Far across the land, Nightstrikers looked uneasily to their mates as their ears lifted to the paw brushing against their thoughts. It was not a strong touch, but nor was it so gentle as to go unnoticed, enough to grab attention.
Dreamer could see none of this, of course, only the wide and confused eyes of his mates still on the ground below. But they would understand soon. He inhaled, then doubled down on the baseline he was projecting through his fire and inevitably worked it to the rhythm of his wingbeats, the leadup of the Song he had tirelessly refined over the last few weeks.
He could only trust that it was working. Most of his waking time since Leaper's death had been committed to learning and understanding this power, and he knew Nightstrikers were susceptible. Everything suggested he was fully capable of forcing his will onto them and commanding them to do whatever he wanted. Of course, that was not something he was willing to do, even now. Perhaps it was what Grimmel was hoping for, but Dreamer had been on the receiving end of it more than once, and had no desire to inflict it on anyone else.
Instead, he told a story. He showed the world as he saw it, shattered and broken. Dragons on the brink of extinction, humans spreading like a plague and unwittingly bringing with them suffering and death.
For hundreds of miles, every Nightstriker was forced to confront reality as it invaded their minds. They had all been part of the problem, lashing out at the ignorant humans, who retaliated in kind. They had all made the world what it was, one of suffering and fear, never knowing what dangers they would be up against next. They had made Grimmel, forced humanity to produce someone so dangerous. If nothing changed, it would only happen again and again.
Something had to change.
What Dreamer projected across the sky did not consist of words, but they formed the basis of how he communicated it, backed by his experiences and memories. He did not command, but he ramped up the volume, encouraging and imploring everyone to unite, and fight, to make a better life for all. This was the time to roar defiance at the world, to grab the forces pushing them to extinction and burn them away! This was the time to rise!
The Song ebbed, easing off almost completely for a moment before returning to a low baseline, and he took a long breath to muster his confidence.
Firing into the inferno would not solve the problem of humans, only stoke the flames that threatened to consume them all. Neither side understood or cared about the other, inevitably escalating into a war that no dragon could escape. That dark past needed to be put behind them, one last battle to pave the way. And when they had shed their hides and mourned those who could finally be put to rest, they would stride from the ashes to carry hope and warmth into the future!
No more barely scraping by. No more hiding in barren territories. Their lives were all there for the taking. They needed only to rise!
One Nightstriker emerged from his den in the failing light, ears and wings flexing with the rhythm that was almost drowning out his own thoughts. His two remaining mates growled worriedly at him from their den, and he growled right back at them. He was tired of living like this, hungry and miserable! They all were! "We maybe all will die," he huffed. "But I rather die fighting for this," he flared his wings and glanced at the sky, "than waiting to die here!" He was going. If his mates wanted to stay… then he could at least try to make the world a bit safer for them, as these strange thoughts were promising. It might amount to nothing, but was worth the risk. Any chance at something better was preferable to just waiting for death.
The voice in their heads again roared encouragement to come together, to fight this fouled and broken world, and his mates hesitantly followed him out into the darkening night, emboldened by the memories flashing through their minds. He purred and gave them a grateful nuzzle as they spread their wings, and then they leapt from the ground and rose into the night with roars of defiance.
Tonight!
They were not the only ones. Nightstrikers took to the air in twos, threes, some groups of four, and even a rare family of eight, always together; none had hatchlings or fledglings, not when they knew the world was so dangerous. They inexplicably knew where to go, subtly woven into the messages projected to them.
We rise!
Humans could not hear it, not quite. But if they were close enough, they could feel it, a sense of dread and unease lightly scratching at the backs of their necks. Only one human recognised it for what it was, parting a curtain to look at the dim sky with a sinister smile on his face.
Rise!
A lone female lay on a hard rock outcrop near the base of a nearby mountain, staring dully at the horizon. This voice in her head spoke much truth – but to fight for her loved ones? What loved ones? They had all been taken from her, long ago.
In this sad, stricken world…
This voice understood the world, the impossibility of fighting it – as if. The flashes of memories that accompanied it were nothing compared to her own pain and grief. She buried her head in her paws, trying to block out the reminders.
It may seem futile, to fight for what we believe…
Everything was futile. Her mates had known much about Long-Paws, about everything, and it hadn't saved them; she herself had only been lucky. Long-Paws were weak, but they were everywhere, and with every passing night, more and more of this land became too barren or dangerous to live in.
But we can't give up!
She shrieked in frustration, the loudest sound she had made since many cold-seasons past, and clawed at her head. Why shouldn't she!? She had dragged herself through hunts, flying from haven to dwindling haven, since she had found the bones and scraps of meat that were all that remained of her family. And what had it gained her!? Nothing but-
If you want… to keep what you love…
She froze as the voice stuttered and faltered, her mind suddenly filled with memories of bright, wondrous green eyes, wobbly little wings, and adorable little paws. Keep what you love… She saw him take his first flight, heard him calling for his sire, felt him tucked under her wing, the memories and grief blurring into her own… He looked so much like her own precious little fireling… Keep what you love… She saw those eyes turn frightened and desperate, unable to block out what she knew was coming. Her claws dug into her ears, she couldn't live through this again, the whole world was going to burn and she'd rather just-
Never! Give! Up!
Her eyes snapped open, and her paws went to the ground. Who was this Nightstriker, to Sing like this? To know all this pain, and still fight? She… wanted to know. Maybe… if he could could do all that… then the least she could do was-
RISE!
Dreamer gave his head a shake and resumed beating the air with his wings, unsurprised that he had gone off-script and let his grief take control for a few moments; the main thing was that he recovered from it. Rise! he repeated through his dwindling fire, echoed by Fleeting and Reaching's roars as they and five other Nightstrikers who had already joined them wheeled around him with their sound-sight screeching into the night. With everyone fighting for all, we can make a better life! Let our roars be heard, while we still live to roar! This is the night we rise!
With the last of his plasma, he roared one last encouragement before the Song dissipated and tailed off. But with the shriek of Nightstrikers cutting through the air around him, and the synchronised beating of their wings, it almost seemed to keep going.
He took a long, shaky breath, glad that part was over with, and dove down to the ground. He apparently already had five new Nightstrikers to meet, but there was something he needed to do first. Wanderer was still on the ground, watching with wide eyes and narrow pupils. Dreamer couldn't meet his gaze as he landed, staring at the grass between them; he had to do this, and had already apologised, but he still felt bad about it.
After several moments of silence, Wanderer gave his head a shake with a conflicted rumble, then stood and huffed at Dreamer as he walked past. Dreamer churred understanding, having no problem with putting off that particular conversation, and turned to meet their first arrivals.
They were sat stiffly in two groups, apparently two different families; Fleeting and Reaching stood awkwardly to one side. To Dreamer's surprise, Wanderer walked up to one of the males and gave him a grateful purr with a tip of his head. "This territory was nicer, doing what you said."
The male glanced to his one mate, who seemed somewhat shy, and purred in reply. "We were helped also, when we flew here. Maybe… not would be here now, if not had that kindness…"
"Losing family is painful," a female with pale eyes from the other family agreed. "Someone helped us also. That kindness made our territory tolerable."
"Very good when all give help," Dreamer purred, his heart warmed that at least these Nightstrikers were looking out for each other, if only a little. "I hope all will give much help after this fight. I will need it… but will make life safe for our fledglings." It promised to be a difficult, gruelling, and practically endless task, but someone had to do it, and he had everything he needed to make it work.
"I want another hatchling," the shy female said quietly, leaning into her mate, who draped his wing over her and nuzzled her head. "I not know if I ever can make another egg… but I want to try…"
The other female from the larger family growled, baring her teeth and digging her claws into the ground. "I happy if we can kill Long-Paw that killed our mates," she spat.
"We need do that first," Dreamer agreed with a low growl. Even aside from the man's conviction, he was the target of an entire species' animosity, and his death served as an initial cause to rally around. "We should fly now, others will meet us there." He had freely announced his location, a subtle detail of his Song, but any who wished to join him were given another location to fly to, well within a night's flying of his old territory but far enough away that they would not be easily found; there was no point flying here only to fly there.
He glanced to Fleeting and Reaching, huffed determination, then spread his wings and took to the sky, joined by his mates and the five other Nightstrikers. To his dismay, Wanderer didn't fly by his side, but fell back to fly behind Reaching in the formation they quickly settled into. He was the one who had always been strong, had got them through tough times and held them together. Dreamer needed his whole family for what was to come, but Wanderer in particular. Hopefully he just needed time to come around.
That was assuming they managed to destroy Grimmel, though, which promised to be a brutal fight. There was no telling how many Nightrikers were even left in the world, or how many of those were willing to fight… but hopefully it would be enough. It had to be – because if it wasn't, then they had already lost.
Dreamer walked among the low hills in a daze with no idea where the rest of his family was, wondering if he was delirious. Dozens of Nightstrikers surrounded him, every sound he had ever heard a Nightstriker make all mixing together into a rough communal growl; it didn't feel anything like the Lighstrikers' nest, though that could be more due to circumstances.
Perhaps part of it was the larger families. When he had arrived – having picked up a pawful more along the way – the few families already present had been mostly keeping to themselves, eyeing each other warily. But as he'd started talking to them, listening to their tales and fears and usually how much they wanted to kill the one who had murdered a mate or fledgling, the various families had begun talking to each other too, until everyone was engaged in something. He wondered how long this was likely to go on for, the sky-fire was not long coming and they would need rest for the following night.
He also wondered why he was the least bit surprised about how much mating was going on. Not that he didn't understand – rekindled spark of hope, upcoming fight for their lives, one last chance for passion before leaping into the fray – but did they really need to be so blatant about it? Seemingly half the families he spoke to all leapt at each other almost before they'd finished talking with him, and the other half already smelled of it.
One scene caught his eye, because although it involved two Nightstrikers biting and gripping each other, it seemed to be because they were fighting. He wandered over, watching with interest as two males tackled and snapped and clawed at each other with reckless abandon, surrounded by two more males and four females, a number of curious onlookers gathered behind them. "I should worry?" Dreamer warbled, approaching to sit between a male and female.
"No," the female swiped, glancing at him in amusement. Keeping an eye on the fight, she leaned in to scent him, and he scented her in reply – despite the sheer number of scents he'd taken in recently, he distinctly counted seven mates on her, implying this group was one huge family rather than two feuding ones as he had initially assumed. Confusion, he warbled.
The male beside him rumbled amusement. "Males all fight, then females all fight," he explained. "Male, also female, who win both fights can mate together." Of course, Dreamer thought with a roll of his eyes. "We got bored," the male said with a shrug of his wings. "Not can mate if not win. Want more if need fight for it."
"Yes, but we still mate even if not win," the female laughed. "That is even better, when not is allowed." One of the males fighting in the middle managed to get on top of the other and drag him to the ground, though the pin was precarious, and the six Nightstrikers around them all tensed and shuffled in excitement.
Dreamer shook his head and left them to it, resuming his search for someone unoccupied to talk to. He was the one bringing them together like this, and there was every chance some or all of them wouldn't make it back. He felt it his responsibility to get to know as many as he could as much as he could.
"Hunter?" a voice asked, sounding desperate and disbelieving. It caught Dreamer's attention because it had repeated itself, a bit louder than the first time, and he looked towards the source to find a female staring directly at him. He hesitantly glanced the other way, seeing nobody she might be referring to, and when he looked back she was approaching him with slow, halting steps.
He was still trying to figure out how to respond when she leaned in to scent his snout, and automatically scented her in reply… but then he was even more confused as she whined in sheer happiness and licked up his cheek, stepping into him, wrapping a paw over his shoulders and pressing her head into his neck. She didn't smell as if she was courting him or anything, though her lonely scent suggested she had no family of her own, but when he tried to back away she practically climbed onto him and dragged him to the ground; he was too shocked and confused by this random female to think rationally.
"Dam!?" a familiar voice barked, and a moment later the female scrambled off him. Dreamer managed to roll to his paws in time to see the female's wide, confused eyes before Wanderer tackled her, though now she was as stunned as Dreamer.
Somewhat amusingly, Wanderer was as unfazed by her confusion as much as she had been by Dreamer's, standing over her to nuzzle and lick her with ecstatic squeaks while his tail thrashed behind him. He didn't overwhelm her for long though, jumping back and gleefully bounding around her while she bayed confusion. "Dam, this my mate, Dreamer! I hatched him again, much time past, so we have same body. Dreamer! This… This is my dam!"
Dreamer and the female stared blankly at each other for several long moments, both processing the sudden development. That made no sense, she wasn't related to them at all… but, of course, Nightstrikers weren't related to all of their family… Not usually, anyway. And of course, she had mistaken him for Wanderer because they shared the same body, the same scent…
"Hunter?" Dreamer warbled to Wanderer with a smirk.
Wanderer wilted, hunching as if trying to hide under his wings. "I made new name when I flew to those cold small-lands," he muttered, then padded back to the female. "Dam, I am Wanderer now. I… We thought those wing-hunters… when you not came back…"
She looked up at him, her eyes dilating again. "You saved him," she hummed, then relaxed and gave Wanderer a loving nuzzle with relieved, happy whines.
Dreamer felt a bit out of place. He supposed she was his mother in law, in an odd roundabout way, but… did that mean he should call her Dam too? Get to know her? Rather than try to deal with any of that, he slinked off and left them to it, figuring he could always catch up with them later-
And almost walked snout-first into the biggest Nightstriker he had ever seen, freezing in place a claw-length from a large, muscular chest. They both backed up with startled, apologetic croons, which didn't suit the big male at all. "Please tell me you are here to help kill bad wing-hunters," Dreamer joked nervously, tipping his head in invitation as he continued walking.
"They killed our mates, yes," the male rumbled in a deep voice, falling into step with Dreamer – even his stride was almost half again as long. "Do I intimidate you?"
"I fought bigger," Dreamer chuckled, slowing to let a pair of females cross his path as they playfully chased each other.
Understanding, the male rumbled while they resumed walking. "You have very good thinking. Strength is important, but knowing how to use it is important also. My mate had very good thinking… but I not could protect them…"
"It not your fault…" Even though it was a bit hypocritical to say, as he blamed himself just as much for failing Leaper. "Grrr, that is why I need do this, so we not need more strength, more good thinking, to protect our families. Who we are should be enough. Wrrr, what your name is?"
"I am Crasher," the big male introduced himself with a dip of his head. "My mate, Watching, is here somewhere…" He glanced around and shrugged cluelessly.
Dreamer dryly rumbled amusement. "I also not know where Fleeting, Reaching are. But this is good. Let all us enjoy this, before we fight next night. I will do all I can to protect all…" He sighed, already burdened by the deaths that would almost certainly follow; even if they were inevitable, and would be far fewer than if he did nothing. "But I will need your strength, all our strength, to make our lives safe. Ensure you not die, next night." Crasher hesitated, and Dreamer glanced across at him. "Maybe you should find your mate," he said lightly, catching his scent, and Crasher chuffed agreement before taking to the air, which groaned under his enormous wings.
Not the first time Dreamer had inspired such feelings this night; he was probably a significant contributor to much of the growling and howling still going on around him. But it was refreshing, really, how honest Nightstrikers were with their feelings. Having said that, he supposed they didn't have much choice, their feelings being communicated in their scent.
A single flash of white caught his eye, and he wandered over to investigate, weaving his way through towards the edge of the crowd. One Lightstriker sat on her haunches in a huddle with two dark counterparts, all engaged in fervent discussion, which was somewhat unusual for dragons. He didn't want to interrupt, but one of them noticed him looking and beckoned with a toss of his head. "Not seen other Lightstrikers away from their nest," Dreamer warbled in a light and curious tone as he approached.
"Not was my choice," the white female said neutrally. "But I happy now. I enjoy my freedom."
They made room for him as he reached them, exchanging scents – not three mates as he had assumed, rather the two Nightstrikers were related, perhaps siblings sharing a sire or dam. "I am Kindler," the male said in a deep voice that spoke of age and wisdom, matching the intensity of his pale eyes, then gestured to the Lightstriker. "This my mate, Diving, also my sister Storming." He rumbled to himself with an idle glance around. "I not thought anyone could bring all us together like this. But I not know if it will be enough."
"What choice we have?" Storming growled sharply, head low and eyes narrow. "We kill them here, or they kill us. Then we not need hide like scared hatchlings."
"I not plan to die in this fight," Dreamer said firmly, sitting on his haunches. "Some will, yes… I will carry their deaths for much time. But if we not do this, Nightstrikers all will die, one night. We not can let that happen."
"Carry their deaths?" Storming scoffed. "What that mean? You will feel bad? I flew here because I wanted to. I will fight because I want to. If I die, is because I want to!" She huffed at the other two. "We came here for this hatchling?" Disdainful, she snorted loudly, turning her glare back to Dreamer.
"Not worry about her," Diving said with a roll of her eyes, "she just needs to find male. Males. Maybe four would blunt her teeth. That why she is here."
"I not need four males," Storming growled at her. "Just one would be good. But they all are doing… that." She vaguely waved her wing behind herself, towards the crowd, and shuffled her paws uncomfortably; at least Dreamer wasn't the only one. "I just not found male I want. Who wants me for being me."
"Male would need be blind to want you," Diving teased.
"No," Kindler rumbled, "that only would make her more biting."
Agreement, Diving chuffed, "He also need to like that." She stood and walked past Storming, impervious to the persistent glare as she rubbed against her side. "Then when she growls, he will want mating, so she will think that when she growls-"
Dreamer hopped back as Storming tackled Diving with a snarl, and they rolled over each other in a flurry of teeth and claws. Fondness, resignation, Kindler sighed as he watched them wrestle. "I hope your plan works. You not told us everything, so I not know. Hrrr… But you are talking to us, to others… so I trust you to lead this hunt. We will fight with you."
Gratitude, Dreamer purred; seeing Kindler's bulk and scars, and the ferocity and skill displayed by his mate and sister, they were certainly keen fighters. As they watched, Storming managed to get her teeth around Diving's neck and force her to the ground – but rather than yelp or struggle, Diving moaned provocatively and rubbed her back against Storming, who lurched back to gag.
A distinct roar from the sky had Dreamer tense with worry. "Keep each other safe," he said hurriedly and apologetically to Kindler before spinning and leaping into the air, hoping he would get to meet them again another night; they seemed to have at least a few good stories to share.
There were few Nightstrikers in the sky, some having flown a short distance away maybe for some quiet, but still, it was easy to pick out the Monstrous Nightmare. Hookfang recognised his roar, angling towards him, and Dreamer banked around him and escorted him to the ground.
Thankfully, if anyone was nervous by Snotlout dropping from his dragon's back, Dreamer's presence was enough to at least make them hesitate. Just to remove any doubt, he pranced right up to the Long-Paw, playfully headbutted him, and licked him across the face while he was staggered.
"Blegh!" Snotlout exclaimed, wiping his face with his arms and nearly tripping over Hookfang's wing as he backed away. "Wha' wazzat for?"
Dreamer swatted at him, then huffed and turned to see what sort of reception they were getting, deliberately putting his back to the Long-Paw in the process. "I understand Long-Paws," he announced to the wary crowd that was gathering; behind him, he heard Hookfang shuffle a little, probably moving to protect his rider. "Like us, most only want to live. Some even live with dra-, wrrr, wing-hunters, be friends with them. This Long-Paw will fight with us." He stalled, trying to think of some way to tie off the speech, but he'd only be repeating himself. Instead, he just turned back to Snotlout, who was standing confidently beside his dragon. "Not should attack you, but you probably not should wander."
"Don' worry," Snotlout drawled as he dropped to sit on the grass and cross his legs, "dealt with aggressive dragons before. Bu' hey, if they wanna go, I'm up for a few rounds." He reached back and gave his shield a tug; Gronckle Iron, of course, like his weapons.
Amusement, Dreamer huffed, turning back to the crowd to walk through them and trusting Snotlout to handle himself. Although, he felt somewhat underwhelmed. He'd expected fire and snarls and rash actions, not… idle curiosity. Wariness, of course, but they were just as wary of each other.
"You look disappointed," a nearby Nightstriker rumbled.
Dreamer looked up to meet the speaker, a grizzled Nightstriker with many large scars and scar-scales staring at him with one eye and one empty socket. A female stood confidently beside him, though for whatever reason she remained silent. "Some," Dreamer admitted with a tip of his head, then leaned forward to exchange scents with them both and confirmed they were a mated pair. "Thought maybe someone would attack. What your names are?"
"I Seeker," the male introduced himself, flaring his wings. "This my mate, Leaving. I not know what others think, but I not worried about one Long-Paw."
"One Long-Paw hurt all these families," Dreamer rumbled, flaring his wings to gesture to the crowd around them. "His wing-hunters are very dangerous also, but he is most dangerous."
Seeker shrugged. "He not gave me these scars. I just fought many Long-Paws. We also both were trapped by big water-hunter-alpha for much time… I saw you fighting it, in those thoughts you showed us. Good that you won."
Agreement, Dreamer chuffed, trying not to think too hard about a male and female Nightstriker in Drago's care; though thankfully, their biology protected them from certain horrors, which was something at least. "You have been through much," he hummed, sitting on his haunches and making himself comfortable. "Will you tell me?"
Leaving nuzzled her mate, and Seeking chuffed agreeably – but before he could start, Fleeting and Reaching descended into a landing nearby and beckoned, giving Seeker a curious glance. "Maybe later," Dreamer rumbled apologetically.
"Maybe," Seeker chuffed. "If I stay. We like to fly," and that he said with a purr to his mate, "maybe will fly to this strange Long-Paw-small-land you showed us. Is interesting."
"Wait until hot-season," Dreamer advised, though Seeker just chuffed unconcerned. "Wrrr, then maybe you can tell me another night." They dipped their heads respectfully to each other before Dreamer turned to his mates, who wordlessly spread their wings and led him into the air.
He followed the females in a winding, lazy glide around the gathering. It had seemed so many from down there, but up here, it was clear just how few of them there were… Granted, this was only the Nightstrikers within two nights' flying, but from what they had observed while fleeing Grimmel, the vast majority now lived in the same area Wanderer and the females had ended up in. This could very well be over half of what remained of their species.
All the more reason that Grimmel needed to be stopped now. Dreamer supposed the Lightstrikers could help fill in the gaps a bit, although it made him very sad to think Nightstrikers might eventually fade away… Not that he had anything against mixed offspring, of course. What would such a mix be called? Perhaps a Duskstriker, the beginning of the night when the land became the realm of hunters… He would ask Kindler and Diving about it if he ever got the chance.
He realised they were descending, beyond the edges of the congregation of Nightstrikers, and warbled curiously to himself. Aside from a happy but brief reunion and the flight here, he hadn't seen much of his mates since… since he'd flown off on his own. He had little idea of where they were taking him or why. They seemed to be coping… although Fleeting's expressions seemed somewhat dulled now, not quite the fierce and fearless female she had been. Given what multiple people had told him, he was probably the same.
Dreamer smelled it before he saw it, a strong earthy scent drawing his attention to the freshly dug hole in the side of one of the low hills. It wasn't a very big hole, barely wider than his shoulders, but after landing next to it he curiously poked his head inside to discover a den that was surprisingly spacious, though by no means big, just barely big enough for the four of them. Fleeting and Reaching's scents were prevalent, and while it had been dug down and would thus probably flood with the first rain, it was quiet and cosy, a pleasant place to spend the night. Though there was something about those scents, they were very…
A snout nosed its way under his tail to lick him, and with a startled yelp, he jumped in the only direction he could go; into the den. He turned to find Reaching slipping in after him, her purr clearly audible in the quiet. "We are good at digging dens, now," she hummed, and in the still air, he could clearly make out Fleeting's scent all over her as she padded up to him.
"We not seen you in much time," Fleeting purred while she followed them inside, "Played game to decide who gets what they want first… but we will be fair…" She put a paw over his shoulders to push him to the ground, and a whine escaped him while they licked his neck and chest.
If he was honest, he hadn't felt any desire in a long time, just dead numbness; half the reason he was doing all this was just to give himself something to do other than finding out how long it would take to drown in a lake. But his mates had suddenly given his imagination a lot to run away with. Their intentions were pretty clear, but what specifically did each of them want? How had they decided on who got it? Who had won? The slow, tender grooming was making it difficult to think straight…
He wasn't certain they could melt the ice that numbed him inside. But they were making a very good attempt at it, and… he didn't want to disappoint them. They were trying, not only for him but for themselves, too. So he let himself relax, stretching out to enjoy the attention and hooking his paws over them to hold them close and let them know their efforts were appreciated. If nothing else, life had taught him to enjoy such things while he could.
A quiet breeze blew through the tranquil night, scattered clouds obscuring the sliver of sky-ice. It would have been peaceful, but the subtle hum of pawfuls of wings gave it an ominous atmosphere.
It reminded Wanderer of a previous life, and not in a good way. Flying above a Long-Paw nest, a crowd of wings in the air and his hide crawling with a foreboding sense of anticipation. Would this be the night he was finally shot down for good? Nightstrikers lived long lives, but the sheer number of deaths he had witnessed while under control of the queen had instilled a strong sense of mortality, almost expecting each flight to be his last.
He glanced across at Dreamer, at his flat, level stare below, and wondered what was going through his mind. Dreamer hated death. Now he had brought pawfuls of Nightstrikers together, with the intention of ending this despicable Long-Paw and then somehow also the problem of all the Long-Paws plaguing the land. What was more, he was using something that Wanderer had hoped to never hear again.
Dreamer was hurting, raging in a way that only Dreamer could; camly, without so much as baring his teeth. What would he do? What wouldn't he do? Wanderer almost felt as if he didn't know him anymore. Still, when he'd located the den Fleeting and Reaching had told him about to rest for the light, he'd found them all slumbering in a musky, contented pile. Dreamer was still their mate, still himself.
And as much as Wanderer despised thoughts in his head that weren't his… he wouldn't have found his dam otherwise. She was nothing like he remembered her, now shy, thin, and weak, but she'd seemed to find some warmth in being with him, talking and flying together; admittedly, he hadn't been able to help showing off. He had flown the nest he'd hatched in, didn't need his parents anymore… but he had a feeling it had helped her immensely, to meet him again and know he was alive and… relatively well.
So he felt conflicted. He didn't like thoughts being put in his head, not even Dreamer's. But, as Dreamer was proving, it was possible for it to do some good as well. To do that good, someone had to use it, and he trusted Dreamer with it more than any other.
He growled to himself and shook his head, focusing on the nest below. The Long-Paw nest where this had all started, that had intruded into their territory and brought the bad hunters to chase them away. Those hunters were there now, slinking through the shadows, waiting for them to attack. Pawfuls of Long-Paws flitted about as well, some keeping watch, as futile as that was.
Dreamer took a deep breath, looking down over it all with cold eyes, and then his fire shone faintly through his bared teeth.
Fire
It was not a command, and Wanderer opted to save his fire for later, partly just to prove he could. But pawfuls of shots streaked down to the ground below, converging on the Long-Paw nest – a thunderous roar of explosions, coupled with the crunching and crumbling of the stone dens and walls, preceded a rush of air, the updraft reaching them even this high. Dust and thick smoke instantly engulfed the nest, smothering any fleeting fires and obscuring the damage. Wanderer glanced back at Dreamer as they coasted on the warm air.
No sense worrying about him now. Wanderer turned his attention to the imminent fight, falling into his old habit of analysing the battle from afar, as two pawfuls of Death-Grippers flapped their way into the air with the clouds of smoke billowing around their wings. "Something is strange," he rumbled, instantly uneasy. These Death-Grippers were at too much of a disadvantage, heavily outnumbered, but it was something about the way they were flying too, hastier than he was used to seeing.
Agreement, Dreamer growled, and then his fire flared in his mouth to Sing a warning to back off and stay wary. A few of the Nightstrikers who had dropped to engage immediately pulled up and swerved away, but two pawfuls committed, filling the night air with the screech of their wings while they hurtled down towards the Death-Grippers. They made contact in violent collisions, aiming for wings and tails, slightly outnumbered by the Death-Grippers but tearing through them nonetheless-
A deafening tone drowned out everything else, and Wanderer threw his head down to clamp his paws over his ears in an attempt to stifle the sound. His head seemed to vibrate with the noise, but as high up as he was, it didn't affect him so much that he would fall out of the air. The Death-Grippers, however, immediately seized and plummeted back into the dissipating smoke and dust with pained shrieks, while the Nightstrikers who had engaged were clearly crippled but managed to stay airborne to glide away from the nest. Except for one, who just couldn't quite clear the top of the wall, and was quickly set upon by scurrying, slashing Long-Paws. A few shots struck down around them, giving the Nightstriker some room to fight off the immediate assault, but they didn't look in good shape.
Find those bells, Dreamer snarled as the sound died off, an understanding of the offending noise-making things suddenly appearing in Wanderer's mind. Putting aside his discomfort about that and the downed Nightstriker, he scanned the nest below and strained to see through the lingering blur from the noise. They would need to be somewhere safe from the initial attack, but anything destroyed by Nightstriker fire tended to drop down rather than toppling, so…
He spotted a suspicious shadow marring the big wall surrounding the nest, and fired at it on a hunch. The shot streaked down to strike true, a brief flash of light throwing a puff of dust and smoke out of the side of the wall and causing a section of it to crumble and fall. A flat note briefly rang out, proof of his kill, and moments later other shots streaked through the night-
Pull back! shouted Dreamer through his fire, even the thought sounding urgent – moments later, barely enough time for everyone to make distance, another painful chorus of metallic groans rang up at them, though not quite as bad as before. Wanderer shook his head as it died off, more quickly than the first time.
Dreamer rumbled warily, wide eyes flicking over the scene below. "Fight will begin now," he growled as the sound faded to nothing. Almost by his word, the nest below erupted into motion, a storm of Death-Grippers leaping into the air from all over and even around the ruined nest, pawfuls and pawfuls of them, perhaps almost two for every Nightstriker. The Nightstrikers converging on the nest wavered, some veering off entirely, but Dreamer roared through his fire and every Nightstriker with them flared their wings and dove to intercept…
All of them except Wanderer, who had heard nothing from whatever Dreamer had said, and Reaching, presumably the same. Wanderer glanced questioningly at him – he didn't feel right, just watching from up here – but Dreamer grunted wary at him. Grrr, it was fair that he needed someone to watch and protect him while he focused on the fight, and Fleeting was down there somewhere so it wasn't as if he was holding them back from danger.
It did seem to be going fairly well, all things considered. There were just so many Death-Grippers, these had to be all of them, even the ones kept trapped to make eggs. Killing all these would end the horrible hunting, it had to. But… if all these Nightstrikers were to die, there might not be enough left in the world to survive.
This had always been a fight for survival, but Dreamer had brought it all to one place and taken control of it, just like he had multiple times in the past. They had won all those fights. But would this be the fight that grounded them?
A particularly large Death-Gripper broke out of the swirling flock, beating its wings hard to ascend and shrugging off multiple blasts of fire. A Nightstriker lunged for it, going for its wings, but it stabbed them with its tail and rolled – whatever had happened, the Death-Gripper kept ascending, while the Nightstriker plummeted, one of their wings fluttering down after them.
Challenge! Wanderer shrieked, folding his wings and diving for the threat rising up to meet them.
Dreamer bared his teeth, trying to stay focused on the battle. He could understand why Wanderer was throwing himself into a fight, particularly as that Death-Gripper had been targeting him, but it was bad enough knowing Fleeting was down there somewhere, hopefully still flying around and not lying in a pool of her own blood.
No, he needed to pay attention. Those bells were a problem, had even downed the Nightstrikers whose ears Snotlout had helped cover, but Grimmel wouldn't use them again as long as all those Death-Grippers were in the air… until he thought he was going to lose. They needed to be found before that point, or the Death-Grippers lured away from the nest. And he'd take a bite out of his own wing if that was all Grimmel had prepared…
The Death-Grippers were finally getting up to altitude and speed, not as fast as the Nightstrikers harrying them but fast enough to utilise their tails and long talons. Unlike the first few, these were, for the most part, organised and disciplined, not just flying up in an eager frenzy. They whirled around like a tornado, presenting few to no opportunities to attack, just flying defensively. He tried pressing on his fire to force them back to the ground, but as expected, they were still somehow immune. There was no way to avoid a fight, but he could still tip the scales – he had already advised everyone to hold their fire and be cautious, but while he had easily predicted the bells, he wasn't sure what was going to come next.
The reveal was both worse and yet not as bad as he was expecting, massive columns of light flaring to life and shining up into the sky. The Death-Grippers scattered, chasing after their now illuminated prey in packs of up to ten, and Dreamer hurriedly barked instructions through his fire, preparing a surprise of his own. Fly safe, he advised all Nightstrikers, just stay alive! They only needed to hold out a short time.
Through the bright haze, he saw a different light flash to life, the same things Grimmel had used in their last fight, and though it was too soon, he knew he was out of time. Now! he barked, attaching the message to a different kind of dragon – at once, three dozen lights flashed throughout the nest, obliterating about half the light columns, at least one more bell, and multiple rally points for Grimmel's ground forces. Several groups of Death-Grippers broke off to dive back down to the nest, which Dreamer did his best to communicate so any nearby Lightstrikers could avoid them, then just had to trust that the camouflaged dragons could handle themselves.
That still left a number of those columns of light, but they had a bit of breathing room now. As he had practised, he picked out several Nightstrikers and gave them a target to fire on, attaching the message to them specifically so that it would not distract anyone else – at once, their fire lashed down at one of the columns, Death-Grippers throwing themselves into the path of the shots but two or three making it through to smash whatever device was at the bottom.
So far the battle had been tentative and testing, but now both sides were throwing themselves at each other with fervour, Nightstrikers taking out years of grief and frustration on the very cause of it and Death-Grippers driven by their twisted instincts and conditioning. There was no way to know which side was coming out on top… The only clear fact was that both sides were losing.
As Dreamer organised the destruction of the third light column, a horrifyingly familiar shape rose from the rocks just behind the nest, four Death-Grippers hauling a wide four-pronged metal frame into the sky. Don't engage it, he growled, reminding everyone of its capabilities in the process – but it wasn't a command, he wasn't forcing any of this on anyone, and several Nightstrikers broke out of the fighting to fly at a chance for revenge.
Perhaps he could have restrained them, if he really tried. But that would have only made them easy prey while they resisted. He couldn't regret their choices… Not even when those choices inevitably led to them falling to the Death-Grippers or Grimmel's weapons. All he could do was continue to focus down these cursed lights.
Some were winking out on their own, no doubt some Lightstrikers still prowling around, although those flares dotted around the nest would be making it difficult for them. He couldn't quite make out what was happening on the ground, but flashes of steel and occasional flickers of a ballista wedged in the odd corner spoke to just as fierce a battle down there.
Only do what I can do. He guided the aerial battle around Grimmel, urging Nightstrikers out of the way as best he could and directing them to places they could help. He grit his teeth as a Death-Gripper managed to snag a Nightstriker's wing, the hapless dragon roaring as they were beset upon and dragged to the ground – another life snuffed out. It at least allowed him to redirect nearby Nightstrikers to other targets. He was gradually making sense of the chaos, seeing the patterns, and every time he Sang another column of light winked out or more Death-Grippers fell from the sky, the battle becoming a little less dangerous.
With a start, he glanced around himself, finding Wanderer flying with him again and Reaching gliding nearby. Both sported fresh wounds, but were still looking out for him; he'd have to tell them how grateful he was for that later. Now was time to dive into the fray himself, while the tide of the battle turned and he wasn't needed to finely manage everything going on. Confidence, he barked, then he, Wanderer, and Reaching were diving, hurtling down towards the one who had pulled the trigger and torn their son away from them.
Dreamer aimed for one of the Death-Grippers carrying the frame, but another threw itself in front of him with slashing talons. He flicked his wings to briefly slow himself, timing his collision with its swing so that it couldn't retaliate or stop him from ramming his shoulder into its wing with a crack. He tumbled off the shrieking dragon and quickly caught himself, narrowly avoiding a stabbing tail that Wanderer grabbed and nearly tore free of its owner.
Reaching fired at the frame, and a ballista bolt went wide of Dreamer a moment later, passing him with a brief hiss as it hurtled into the night. On my signal, he Sang to his mates, and any nearby allies, urging Fleeting to join them even if just so he knew she was okay – Grimmel whistled, and Dreamer suddenly found himself fleeing what felt like a score of Death-Grippers, forcing him to abandon the immediate fight to desperately weave through the battle. Now! he barked, hoping the explosions behind him managed to achieve something, then focused on leading his pursuers to their deaths.
These Death-Grippers all needed to die, they were simply too dangerous to even allow to disappear into the wild; if someone else got it into their head to train them like this, it could all start again. Looking around, the battle seemed to be slowly tipping, the Death-Grippers on the defensive and gradually falling from the sky as they were singled out and overwhelmed, no more lights to pick out their targets. This would resolve itself before long. Now all that was left was to kill Grimmel.
He glanced back in time to see the last Death-Gripper tailing him to take a shot from behind and below with a pained screech, a Nightstriker darting up beside it a moment later to tear into its wing. Relief, gratitude, Dreamer barked to Fleeting while she dropped the Death-Gripper, and she shook her head with a snort as she pulled up beside him.
They swerved back through the fight towards Grimmel to see another Nightstriker jolt in the air as a long steel bolt ran them through. Dreamer grit his teeth as they plummeted, and barked another message through his fire to just focus on whittling down the Death-Grippers and stay away from Grimmel; he was too dangerous to engage recklessly.
Grimmel himself was standing behind one of the upper ballistae, eyes wide, jaw clenched, and crossbow pointed at Wanderer who was forced to swerve away or risk taking a dart that instead found nothing but air. Grimmel had reloaded in an instant to do the same to Reaching, who was also flying at him, though he wasn't fast enough to stop both Dreamer and Fleeting coming up around him.
Dreamer slammed into one of the Death-Grippers carrying the frame, feeling it jolt below him a moment later as Fleeting did the same. He twisted away from the tail that stabbed at him, digging in his hindclaws to shred its wings and push off, letting it fall with the frame. Grimmel was already moving, lunging for one of the remaining Death-Grippers and clambering onto its back while they fell.
Rather than pull up, Grimmel urged his Death-Gripper into a dive towards the nest, giving another short series of whistles. A mere moment from firing at him, Dreamer was forced to swerve away from nearby Death-Grippers breaking formation to lunge at him, and though he had them swiftly fired upon and killed in his wake, it slowed him down. He growled, seeing Wanderer, Fleeting, and Reaching in similar situations, and backed off, wary of flying in blind and potentially straight into another trap. Grimmel was trapped here, with no means of escape-
He realised the error in that thinking at the same moment that Grimmel reached the nest and ducked into the big tunnel, the one that led through the mountain. Dreamer snarled to himself as he beat his wings – but of course, the entrance collapsed moments later, which he really should have expected.
"Over!" Wanderer barked, already pulling up towards the peak of the mountain. Dreamer grit his teeth and glanced around as he followed, trying to get an idea of how the fight was going, though it wasn't easy. Everything was in chaos, the orderly defensive formation of Death-Grippers having finally been broken, but while it still seemed as if most of them were still in the air, there were a lot of their corpses on the ground, maybe half at a very rough guess. Fires were rampant through the nest, a wooden scaffolding collapsing even while he watched, the fighting was well out of range of any ballistae, and there didn't seem to be any more big lights.
From what he could tell, it was only a matter of time before the Death-Grippers were overwhelmed. He Sang a short message to focus on taking them out but not to go any closer to the nest, as well as advising any lingering Lightstrikers to pull out, before turning his focus to racing Grimmel to the opposite side of the mountain, catching up to his mates.
Perhaps Grimmel had expected him to control everyone more directly. That would of course have been disastrous; such a fight was far too large to manage every individual part of, rather all he was doing was just getting everyone in the same place to give them a fighting chance, and directing the fight a bit. But Grimmel might not know how Singing worked, which would explain his tactics. He had probably expected to come up against either a wild horde of dragons, or a singular hive mind lacking individual thought.
Whatever the case… for everything he had done… he was going to die. Tonight.
Wanderer, always the faster flyer, crested the mountain first, followed by Dreamer and then Fleeting and Reaching. They scanned the skies and forest as they descended, slowing for each other, but found no sign of a fleeing Death-Gripper.
If it hadn't taken to the air, they could track it, and there was a small chance they had beaten it here and could trap it inside. The four of them silently hurtled down the slope, towards where the tunnel emerged into a large unnatural clearing in the forest, eyes sharp for their prey. Fleeting and Reaching levelled off and fell behind to keep watch, though Dreamer began to feel uneasy as he flared his wings into a landing near the middle of the clearing-
"Checkmate," Grimmel called out smugly from the mouth of the tunnel, clicking his fingers, and Death-Grippers poured out either side of him. Dreamer froze in indecision as he readied his last shot, watching the horde of eager Death-Grippers sprint towards him and Wanderer – fight or flee!?
He was startled by a strange, high-pitched bark from above, something that didn't even sound like a Nightstriker. But while he and Wanderer jolted with surprise, the Death-Grippers had an entirely different reaction, hesitating and tensing up, many even tripping over themselves and tumbling to the ground.
Wanderer lunged, and Dreamer leapt after him without hesitation, grabbing the first Death-Gripper and burning through the back of its skull; he had an abundance of air-fire, having only used his plasma to direct the battle. He was knocked off even before the Death-Gripper went still, but another strange, high-pitched bark again locked them up, allowing him to scramble to his paws in time to see its head spontaneously and inexplicably wrench to the side with blood gushing from its throat. Changing targets, he leapt at one lunging for Wanderer, a shot from above slamming a Death-Gripper to the ground beside him-
Tusks scratched painfully across his chest a moment before teeth collided with his shoulder, shoving him to the ground and trying to find purchase. He felt it tense at another odd screech, and curled around to kick it in the jaw with his hindlegs – searing, blinding pain tore through his wing, and he screeched as he writhed away, feeling the talon cut through the membrane. Warm blood splashed his side as he slashed at his newest attacker in a pained frenzy, breathing a stream of fire at its face and attacking with everything he had, then leaping from its corpse to the next dragon lunging at him.
Wanderer's pained screech distracted him for a moment and something slashed across his face, but when he spun towards the attacker it was already pinned by Reaching. "Help him!" she roared, mouth dripping blood, before lunging past him and tackling another that Fleeting was grappling with to keep it away from Wanderer, who was lying on his chest with a paw to his face, teeth bared and appearing in shock.
Dreamer leapt over to him, sharply inhaling as he saw the deep cut across his face and through his eye, the amount of blood that was flowing from it. "Still!" Dreamer barked, hastily shoving him to the ground to flame the wound, quickly running his fire across the entirety of it. Wanderer snarled, digging his claws into the ground, but managed to stand when Dreamer let him up.
"Hunt!" Fleeting barked, wrestling a Death-Gripper's tail to help keep it pinned while a distortion in the air tore at its throat. Grimmel was nowhere to be seen, while five Death-Grippers remained standing, although they were struggling to move for some reason. They should be taken care of first…
No, Grimmel wouldn't have bothered to run on foot. He would be on one of the Death-Grippers, and they had come too far to let him get away now! "Not die!" he shouted, then used the last of his fire in a sound-sight-bark into the trees. The immediate battle, the Lightstriker with them, and the forest all flashed through his mind, including the Death-Gripper sprinting away with a Long-Paw on its back.
Dreamer growled and leapt into the forest, glancing aside as Wanderer loped alongside him. His face was a mess, right eye completely ruined, but he held his fire to reveal the way and seemed to have one more fight left in him, for which Dreamer was grateful; there was one last Death-Gripper to kill.
The sounds of fighting quickly fell away behind them, though for a little while, Wanderer's fire showed the three blurry figures tackling and bringing down the slightly crisper images of the Death-Grippers. He could only put his trust in them as they faded into obscurity.
Ahead, the hard carapace of the Death-Gripper echoed Wanderer's fire nicely, gradually becoming clearer as they bore down on it; even injured and exhausted, Nightstrikers were among the fastest dragons. One more Death-Gripper, and this will all be over!
Movement flashed through the dark trees as they gained on their prey. Wanderer fired, the bright shot lancing through the trees, and the Death-Gripper yelped as it stumbled, throwing Grimmel off its back – they caught up to it in a heartbeat, Dreamer grabbing its tail and Wanderer ducking under its wing to grapple its side and sink his teeth into its neck, and they held it down while it bucked and twitched in its dying throes.
Luckily, it hadn't been able to fly, one of its wings freshly scorched and ruined. Dreamer gingerly stretched his own wing to look at it with a wince, the membrane parting and hanging loosely between two of the fingers; he was grounded. But that didn't matter much right now. If Snotlout still lived he would probably be able to patch it together as Dam had apparently done many times for injured dragons, and it wasn't bleeding anymore. There was also a dart of blue liquid sticking through it, which he shook loose with a huff.
They still had one more thing to do. Determined, Wanderer growled, panting heavily, as he stepped off the Death-Gripper and faced the sounds of a human blundering through the dark forest. One more hunt, and this nightmare would end.
In resolute silence, they took a step, then a stride, and fell into a silent lope through the trees. Dreamer had expected Grimmel to go down swinging, but honestly, it was far more fitting that he died like helpless, frightened prey, fleeing something he could not fight or outrun, something he could barely even see.
For all the head start he'd had, they bore down on him far too quickly, far quicker than he deserved. But there could be no hesitation, not with this one.
They leapt, and Grimmel's back straightened in realisation. Their claws met flesh, swiping aside the blind resistance to pierce and stab the despicable, vile, hated Long-Paw that had put them all through so much pain and grief. They were so swift in their assault that he couldn't even scream, could only accept them tearing apart his arms so that he could not fight, ripping through his legs so that he could not flee, and crushing his chest so that he could not even rise.
Dreamer panted heavily, staring disdainfully down at the bloody, twitching mess in the grass. Grimmel gasped pitifully, struggling to breathe, coughing on the blood trickling from a set of gashes across his face and only one arm so much as spasming. Not a corpse. Not yet.
That right was reserved for a dam.
He and Wanderer waited patiently until Fleeting emerged from the trees, arriving at a trot but slowing to a calm, unhurried walk. Grimmel's wide, wild eyes stared at her as she approached, and she stared coldly back at the one who had pulled the trigger and killed the fledgling whose egg she had laid.
She slowly stepped onto his chest with a crack, and Grimmel wheezed his last breath as she shot a stream of fire through his sternum. He twitched a few more moments, mouth wide in a silent scream, before he finally went still.
Silence filled the forest, just the gentle breeze rustling the leaves. Dreamer stared off into the darkness, feeling his heart lift and then slowly fall… An irrational expectation that his little Leaper would come bounding out of the trees, a deep and desperate hope that killing Grimmel would somehow return his son. Of course, reality didn't work that way. Killing did not bring back the dead.
But, in some situations, it could protect those still living. He sighed and turned back to his mates, grateful they were still with him and relieved that there would be no more fleeing for their lives, no more fighting for mere survival. It was finally over.
Dreamer had some time to think on his way back through the forest, as much as he could think through the persistent, searing pain in his wing; Wanderer was semi-unconscious, but seemed stable, and Fleeting was staying with him. The wind whistled through the leaves in a painfully familiar melody, reminding him of when he was last in this forest, laughing and playing.
Could they say they had truly defeated Grimmel? In hindsight, the Death-Grippers at the nest were inexperienced, not like the twenty or so used for hunting. Just fodder, to weaken and slow the enemy. The ones that had been waiting in the tunnel were rested and fresh. Had they suddenly appeared upon the battle on the other side of the mountain, coming in with a height and speed advantage, it would have been a slaughter.
That didn't mean they had lost to him. They could have fled, made it back over the mountain and roared at everyone to flee. Nobody would have won, both sides having dealt a serious blow to each other, but it wouldn't have been a loss either.
But what had caused the Death-Grippers to hesitate, in that crucial moment? Dreamer was too curious to let it be.
He emerged into the clearing to find Reaching sitting some distance away from the Death-Grippers strewn about the grass, warily eyeing a male Lightstriker who stood beside one of the corpses with a hindleg raised high. As Dreamer approached, the Lightstriker finished what he was doing, walked over to another corpse, and raised his leg again to defile that one too. Gratitude, wary, Dreamer churred, sitting on his haunches a few body-lengths away.
The Lightstriker twisted his head to look at him, eyes wavering in a half-narrowed state and ears tensed back. "I regret making these," he growled, kicking the Death-Gripper in the head as he lowered his leg. "Never could protect them from their own tails. All dead, now. Good." Amused, incredulous, he barked, sitting on his haunches. "Dead. All dead."
Dreamer had a nagging hunch about who exactly this was; if only the twins could be here now… "They not hated you," he rumbled on impulse, drawing on fragments of memories that somewhat resonated with his own experiences. "Only what you did."
"What I did," the male huffed. "I killed my brother. Brothers. I found things. Showed Long-Paws how to use them. Wrrr, they never saw me. I just wanted him to…" Frustration! he shrieked. "I not mean to kill them… But he gave me this body! He knew I not could trust! Every cooling-season he tortures me! Also he put life-organ on my tail!" Dreamer winced as the male lunged at his own tail, sinking his teeth into the fins with force that had to be just shy of drawing blood; it was difficult to tell, but the ends might have been a bit frayed. "He deserved it," the male rumbled, still on his back with his tail in his paws. "But I not meant to kill him… This always happens, I not mean to kill… I sorry Dam…"
Somehow, this was exactly what Dreamer might have expected, and yet also not at all. "We are fighting to change this world," he said levelly. "What you will do now?"
"Join you?" The male snorted, sitting upright and staring at the ground with those tense, wavering eyes. "No. Everyone is dead now. Maybe… I can finally rest…" Without warning, he simply vanished, his camouflage seemingly wiping him from existence in a heartbeat.
It was so sudden that Dreamer startled, wary of an attack – he didn't even have any fire left to look for him that way – then swiftly trotted over to Reaching to keep her close. "Who that was?" she growled distrustfully, similarly glancing around with her ears sharp.
"Very, very old Lightstriker," Dreamer rumbled. Wrrr, if he wanted either of them dead, he wouldn't have saved them in the first place. "I not worried," he chuffed confidently.
"But your wing," Reaching whined, gently nosing at the appendage. "Hrrr… Maybe, after Leaper… hatching again is not much bad…"
"I not need hatch again. Snotlout can help me." Assuming he lived, of course, else this was going to be very awkward and set his plans back a few years. But he had faith in the Viking. "You are hurt also…"
He licked a wound across her head, then purred as she licked one across his chest, and they spent a little while just cleaning each other up. Presumably Wanderer and Fleeting would do the same – it was nice, that they all had each other like this. He would need that support in the years to come.
"I will go back now," Dreamer rumbled, rubbing against her as he stood, and she leaned into him with a purr. "Need see… how many we lost. Talk with anyone still there." There was much that still needed doing, Grimmel was only the start of the problems between dragons and humans, but he had plans; thankfully ones far less bloody and dangerous than what they had been through this night.
Agreement, Reaching chuffed, and walked with him towards the tunnel, the only way back to the nest with his injured wing. Sure, he could probably send her to bring everyone over here, but he needed to see what he had wrought, shoulder the consequences of his actions.
He lost himself to thought again as they walked, mind wandering around pointless worries and curiosities. The tunnel, when they reached it, looked sturdy and had a nice smooth ground and solid, regular supports. It seemed a waste to collapse it again, though he couldn't think of any possible use for it beyond walking back to his reclaimed territory and their old den… the little cave in the mountain that Fleeting had claimed, and they'd later moved into… So many memories…
Seemingly no time at all had passed by the time they reached the other end… which was of course still blocked. "I should shoot it?" Reaching churred uncertainly. "Have one shot left…"
"No," Dreamer said with a huff. Aside from her obvious reluctance to use her last shot, it would be dangerous to do something like that while still in the cave. They could dig their way out. Though as he neared, he discovered not all of it was rock… There were corpses too.
Two of them were Lightstrikers. The one furthest within the tunnel, a female, was curled up with a relaxed, contented expression on her face and the end of a long and deep wound visible at the base of her neck. A body-length ahead of her, a male had fallen where he stood, the result of many, many injuries, the gashes stark across his white hide even in the low light. He was surrounded by Long-Paw corpses, fighting to protect his mate who had probably slipped away without him noticing. Or perhaps he had known.
With a heavy heart, Dreamer climbed the rubble to the top where he barked through the cracks in the hope someone could hear him, then began pawing away the rocks. They were heavy, and it was hard work, but after clearing a few away and barking again someone started helping from the other side, and he backed up as loose stones began tumbling to the ground of their own accord.
A tumble of rocks down the other side opened the way, the light of early dawn shining through the gap, and a male Nightstriker peered inside. "Dreamer!" he barked happily, then set about widening the hole.
"That is enough," Dreamer called up to him, and ascended the rubble again to squeeze through the hole. The male who met him on the other side was easily recognisable, now that all of him was visible. "Thank you," he purred to Crasher, who deferentially dipped his head before leaping to glide the short distance to the ground with a loud and elated roar.
Safely out of the tunnel, along with Reaching, Dreamer looked around at the devastation. Everything was in ruin, even much of the wall surrounding the nest, and some areas were blackened and burned, most of the nest now little but loose rocks. Corpses littered the ground, several Long-Paws and Death-Grippers, and though he couldn't see any Nightstrikers or Lightstrikers he was sure some were around. Something odd caught his attention, and he walked over to it, smashed fragments glittering over the ground in the early light. Had this been one of the things to cast a column of light into the sky? Hrrr, he could see it, a bright fire with a mirror below to direct the light…
Nightstrikers were gathering, those who had stayed. Only about twenty, the rest seemingly either having flown off or been taken by the fight. Rising was there too, with Breaker and a few other Lightstrikers who had come at his request. Hookfang joined them before long, looking very out of place with his colourful hide, but not as much as Snotlout, who looked weary but satisfied. They all sat on the ground around Dreamer, watching him expectantly. "How many of us died?" he asked quietly.
"Four Lightstrikers," Rising growled flatly. "Are we safe now? Is it dead?"
"Their alpha is dead," Dreamer confirmed. There were no happy barks or roars, no cheers, no jumping around or celebrating. Only sighs and rumbles of relief; Snotlout simply remained stoic. "How many Nightstrikers? Do we know?"
"Seven," Snotlout gestured in Dragonese with a blood-flecked hand. "Maybe more. Three more are grounded. Maybe could help one, but not let me near…" He looked bitter at that, of course not knowing that it wasn't the end for them.
"Four are grounded," Dreamer corrected him, spreading his wing and biting back a whine at the fierce, burning pain where it was split. "Not worry about them, but I want your help soon, please." Snotlout winced sympathetically before nodding.
Satisfied, Dreamer chuffed, gently folding his wing again and catching Crasher's eye. "You can find any who died here? I want know their names. Remember them, grieve with their mates." Agreement, Crasher chuffed, and Dreamer purred gratitude. "We not will be hunted by them now," he growled, gesturing at a Death-Gripper corpse with his good wing. "Can fly back to our dens. Enjoy our families. Rest for cold-season. I also need to heal."
He took a deep breath, savouring the prospect of peace, even only a short one; though the burning pain in his wing was making it difficult to focus. "I not want be alpha. Will bite anyone who calls me that. But I know Long-Paws. I want to kill this fighting with them, make this world safe for our fledglings to fly into. But Long-Paws only trying do that also. First, we must disappear." He growled at the sceptical rumbles. "Trust me. We must hide in mountains, forests, caves. Disappear into darkness. I also will need much help, appreciate anyone who want to do that. Maybe will need call us together again for some things. Then, after much time… when all are ready… we can fly freely again."
"What we should do when they kill our forests?" a female growled, wings flared and eyes narrow. "When they take our prey? We not can just hide from them, they are everywhere!"
He was glad to have communicated his plan in encouraging them to fly here in the first place, because going over it in his current condition would be torture. "Fly to me here," he growled back. "Not kill them. I will ensure they never trespass again."
Disbelief, she huffed, but backed down and wearily leaned into a male next to her. She was right to have her doubts. From her perspective, just sitting back and doing nothing wouldn't help; Long-Paws were greedy and stupid, time wasn't going to solve anything. But there was simply too much to try to explain.
"I will tell others," a male rumbled before raising his wings and taking to the sky, something Dreamer was sorely feeling the lack of right now. He had always been able to just lift his wings and fly wherever he wanted, but now he was stuck on the ground. It did make him aware of some distant sense, an escape to freedom once again… but he didn't need that this time, and hopefully wouldn't for many more years.
"This is familiar," Rising crooned as she walked up to Dreamer. "I also said I would bite anyone who calls me alpha."
"Good," Dreamer chuffed, "now know I will be good alpha." She lightly swatted at him with an amused huff. "Why they are listening to me?" he then asked her quietly, keeping an eye on the murmuring around him. "I am so young…" Some of those Nightstrikers looked old, and that before considering how many lives they might have lived before now.
"You have good thinking," she replied easily, to which he huffed scepticism. "Why it would matter if you are young? You maybe lived many lives before now. I lived much longer, but you chased Long-Paws from our territory. Age not matter."
Respecting an idea based on its merit rather than the individual behind it… "Thank you," he purred, and she purred back to him before she and the other Lightstrikers took wing, probably to return to their nest.
"Better ge' you fixed up quick," Snotlout said grimly as he approached. "No' here. Somewhere with fresh water, ideally."
"We have place," Dreamer sighed, not too keen on bringing a Long-Paw into his territory, even Snotlout, but happy to put off that particular agony for a little longer.
"We… not have place to go," a feminine voice said from behind, and Dreamer turned to find Crasher and his mate… Watching, that was her name. "Long-Paws burned our territory, took all our prey…"
"We will find somewhere," Crasher rumbled, shooting her a glare, and she glared right back at him.
Amusement, Dreamer huffed. "Our territory is over this mountain. Stay this side, if you want." He looked around at the ruined village. "No Long-Paws here."
Watching purred smugly at Crasher, then squeaked when he nipped her. Dreamer left them to it, too tired to read into their interactions and not really caring anyway. They could claim this area, for all he cared, as long as they respected his own territory.
"Fly to other side," he huffed to Snotlout," will find you there soon." He had a lot of agony to look forward to, and then he very much needed to rest. In the short term, of course, but also to properly grieve his son, and just lie around for a few months with the knowledge they were no longer being hunted.
He had a long, difficult mission for when the snow melted, or probably once they had shed. Wanderer might need to hatch again, he was clearly blind in one eye now and his face was a grisly mess, but that wouldn't be much of an issue. He would still be there, in a way, as would Fleeting and Reaching who had only taken moderate injuries.
Yes, he would still have time for his family. He wasn't about to run himself to ruin, having learned that lesson fighting Viggo and the dragon hunters. In fact, his whole life had been preparing him for this task. He was confident he could do it.
"I will tell all what happened here when I have more fire," he announced to the crowd. "What we need do." He purred to himself as he spotted a few familiar faces, people he had talked to the previous night. The hard part was over, everything coming together exactly as planned, and just knowing there would be no more fighting for their lives was a huge weight off his back.
But there was still much to do. In the coming warming-season… the real fight would begin.