"And though I came to forget or regret all I have ever done, yet I would remember that once I saw the dragons aloft on the wind at sunset above the western isles; and I would be content." - Ursula K. Le Guin - The Farthest Shore

Apogee

Was-Grounded left his old den before the sun's hatching. It was thankfully much easier to hunt now that he was sky-hatched again, and he quickly found the nearest herd of grazing four-legs. A dead four-leg was clutched in his claws moments later as he flew back to the den to feast.

While he tore into the haunch and filled his belly, he could not help but think back to all the season-cycles ago when his sire brought back catches just the same. It filled his liver with warmth to know that he was now just as good a hunter as his own sire had been.

His meal finally finished, he slowly walked from the cave. His gaze wandered over to the rocks pushed to the side of the path. It was only his being up on those rocks when he became a fledgling that had saved him from the teeth of the four-leg-hunters. Being up on those rocks and his own speed actually.

He traced the same path he thought he ran back then. Across the grassy plain and through the trees and bushes until he came to the cliff's edge. He stopped and rested there, looking down the shore in both directions. Even though he knew that he had to leave this place as well, he began to feel wistful at the thought of leaving again.

The two-leg and kin home-nest-island, my range by the ocean, she-who-sees' range, and now my old hatchling den... maybe I should stay here for the cold-season. No, she said that I needed to leave fast.

He glanced around, for a moment drinking in the beauty and comfort of the place as the wind slowly ruffled his wings. But a shiver went through his limbs as he saw the cave at the base of the mountain. His sleep there had been filled with bad sleep-visions. More than once he had awoken and thought he could see his dam's dead bulk at his side, only to realize it was only rocks and shadows, or thought he heard the howls and barks of the four-leg-wolf-hunters.

'All things outgrow the nest with time.'

He growled as he remembered the true but painful words.

"This is not my place now. There is nothing for me here. Only bad sleep-visions."

His mind made up, he spread his wings and leaped from the cliff. He set his sights on the distant horizon across the inland ocean and never looked back.

There was nothing but flights of water with no islands to perch on to rest. The flight indeed took a good part of the sun before he crossed the inland ocean. It was easily the longest continual flight he had made since regaining the skies and it left him exhausted. But never once did his wings give any indication of failing him. Once across, he alighted on the bare peak of the nearest mountain and observed the surroundings.

There were no two-leg nests in sight, nor were there any other signs of those creatures nearby. It would be safe to rest here. The mountains that ringed the ocean sloped down onto a flat plain largely devoid of trees. There was almost nothing but grasses as far as he could see. It looked like a barren and harsh place, very unlike where he had come from. There had always been enough food and water available even back in captivity among the two-leg captors. There was no promise of either out there.

This is twisted. Nothing can survive out in that in the cold-season. I hope she was right about this.

Caution won out after a moment of thought, and he decided to rest here where he was sure to find water. He flew to a small stream that fed down through the mountains and into the ocean and drank his fill. Then he curled up under a thin-tooth-leaf tree and slept off his exhaustion.

The next several sun-cycles all passed in a similar way. He flew with the wind without seeing anything helpful; no water, no prey, and no trees. He slept on the open ground in the grasses during the sun's flight. Doing most of the flying at night helped him preserve his strength against the warm sun and limit his loss of water. The shapes of the far distant stars at night changed and became very different from what he remembered. There was nothing on land but the swaying grass and a few bushes for the longest time. There were no prey animals of any kind.

Then something changed on the horizon. A smaller range of mountains gradually came into relief across the empty plain. More shrubs and trees started growing and the color went from a general dull brown to having more green.

He dove and landed next to the first small pond, the water of which looked drinkable, and quenched his thirst and his throbbing headache. He was still hungry but that was a less liver-twisting problem than the need for water.

It seemed the best water he had ever tasted.

Once back in the air, he continued on toward the mountains, hoping to see a sign of any prey he could hunt. More bodies of water passed under wing until he took notice of how many there were.

Wait...

He almost fell from the sky in his shock when he recognized the place from a description. With his life-fire burning with excitement, he continued on toward the small mountains. Once at the top, he looked around. The ridge, lush slopes, and numerous small lakes and ponds ran for as far as he could see in either direction.

I found it!

The tallest group of visible peaks beckoned from further up the ridge. A feeling deep in his liver whispered that those peaks were his final destination. For now though his hunger was great enough that he had to hunt, had to fill his belly with something. He glided down to investigate the waters. None of the small ponds seemed to have any fish in them, at least none worth trying to catch. If there were any prey hiding among the trees, he could not see any sign of them. The best he was able to do was a large-feathered-water-bird that was too slow to react. It was not enough to fully satisfy his hunger but it was all he was likely to get for a while.

He was again aloft and aimed himself for the highest peaks. The sun was just beginning to fall below the horizon when he finally arrived near the base of the mountains. They were rocky and looked barren. There was certainly no sign of any other kin. There were approaching rain- and storm-clouds flying across the plains.

Where would I stay?

His gaze was drawn up toward the heights. There was something about them that appealed to his liver; high up was after all where he had made his den back on home-nest-island.

The thought gave him pause as he realized again just how far away he had ranged alone. How many suns it had been since he had flown from everything he knew. But it was his decision to do so and for good reason.

He was very alert for any sign of motion or any smell of another kin. There was no sure way to know how a wild she Night Fury would react to him arriving on her territory. Would she be excited to see him or be afraid and threatened?

I do not know my own kind.

A ledge overlooking the greenest part of the forest looked like a good place to land and rest. However, he froze as soon as he landed and had a chance to look around. There was a slight bend where the ledge curved around a corner of the mountain. Behind that bend was a pile of old chewed bones, bones of a large-horn four-leg. He nudged the largest bones while closely inspecting them.

Something brought the catch up here to feed. These teeth-marks... they could be mine.

It was some confirmation that there was indeed a kin of some type in these mountains.

He considered going back aloft to search higher up the mountain, but the incoming clouds and flashes of sky-light gave him pause. The clouds also seemed to be moving very fast, and being exposed to the worst of the weather up on a mountainside was an excellent way for a kin to ground itself. He glided back down to the ground to look for shelter. A slight gap in the tree-cover looked appealing, and he easily wove his way to the ground where he curled up under a dense tree and vanished under his protective wings.

The rain and winds arrived later and mixed with his own nervous excitement to prevent him from sleeping well. Eventually though the crashing of sky-lights and the roar of the wind passed, leaving only a steady rain behind. More than once during the night he thought he heard the crack of a branch and looked around out of caution. There was never anything there.

The new sun finally came. He shook himself of his lethargy and stretched his limbs and jaws. Even his hunger seemed somehow distant in his excitement.

Now to find her.

He found his way through the trees to a clearing and went aloft, flying back toward the mountains. Several large-horned four-legs dashed wildly under the trees, a reminder that there was prey here to catch even if they were protected under the tree-cover.

I should try to catch one later.

There was another large, grassy clearing at the base of the mountain. But this time instead of flying up the mountainside he paused and noticed something that he had missed on his flight last sun. Several large trees hid mostly from view what looked like the mouth of a cave. So he dove for it and landed outside the entrance.

And he froze almost as soon as he touched down. The path leading inside the cave was well-trodden by something with sharp claws. More than that though he could smell an unmistakable scent.

A Night Fury lived in this den.

He trembled from nose to tailtip, having imagined this meeting for many seasons without knowing what exactly would happen. Then he found his life-fire and roared softly to announce his presence.

Nothing answered.

He slowly and cautiously made his way inside the den. The smell of the other Night Fury grew even stronger. There was something else about it that would have initially puzzled him if he did not already know better; it was slightly different from his own or from Hiccup's distinctive scents.

There was another pile of old prey bones against the side of the cave. A flash of color on the ground also caught his attention. It was a scale, a dark scale with a hint of faded green. There were more shed scales strewn about on the ground as he went deeper inside. A ledge on the left-wing side of the den rose up above the ground and seemed to get a lot of use.

All considered, it was a good den. Warm, dark, hidden, clearly lived in, and with no foul smells of waste or rotten meat.

Even better, there was only one scent of kin in here. The Night Fury that dwelled in this den was alone.

He was completely lost in his thoughts and exploration of the den such that he did not hear a rush of wind and thud outside the cave's mouth. Then there was a sharp bellow of surprise.

He spun around and just barely saw a familiar tail whip out of sight outside the den. He ran, hoping to catch a glimpse of the den's occupant. There was nothing nearby, no movement among the trees and no other place to hide. And then he glanced up and saw it, a Night Fury rapidly flying away up the mountain.

He started after it, beating his wings furiously to catch up. The distance began to close between them with each frenzied stroke of his wings. The other Night Fury darted behind a ledge, clearly attempting to make him lose the trail. He lost sight of it for a moment but guessed correctly and spotted it again trying to stay very close to the trees. They wove near to the mountain's slope, tightly above the trees, and between narrow spires but with him getting closer every moment.

The pursued Night Fury eventually seemed to realize that it could not escape him and banked for the nearest solid ground. It deftly landed and quickly spun around to face him as he cautiously came in for his landing down the ridge from it. It stretched its wings to their full length, bared its teeth, and snarled in defiance. He crouched low to the ground and froze, not daring to move a muscle as he stared in amazement.

She was slightly smaller and noticeably thinner than him. Unlike him, she had very few frills around her head. Her brilliant green eyes were trained on him without blinking. Most distinctive about her appearance though was the faint green shine to her wings and scales. Her sharp and bright white teeth bared at him were impossible to miss as well.

Neither of them moved.

He remained motionless and submissive on his belly while she stayed defensive and wary. The tense moments stretched out as she continued to glare in his direction.

She eventually relaxed slightly and sat back on her haunches while lowering her wings slightly. But she did not let him out of her sight. Somewhat hopeful, he took that as his sign to do something and rose to his feet. She immediately snarled and flashed her bright white teeth again with a growl of warning.

Something told him that he had to let her approach him. He was a strange kin and a possible threat to her on her range.

"Do not have fear," he whispered.

She was taken aback and an expression of complete shock passed across her face before she recovered her outward wariness.

"You can talk?" she rumbled back in clear surprise.

Her voice was harsh, likely from many season-cycles of not being used.

"I think so," he answered.

Her expression, which had held nothing but suspicion and fear just moments ago, seemed to change as she kept staring at him. Her eyes were no longer narrowed but instead were wide with curiosity and amazement.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I am Was-Grounded."

She rumbled in confusion.

"Why that name?"

"Because the two-legs grounded me. They broke my wing," he lifted the formerly-broken wing out for her to see.

She stared intently at it, clearly observing what was visible of the old break. She even took a hesitant first step toward him. Then his life-fire flared as she jumped forward and cautiously walked down the ridge to his side. He held himself very still as she shoved her nose right up against his wing to get a closer look. Eventually, satisfied with what she saw, she turned aside and retreated several steps.

"But you fly now. You escaped the traps of the two-leg-Monsters."

"Yes, I did."

"How did they catch you?"

"That is... a long story."

He did not want to tell her everything about his strange origins, as there was no way to know how she would react to it. Maybe that could be a story for some sun in the future if everything went well between them.

"Do you have a name?" he wondered.

"Green-Wings."

"Green-Wings, I see why you have that name."

She rumbled in approval.

"My dam called me that many season-cycles ago when I got my wing-color. I liked it and kept it. Why are you here, Was-Grounded?"

"I wanted to find another of my own kin. I... I have no life-mate."

He did not need to add anything else to make it clear what he wanted. Her expression remained calm, but there was something in her eyes, a look he could not quite place and that he had never seen before. Then she blinked and it was gone, or maybe it was not actually there at all and he only wanted to see it.

"I did not see any other kin in this range. Are you alone here?" he hesitantly asked.

"Yes, I thought there were no other kin like me now. None except the rotten-dead-liver one, but it is not a true kin!" she added with a growl.

"What?"

"It is a male bigger than you, but it does not talk; its head and liver are filled with rot and waste. We mated once many seasons ago, and it left me."

"My hatchling died without enough food," she added with a whimper.

"Why would he... it do that?" he growled.

"I do not know. It looks for me every new-life-season but I hide from it. It does not deserve me."

"No, it does not. Why is it head- and liver-rotted?"

"Maybe it was alone too many suns. Maybe its dam did not sit it well in the egg. When it found me the first time, I was impressed by how strong it was. But it did not stay with me, and I could not catch enough on my own for my little one."

"It lost its head and liver because it was alone and weak in its life-fire. It does not deserve to be a kin," he growled.

She hummed at his agreement and lay down on her belly, her tail slowly swaying behind her.

"Is this the range where you hatched?" he asked.

"No, I flew for many suns with the sun's flight many season-cycles ago."

"Why did you fly here?" he wondered.

"Two-leg-Monsters were nesting closer to my hatching-den. My sire and dam did not want to leave. I left when I fledged and saw the danger."

"But why here? There is not much easy prey."

She grumbled at that.

"No, but I survive. Some of the waters still have fish in them."

"And there are some four-leg-head-horn-prey in the trees," he added, remembering what he saw before.

She glanced down the ridge toward the forest with a look of longing.

"They are hard to catch when they run into the trees," she muttered.

"I will catch one for us," he confidently announced.

She stared at him for a moment and then turned aside.

"I will believe that when I see it," she said.

Then she swiftly jumped and glided down the mountainside toward her den. He hopped to his feet and watched her as she gracefully flew, the sight of her wings and fluttering fins making him hum in delight.

He too jumped from the mountain but angled himself for the forest, intent on catching one of the prey animals. The last thing she had said almost felt like a challenge or a test.

I am hungry, and she will be impressed when I bring the catch.

But the four-legs eluded him through nightfall. They were too aware of the danger and kept to the trees. Once night fell though he was able to sneak on the ground toward a small herd of large-soft-horn four-legs grazing just outside the forest. Slowly, step by step, he got closer. A single mistake, one snapped twig, would alert the prey. Then he felt that he was close enough and gathered the fire-air in his throat.

The shot of screaming life-fire that left his mouth struck its target, a large male, squarely on the neck. It went down with a bellow of alarm, which was silenced a moment later when he sank his teeth into it and snapped its neck.

He stood over the dead prey and let out a roar of victory. Not only was it the largest prey animal he had taken in many season-cycles, but this was his first substantial hunt since regaining the use of his wings. And it was also likely to impress Green-Wings.

The kill was too heavy to be able to fly with, but he was able to maneuver it onto his back and began the slow walk to her den across the clearing and through the trees. The dark carrion birds cawed as he passed.

None for you now, little flying hunters.

The moon was well into its journey through the sky when he finally arrived at the den, feeling very exhausted and sore. He slowly walked up to the den's mouth and stopped just outside, knowing better than to unbidden enter another kin's occupied den.

"Green-Wings!"

A stirring echoed from inside the den and a pair of glowing eyes appeared in the darkness as she stalked toward him. She yawned widely, clearly having just arisen from resting.

"Was-Grounded, what are you..."

He tossed his shoulders and dropped the large-horn-four-leg on the ground. Her eyes narrowed on it and her tail twitched anxiously. She took a hesitant first step out of the den and glanced back at him as he smugly rumbled to himself and held his shoulders proudly.

"It is for you..." he said as he stepped back.

She pounced and made short work of the prey, quickly slicing off its leathery fur and tearing off large chunks of flesh. His mouth watered at the smell of life-water and the sight of brilliant, fresh meat. His belly rumbled for him to eat, but he did not move a muscle. It was more important for him that she eat her fill.

She eventually lifted her head from the remains and licked her lips clean with a rumble of satisfaction. Then she stepped back and nudged what was left of the carcass with a paw. He gladly attacked and filled his belly with the innards and tougher parts of meat without begrudging her the best parts. Once he too finished, he grabbed the inedible remains and carried them well away from the den. The carrion birds that had followed him immediately descended after he dropped the emptied bones and furs.

"How did you catch it?" she asked when he returned.

"I am very fast and I never miss with my fire."

"I caught some seasons ago, but they are hard to catch. The herd is also small," she grumbled.

"It is. Have you thought of ranging other places?"

"There are other hunting grounds down the mountains, but the fish are only here."

She paused and hesitated before she made up her mind about something.

"I need sleep after all that catch of yours. You may sleep in my den if you want."

Then she spun around and vanished inside her cave-den. He gave himself a happy rumble. Then he slowly entered and noticed her already curled up on the small ledge that overlooked the rest of the den and only had room for one.

I am still a guest here. It is fair for her to be wary.

He lay down on the floor just inside the cave. The fire in his liver, which had long been smoldering and was only rekindled by regaining the skies, now gave him an almost tangible warmth throughout. Everything about meeting her had gone well, and she seemed to already trust him more than he could have hoped for considering how short a time it had been since they met. He glanced out the den's mouth.

The soft wind outside carried more of a chill the deeper into the night it became. It was a foreflier of the coming season-change to the cold-season.

Once he was soundly asleep, she opened her eyes and looked down from her ledge. She stared at him for a long time through the darkness and remembered all his strange details; the burn marks on his neck, the scars from old battles he had won, the place where his wing had been broken, and his odd bobs and sways he made with his head. Then she closed her eyes again while allowing herself a very faint hum.

Just over a half-moon-cycle had passed since Green-Wings accepted him into her den. He had learned many things about her range and about her in that time. She showed him where the best long-tooth-grass was to roll in, the clearest water to drink, and the most-frequented prey-trails. She also shared pawfuls of her past; more about where she was from, how large her home-nest once was, and the stories her sire and dam told her.

He shared more about himself as well but always withheld the full story. The knowledge that he had been in a way raised in a two-leg-nest and that he had been re-hatched was unnecessary for her to know when it could only taint her thoughts of him or make her think that he was somehow an inferior kin. She had been very impressed when he described how he got the wrapping burn marks on his neck. That he had grounded a kin that could spin sky-lights around itself instead of fire certainly sounded impressive in the telling. That he had received a little help from a two-leg or that the fight had been to protect a two-leg nest had not seemed relevant points to mention.

They ranged separately in search of food, sometimes for suns on end. They each always brought back food for the other when a substantial catch was made, which happened more and more infrequently.

Resigned to another night of slight hunger, he returned to the den and lay in wait for her return. She eventually did although with the usual nothing to share.

"No good hunt?" she mumbled.

"No, I think the four-leg-prey have moved on," he growled.

She twitched her tail in agitation and ruffled her wings.

"We must eat again before the cold-season. I know another place we can go to eat even if it is dangerous. We can fly there when the sun hatches."

Then she bounded up to her ledge and fell fast asleep.

Why didn't she say anything about this other hunting ground before?

Regardless of her reasons, he held out some lift that they could have another large meal before settling down for the cold-season-sleep.

She nudged him awake shortly before the sunrise, and they went aloft in moments with her taking the lead. They both kept their eyes open for any sign of the prey-herd but it was nowhere to be found. For a while, he marveled that she was right there flying with him. This was the first time that they had flown any great distance at each other's side. Any observer could easily mistake them for a mated pair.

The temptation to play eventually became too great, and he flew up close behind her tail. Then he carefully nipped at the tip of her tail. She lurched higher with a bellow of surprise, and then glared at him with an accusatory look. He almost felt chilled when she suddenly threw out her wings and pitched down towards him, tagging his tail and letting out a playful roar as his flight was fouled. He recovered as she spun in a loop around him.

He aimed a short burst of flame well in front of her. He watched with great warmth in his liver as she cut through the burning cloud, her visible wing slicing through the fire as she flew out into the open air.

They flew until shortly after the sun's highest flight. Then she dove and flew closer to the treetops. It became quickly clear why. There was a two-leg nest off in the distance against the forest at the base of the mountain range. They both alighted on a ridge that overlooked the nest from far above, and they crouched down to remain hidden.

That is why she did not mention it before. It is a dangerous hunt.

"I did not know there was a two-leg nest," he muttered.

"This is the closest one to my den," she replied.

He looked over everything that he could see, all the different dens within the nest. The many small dens and one large gathering-den in the center. Without the cover of darkness to hide them, any attack would need to be finished very quickly.

"Where is the prey?"

She gave him a confused grumble.

"All through the nest."

"That is strange for two-legs. It should be easy hunting then. Do they have false-tooth-sticks?"

She glared in the direction of the nest.

"I do not think so. Not if we are fast."

"Grab the prey and come back here to eat?" he proposed.

She growled in agreement.

They jumped and dove toward the nest, keeping close to the treetops to remain out of sight as long as possible. Then they both burst into view above the nest and had only moments before cries of alarm would go up. He spotted the place where several four-leg-grass-eater-prey were grazing and adjusted his flight. He dove, crashed into the nearest prey animal, and sank his claws into its side. It brayed and bellowed furiously as he lifted it into the sky. It was a fat and heavy prey animal and shook furiously to try to get out of his clutches. A cry of alarm started to go up from the nest as he flew back for the ridge.

The first thing he did once he landed back at the peak was to snap the bleating prey's neck. Then he looked around for Green-Wings, momentarily concerned about her. But she was clearly visible ascending toward the ridge as well. He breathed a sigh of relief.

A successful hunt.

He turned his attention to the dead prey at his feet and began to carve at its fur. The two-legs had been fattening their prey-animals before the cold-season and this one had a lot of thick, juicy fat under its hide.

Yes!

Green-Wings landed somewhat awkwardly at his side, and he glanced over at her.

He froze the moment he saw the two-leg pinned under her belly. He couldn't make out any of its features other than that it was a female, had black fur on its head, and it was very much still alive.

His liver was thoroughly twisted. It was the normal way of the world that the strong take what they wish and the weak suffer what they must. Two-legs were slow and weak on their own. By the normal way of life, Green-Wings deserved to eat what she caught. Her survival might depend on getting this meal right here and now.

But there was another part of him that whispered against it. The same part of him that had spoken when he chose to not kill a small two-leg male in a clearing many seasons ago. The same part of him that felt a shard of ice in his liver when he almost killed the unknown two-leg male that was only defending its prey animals.

She bent down toward the captured two-leg's head.

"No!" he leaped toward her.

"What?" she held the two-leg down with a snarl.

"Do not hurt it."

"What? This is my catch!"

"Two-legs are not prey..."

She blinked in apparent confusion, thinking that she had heard incorrectly.

"Yes, they are. They are not good eating, but they are prey."

"No, we cannot be like that, Green-Wings."

"Be like what, Was-Grounded?"

She still held the two-leg down underpaw but seemed to have forgotten about it, so confused she was by his words.

"Two-legs think kin are Monsters, are like kin-eaters. We should not be what they fear."

"Why not! They should fear us! Do you have rot in your head also?" she growled.

Her words pierced him to the liver. He distinctly remembered having the very same thought about them in the past, that they should fear him.

"No, I know two-legs well. They... can be Monsters but not all are. Do not hurt it."

She lifted a foreclaw and placed it on the two-leg's back with a toothy snarl.

"I am not leaving unless I eat. I will not die of hunger!"

He grimaced as he thought quickly and saw the only possible acceptable outcome.

"Take... take my catch."

She looked over at the partially skinned and very fat four-leg and considered the offer. With a grumble, she made the easy choice, let go of the two-leg, and bounded over to the much fatter and already dead prey.

He turned his attention to the female two-leg. It looked unharmed though understandably frozen by fear.

This is twisted of me...

He lunged and grabbed the female in his arms as carefully as he could. It screamed anew and struggled against his grasp, but it was far too weak to resist. For the second time, he flew down the mountain toward the nest. This time though the nest emptied very quickly as most of the two-legs vanished into their dens. He hovered over the middle of the nest and carefully touched down after assuring himself that none of the fighters were near enough to threaten him. He released the two-leg onto the dirt and then stepped back from it.

She struggled to her feet and ran but stumbled. She spun around on her behind and glanced at him with fear. He calmly stared back.

"Sorry, little one," he mumbled.

Then he turned away from her and jumped into the sky. A glance back followed a few moments later and he saw several two-legs emerge from their dens to surround the returned female.

He groaned to himself as he again remembered the pain from his empty stomach. It seemed so foolish now. He had given up a perfectly good meal in the four-leg and for what? Peace of mind? A vague sense that he had done right, whatever that meant? It certainly was not the choice that led to the best outcome directly for himself.

He was still grumbling to himself when he arrived back at the ridge. Green-Wings was still busy attending to the four-leg's insides. She ate until she seemed unable to eat any more. All that was left when she stepped back was the head, a bit of flank, and the bones. She glanced at the remains and at him, so he finished what was left even swallowing the head whole. They both chewed on the bones to get at the sweet marrow inside. It was not nearly enough to satisfy him but it would get him through another sun with strength.

She lazily spun around to face him after discarding the emptied bones. She had an oddly confused look.

"Why?"

"Not now..." he grumbled.

"No, I want to hear your reason, now."

He lay down and stared at the two-leg nest.

"Why do you care about those things? What are they to you?" she demanded.

There is no better time to tell her the truth, I guess.

"I know the two-legs very well. I once lived in a two-leg nest," he answered.

"What?" she exclaimed.

"Yes, there is a nest-island far from here where two-legs and kin try to live like kin to each other. I... hatched in that nest. Me and my egg-mate."

"Egg-mate?"

"We hatched from the same egg."

She had a look of complete confusion and amazement.

"I did not know that could happen."

He hummed softly.

"It did for us. He is... close to my liver. The two-legs though are... Some of the two-legs are false, have livers of rot, and are bad to kin. But other two-legs are different and have only lift and warmth in their livers for kin."

"Not possible..."

"Yes, it is. There was one two-leg, a small male. He... gave me fish when I was grounded, after my tail was hurt and I could not fly."

She gasped and her eyes went wide as she came forward and lay down next to him, all traces of her frustration forgotten.

"I thought it was your wing!"

He turned away from the nest and looked at her, his green eyes boring into hers.

"That also. I was grounded two times. That two-leg helped me fly again. He showed me that two-legs are not all Monsters. That their dangerous, clever paws can also fix what is broken. He is... kin to me, wherever he is."

A flare of heat entered his words.

"I cannot... I will not be a Monster to them."

"But we must do that to live. We take their prey-animals and that makes them fear us. How is that different?" she objected.

"I wish that we did not need to take their prey-animals. But they are not their prey-animals. I have eaten two-legs before, but only ones that tried to kill me and when I needed to eat. Not like a hunter-bird grabbing a nestling from a nest."

"Can you understand that? I would not have my hatchlings think of two-legs as prey."

She was silent for a long time. He started to fear that there was an irreconcilable difference; that she would not be able to accept this knowledge about him.

"That two-leg, why did it help you?" she wondered.

"He had sadness... for what happened to me. My pain hurt him."

Her eyes sparkled with confusion.

"How can a not-kin care for a kin? Why would it?"

"Because... we can have the same life-breath. Is that so strange? If a kin like that bad male can be bad to you, why is it hard to think that a two-leg could be good to a kin?"

"I have never seen it," she answered.

"I have. I have lived it. That two-leg I told you about had fire in his liver that you would not believe if you had not seen it. Do you know what he did?"

"What?"

"He found me after I... had been grounded and when I was trapped. He could have spilled my life-water and cut out my life-organ and liver, but he did not. He freed me."

"But that was supposed to be a nest of kin and good-two-legs, as you say..." she objected.

"It was not always that way. I thought I was stronger than two-legs, but then that one grounded something that I did not think could be grounded."

"What did he ground?"

"He grounded the way that kin and two-legs were to the other. Fighting, taking, eating, and grounding. He was playing, giving, sharing, and flying. Is that not strong of him, to growl at and shake the neck of what always was because he wanted something different to be?"

"Maybe," she reluctantly grumbled.

"Sometimes the old, normal way should change, must change, for something good to hatch."

He lay his head down and stared up along the mountains before flying the question that he had been chilled by.

"Should we... go back to your den?"

"Yes."

She jumped from the ledge without hesitation. He watched her go and sighed with exhaustion and relief that their kinship had not broken. But neither did she clearly affirm or appear to agree with what he said.

Maybe the ideas are like a hatchling in the egg for her. They take time to grow before they hatch in her thinking.

Neither of them felt the urge to play at all on the flight back. However, their arrival was delayed by something very good mid-flight. Shortly before dusk, they spied a small herd of grazing prey in a nearby valley. He went straight for them and, true to his word, scored another perfect kill, this time of a smaller four-leg. He filled his belly until he could not eat another mouthful and then let her have what she could of the rest. With these two kills, they were both set to endure the long dark-sleep.

As soon as they were back aloft in the cool evening air, they noticed something worrisome off in the distance. They stared at the flowing clouds, clearly recognizing what the shape and dark color meant was flying for them. The cold-season was coming soon to swallow the world's warmth.

They both picked up the pace of flight, fighting the breeze part of the way and their own substantially increased weights the whole way. They eventually arrived back at her den just as the first dusting of frozen-water began to fall. The temperature also noticeably fell with the arrival of a strong whistling wind.

He left his preferred place close to the den's mouth and retreated deeper to avoid the cold drafts. He found a place against the rear wall, wrapped himself in his wings, and started to abandon himself to sleep.

"Was-Grounded?"

He opened his eyes and peered out. Green-Wings was standing right before him instead of over on her ledge.

"This season is always very cold," she whispered.

For a moment, he did not understand. Then he did and felt a surge of life-warmth in his liver as he lifted a wing for her. She snuggled in against his side and closed her eyes as he draped the wing over her back. She let her tail droop over his. He did not hide his thrum of delight, nor did she hers.

Author's Note - At this point I would recommend that you check out chapter 1 of 'To Fly The Winds Of Life'. Chapter 1 is a bit more of Green-Wings's backstory and these two meeting but from her perspective.