nudge Fleeting until she opened an eye to look at him, then tossed his snout towards the pair. She lifted her head and yawned widely before rising to her paws and padding over to them, where she wilted in adoration and love. Wanderer was still fast asleep, eyes firmly closed and ears limp against his neck. The front half of Leaper's torso was splayed out over his sire's paw, a foreleg resting over the claws, the rest of him tucked firmly between his sire's leg and neck. Two exhausted males, fast asleep after a long day of play.

Reluctantly, Dreamer turned and silently walked outside, into the afternoon light. The sky-fire was still shining off the clouds above, still filling the sky with light, though everything was cast in shadow here on the southern side of the mountain due to its slight angle. Fleeting followed soon after, still purring quietly, and slipped under his wing to rub against his side.

Her scent was clear out here in the fresh air, stuffy for having been sleeping but also sharply inviting in a way that sent shivers down his back as she nipped at his shoulder. A paw then worked its way over his neck as she licked him, a wing hooking around his foreleg – she leaned into him and he suddenly stumbled, finding himself in a weird grapple that was pulling him off-balance.

His heart skipped at the mischievous glint in her eye and flash of her teeth while she tried to pull him to the ground, but he wasn't willing to just give in to her; nor would she want him to. He tried leaning into her for balance, trying to securely plant his paws on the grass, but her body gave way to him and he nearly fell right on top of her.

Nearly, but not quite, almost pulling a muscle in his side as he twisted back and strained her grip on him. Her claws around his neck slipped in trying to reposition against his shoulder, affording him a scant moment to reposition a paw, which he used to push back and pry his way out of her grasp.

She immediately lunged for him, catching his flank as he fled, and he stifled a yelp as she brought him down then and there. He was forced to roll, managed to catch her shoulder with a firm kick, then scrambled back to his paws and leapt away before she could find another hold on him.

They hurtled into and through the forest, rushing past trees and thick tangles of leafy plants in their race. Dreamer's tail and hindlegs prickled with expectation, intensely aware of every shift in her stride as she pounced at him. Initially he thought he was going to have to let her catch him, but he was already weary, while she was rested and motivated-

He yelped as her claws found purchase on his hip and the base of his tail, dragging him down again to slide to a halt in the grass. She had him pinned before he could even think about struggling, paws firmly planted on his flank, shoulder, and back of his neck, a triumphant purr hovering over his ears.

An intense shiver worked its way down his back as she licked the side of his neck, ensuring he felt her teeth brush against him in the process. She had a way of making him feel vulnerable that Wanderer did not, almost overwhelmingly so… especially now that he knew not to hide anything from her. Not that there was any fighting this either way, he could only close his eyes and whimper at the delightful assault on his senses…

The writhing tangle of wings and limbs that followed left him breathless and lethargic, though not much wearier than before. He let his claws slip from her shoulders and tail, and purred as she tenderly licked his neck, soothing the lingering stinging it now sported.

With a long, final lick over his bared throat, she hopped off him and shook herself. "I not know how I ever woke before I had mates," she purred as she stretched; even though he was just coming down from that high, Dreamer had to appreciate her strong, lithe figure with a purr. "Maybe you will chase me next night?" she hummed sultrily, turning a little to stretch again, arching her tail over her back.

"Not do that," Dreamer groaned, rolling to paw at her hindpaw, "I tired already…" She chuffed amusement before bounding off and leaping into the air, flapping up through a break in the trees. The sound of her wingbeats carried off in the direction of the lake, probably to catch some fish and bathe.

On that thought, Dreamer cleaned himself off before hopping to his paws and giving himself a shake. It was tempting to follow her, but she'd coax him into playing, and he now just wanted to take it easy. It was also tempting to just climb up a tree and sleep in it, but that would mess up the odd sleeping rotation they had going on to keep Leaper engaged and entertained regardless of what time it was, with his shifting, sporadic sleep schedule.

He purred dryly to himself as he trotted towards the clearing Fleeting had used, and leaped up to take flight. Leaper was such a spoiled little fledgling, always with a fun parent to play with, so happy and full of life and energy, it was all so wonderful to be a part of. Even if… he didn't have any fledgling friends to play with.

Dreamer sighed as he ascended into the waning light, gaze drifting out over the forest towards the horizon. It would be good if Leaper could just meet another fledgling, but other Nightstrikers didn't seem to be answering calls. He wanted to know what was going on with that, both Wanderer and Fleeting seemed to think it strange, but… that didn't seem like a fight to have with a fledgling in tow. Besides which, he still felt fatigued from the long fight with the hunters. Not so much in body anymore, but his soul remained weary of conflict. Was it too much to ask for a nice long rest, to be with their mate and raise their son in peace? He liked to think not. Maybe in a few years, when Leaper got his fire and flew the nest…

Now that was a frightening thought. Dreamer shook himself and beat his wings, urging himself up into the sky, over the mountain. Night had yet to claim the land, which was perfect to go listen to the musician playing his odd instrument in the Long-Paw nest; long shadows from the late afternoon that he could use to easily sneak into the nest, but early enough that the man would still be playing. This routine he had settled into for now was convenient because it allowed him to come every afternoon, though the music had been conspicuously absent for a few lights now. Still, Dreamer had a good feeling.

The Long-Paw nest was ever-changing, but in Long-Paw fashion they never seemed to revise what was there. It was still all too easy to glide down behind the nest, hugging the rock of the mountain and weaving through shadows. The wall was complete now, though they seemed to still be building up on some areas and strengthening others, and a pawful of guards patrolled it, but none of them seemed to think anything could possibly come from the mountain behind them. It was quite an impressive size, actually, they must be digging quite the mine for all that rock.

He was aided by the slope of the village, the big building now even more thoroughly hiding his approach and with only a few tiny windows on the back; not really much to see this side, he supposed, as it was backed up against the steep rock. Once about level with its near-flat roof, he swerved off to the side and landed in a swift trot, making his way over to the western wall and blending into the deep shadow it cast. He hadn't heard any music yet, which was disappointing, but he might as well check now that he was here.

From there it was just following the maze of rooftops and alleyways. The nest might be growing steadily, but these paths never changed, and conveniently avoided any areas that had been thoughtlessly fouled; he'd be kicked out of the den for a week if he came back smelling of that. It was strange though, much quieter than usual, and the one place he normally had to be a little careful crossing – darkly shaded, but in full view of a busy street – he could have ridden a yak through and gone unnoticed by the sparse pedestrians passing by.

As expected, when he reached his usual roof and peered over the edge, there was nobody there, just a dirty wool blanket tucked into a corner between two buildings.

Dreamer flicked his ears, focusing on the sounds drifting through the nest. Now that he was here, he might as well make an adventure of it, sate his curiosity, and it was strange how few people were around. He could hear a congregation of them in the distance, probably the big open square near the front gates. From his limited vantage, he plotted his path, then slinked back down into the narrow alley and set off over much less familiar ground.

He'd taken the first few turns before, rarely exploring short distances if there was no music to listen to, but it didn't take long to go beyond even that. Progress was fairly slow, as he had to be very careful of not only the streets but people looking out of windows too. He was probably a bit too tired to be paying as much attention to his surroundings as he should be, but the odd quiet helped him hear the few people still hanging around, and Long-Paws were practically blind anyway.

The big open area was definitely where it was happening – whatever 'it' was. He got a few glimpses of the crowd, what had to be most of the nest crammed in together for some reason, murmuring a strange excitement that had Dreamer's hackles bunching. It took him a few tries, but eventually he found a secluded rooftop with a distant but good view, hidden from the wall and shrouded in shadow; he had a feeling he might be waiting a little while.

From here, he let his gaze wander over the crowd, about half of it visible over a few rooftops from where he settled down and crossed his paws; there wasn't room for his tail to stretch out, which was annoying, but it felt like the best he was going to get. The people of the nest were just standing around in a big crowd, gleefully talking among themselves. Were they confused and scared, this scene might have reminded him of another nest he'd once crept into, particularly given the platform they all seemed to be facing, but this was nothing like that.

Time passed, naught happening but the gradual darkening of the sky as the sky-fire began to set. Dreamer almost dozed off, or at least started paying less attention to what was going on below, until the buzz of the crowd changed tone, rising in pitch. He yawned, stifling the groan that came with it, and cast his gaze around to look for what had changed.

Three figures appeared on the stage, one scruffy and unkempt, and the crowd began shouting, sounding angry… Dreamer pawed at his eyes, willing the dull ache in them to subside, then blinked away the fuzziness and narrowed his gaze on the stage. Everything snapped into sharp focus, and he recognised the very man he'd originally come looking for, though absent of his instrument. He stood tall, head held high, hands clasped firmly behind his back in a way that reminded Dreamer a little of Viggo, staring down at the angry, jeering crowd. What…?

The second man on the stage, tall, thin, and exquisitely dressed in dark clothes with stiff trims, shouted at the crowd, which went quiet. He then started talking, his voice carrying well but distorting with its own echo off the buildings, not quite coherent by the time it made it to Dreamer. Something about… a tail? A horse's tail…? That didn't seem right…

The well-dressed man turned to the musician, and there was silence for a few moments. Then the crowd started shouting again. Some bizarre ritual of this land? This was all so confusing…

Dreamer's breath caught in his throat as the musician was roughly grabbed and forced to the ground, the awkward way in which he was moving too late in alerting Dreamer to the fact that his hands were tied. Too late, Dreamer realised the significance of the large axe the third man was carrying, when these people did not typically carry weapons as was normal in the harsh North.

His nimble mind saw the crowd gleefully anticipating this. Saw the difference between them, the well dressed and the torn, ragged clothes. Saw the man's begrudging acceptance of his fate, not that he had a choice. Dreamer was all too aware of what he himself was, and what he was protecting nearby. He hated it to his very core, but he couldn't risk interfering. He couldn't save this man.

He leapt from the rooftop, back up into the nest, and the dreadful sight instantly disappeared from view. But while he could avert his eyes, he could not help but hear the familiar impact of an axe against wood, and the blood-curdling screams that followed. The cheering of the crowd. It all followed him as he raced up the nest with reckless abandon, remaining in the shadow of the wall but prioritising haste, until he cleared the back of the nest and threw out his wings to beat the air as if he held it personally responsible for carrying the sounds still echoing up to him.

The mountain swept past below, and he quickly cleared its peak to drift into a stunned glide down the other side. His wings suddenly went weak part way down, dropping him the short distance into a heavy landing on the rough rock where he then stood, panting and shaking. He… He knew humans could… but that was… they…

His teeth snapped out, blood turning to fire in his veins. Desperately, he cast around, finding a tall boulder and firing at it without hesitation. It rocked, the large explosion shunting it from its resting place, and his second shot struck it and blew it onto its side. It slid for a body length down the slope before his third shot caught it, lending it momentum as it ran into something and began to tumble, and his fourth split it in two. The fifth and sixth shots, one striking each half, did absolutely nothing, as both were already unstoppably tumbling down the mountain, loud cracks echoing as they bounced.

That last shot, he kept. It was not necessary to expend that one, he would not be tempted to go back and use it to burn the nest to the ground, to become a cruel parody playing into the very thing he hoped to one day fix. They could rot on their side of the mountain, he was done with them, not least of which because there was now absolutely no reason to go back. Why… Why were Long-Paws… so…!

He sharply inhaled and shrieked down after the tumbling rocks, the grief and rage and incredulity and disappointment feeling as if it was burning a hole right through him. He was quickly answered with a concerned bark, and the fire raging within him all suddenly evaporated, leaving behind a cold, crushing void.

He sank to the ground and pawed at his face, feeling even more horrible now for worrying Fleeting and probably waking Wanderer. They had a son to care for, he didn't want to further burden them with his own issues, but when Fleeting landed nearby and bounded up to him, he found himself physically unable to collect himself, could barely even meet her eyes for a scant moment before whining and pawing at his face again.

After quickly scenting him, she settled down against his side and threw a wing over him, humming gently, but she was tense, worried, confused, and that only made him feel worse. Also, for how much she hated the scent of Long-Paws, and how she smelled clean and fresh, she had no reservations holding him, pressing to his side, even with the repugnant scents he carried. But he couldn't begin to explain even just what had happened, let alone why it was affecting him. She wouldn't even care that a lowly human had died.

But that wasn't it. He huddled to her, taking solace in what she was. She wasn't human, and she accepted him, even loved him. Because the thirst of the crowd, that eager anticipation and excitement for suffering and death… it sickened him to his core that he had once been one of them. Not just a human, he had once also thirsted for blood, dreamed of killing dragons and cutting out their hearts, far beyond just wanting to stop the raids.

More wingbeats descending into a landing, gentler and steadier, had Dreamer scowl at himself; Wanderer would not have left Leaper alone, so must have brought him along, so now this was disturbing his son's rest too. He could feel the unspoken conversation between Wanderer and Fleeting, and lifted his head with a grunt. "I am good," he bit out, though much more sharply than he had intended.

Disbelief, Wanderer snorted as he transferred their sleeping son to Fleeting, then took her position as she moved away. They watched her carefully take wing to glide down the mountain, towards their den…

Wanderer shot Dreamer a glare with a flash of teeth the moment he so much as thought of apologising. Dreamer snorted, resting his head on his paws. "I not going back there," he rumbled.

"No reason now," Wanderer half-growled. He was a clever dragon, seeming to have figured out the gist of it judging by the bitter scowl he wore. "You not are Long-Paw now."

The rest of the conversation ran through Dreamer's mind without needing to be voiced, his remaining objections refuted by Wanderer's mere presence. With nothing left to say, he shuffled a little more firmly up against him, just focusing on the warm wing covering his back and telling himself it wasn't important what he had been. All that was important was what he was now.

Author's Notes

SEQUELS! I keep getting asked, now that this story is beginning to wind up to its conclusion, so hopefully for people who don't read ANs this got your attention =P

Yes, there will be a sequel, a story set in the aftermath of A Gift of Wings, maybe a hundred years in the future. It is going to feature a lot of mystery, and do some exploration of the world we ended up with.

But before that, I have another story to write, a prequel to delve into the lore of this world. So yes, I will still be writing for a while yet!