"Love begins by taking care of the closest ones – the ones at home." - Mother Theresa

A Song Of Life

The leaves began to fall, and the forest's green began to fade into brown. The skies and clouds had changed and flew in advance of the approaching cold-season with their new shapes and colors. Life was slowing down.

He, on the other paw, was not.

There was a task that he was busily working at. It was work that he was glad to do, even if it was difficult to accomplish and had the constant threat of letting him be distracted for a considerable amount of the sun-cycle.

He held his breath as he crept closer to the dangerous place. Shuffling slightly closer until he could reach out with a paw and slice the grass off at the ground. But it felt so good. A pawful of it fell to the dirt. It was sure to smell very good too. Humming to himself with care, he picked up the long-tooth-grass in his claws and dashed away from the clearing.

He survived and went aloft with the dangerous prize in paw.

She was still exactly where he had left her at the back of the den and sitting on the pile of sand. It had taken a full sun of them both flying down to the shore and carrying sand back by the mouthful until she had thought there was enough. And then he had to do the hardest part, bringing all the long-tooth-grass. That was an essential point, she had told him.

There was some of that in my old hatching den. I wonder if it is for the coming egg or for her? Not that I truly care...

He approached very slowly this time. Something was different.

She was singing.

He could not remember ever hearing a sound quite like it, a slow and soft but powerful hum. Something about it warmed his liver and sent all his concerns and fears scattering on the winds.

She lifted her head at his approach.

"You were gone long..." she mumbled.

He held out the latest pawful of still-powerful long-tooth-grass.

"It is dangerous," he explained himself.

"Not as dangerous as making your mate sit her egg without enough long-tooth-grass..." she growled.

"Yes, that would be more..."

He froze and looked up at her in amazement, only now noticing the mirth sparkling in her eyes.

"Are you... is it here?"

She got to her feet and stepped back as he darted closer. A black dome was half-buried in the sand and partly covered in the old long-tooth-grass he had already brought up. It still had the shine of laying-water despite having been licked clean.

He bent down and inspected it up close as his liver flared.

"It is good?" he warily hissed.

"We made it. Yes, it is heavy with life."

He hummed with pride and nuzzled her neck. Overcome with daring, he flew a question.

"Do you truly need the long-tooth-grass?"

He dodged back from her to avoid her hopefully playful snap at his neck.

"You give me that grass, or I eat your liver," she hissed.

"I want my liver to stay in me..." he muttered as he hastily handed over the all-important grass.

She carefully wrapped the visible part of the egg's shell in the grass and then protectively lay her soft belly on it. Then her singing started again, and he felt a faint tingling that he could not place.

He lay down before her, closed his eyes, and listened to the enthralling and comforting song. Only this time he recognized why it felt familiar. His own dam had sung something like this song to his younger nestmate's egg and presumably to his own egg. There were no words in the song, and yet it formed vivid feelings in his thoughts.

The warmth of her great body.

The protection of the safe den.

Cycles of sleep in the dark.

Growth to shatter the world.

A burning mind-fire to spark.

She almost never moved from the rear of the den. She only ever got up to relieve herself, to eat what he caught and brought to her, or to quench her thirst. All the rest of her time was spent obsessing over a singular task.

She now nestled the precious black egg against her chest. It had been there under her care and protection for a full moon-cycle during which it needed constant attention. Every sun-cycle it had to be turned and kept warm in freshly-flamed sand or against her body. There was also rarely a quiet moment in the den. If she was not talking to the egg about the world outside, hunting, the winds, the seas, and her own and her mate's life-stories, then she was humming general comfort to it and announcing her protective presence and care. They were all essential to teach the growing hatchling even now before it broke the shell. The hatchling needed to know the sounds of its own sire and dam.

Even though they were mates and trusted each other in all things, she preferred to keep all egg-tending duties almost exclusively to herself as was her privilege. Still, on those rare occasions when she did need to leave the den, he had a few moments alone with the egg.

He again lay down with it, wrapped his tail around it, and breathed on it, his eyes drinking in its every detail. Every dark vein and every bump was committed to memory. He bent down and put his ear to the egg's shell. He purred with awe and pride as he listened to the very faint sounds of life within.

Waiting was one of the worst parts, if not the worst. His own responsibilities were very simple, mainly to just bring food for her and protect the den from threats, of which there were none.

He did start exploring their range more regularly in case there were to be any kind of threat, whether from wild kin, four-leg-hunters, or ranging two-legs. Once outside the den and somewhat removed from the warmth of the egg and her cherished presence, he started noticing something again in his liver. Something that had crawled its way inside his life-fire and had been slowly growing, but had been hidden beneath wandering, finding, mating passion, desperation of hunting and survival, their long and chilling journey over the grassy plains, and now the attention given to their egg.

He was not at peace.

He had everything that he could have wanted. His body was strong and healthy, he never slept hungry, he had a good range to hunt on with no threats, he had a worthy mate who seemed to want to stay with him, and he was a sire.

What is wrong with me?

This should all be enough for him to feel content. However, he wanted more without knowing what that more was that he wanted. That knowledge was a flighty prey that he could not put his claws on without it shifting and escaping.

Maybe this will change when the egg hatches...

His flight took him over the cliffs, and his attention was grasped by the bones of the two-leg water-walker. Something about it beckoned anew. He dove and cautiously alighted on the rocks next to it. It looked like one of the water-walkers that the two-legs on home-nest-island used to catch and hold fish, only it was bigger. The front half of the walker was in one piece, whereas the back half had long ago rotted away to the waves.

This is twisted of me.

He jumped from the rock to the wooden ground on the pitched water-walker. It creaked loudly with the suddenly added weight. The water-walker had a large depression in its middle right in front of where the broken central wing had once been. The moment that he got up to the depression and glanced into it though, he froze in alarm.

There were old bones of a fire-scale-kin piled up against the depression's wall. Chains extended from the wall to several of the neck bones. A faint growl rose in his throat.

It was carrying the kin as a thrall. As they did with me.

He briefly thought about the kin, trapped and unable to free itself, condemned to death because the two-legs grounded their water-walker against the rocks. Having seen enough, he turned away from the bones and looked around for anything else of interest. There was nothing else left among the water-walker's bones.

He leaped aloft and felt relieved to leave that thing behind. Too many bad memories could be given lift by dwelling on it longer.

Kin-thrall water-walkers swim these waters. Or did. I will need to watch for them.

He strolled inside after another successful hunt, bringing with him a very large chunk of four-leg-thigh. She looked up with excitement as soon as he entered.

"My mate," she beckoned.

He eagerly crossed the short distance to her.

"What?" he whispered.

She bent her head down to the black egg between her forearms and hummed to it. Several moments passed and then the egg noticeably shifted. His eyes went very round and wide as he stared at it.

"It moved!" he exclaimed while his tail thrashed with excitement.

"Yes, it has strong life-fire," she happily thrummed.

He leaned over and nuzzled her muzzle.

"How many suns until it hatches?"

She grumbled as she thought over how long she had sat with it.

"Not many."

He again looked down at the egg without it moving further.

"You have been with the egg for many sun-cycles. You should rest, go to the hot-bubble-water, or stretch your wings. I will sit with it."

She nervously shuffled until she reluctantly rose and gave him a brief nuzzle and nip on an ear.

"It has been long... I will be back soon."

Then she dashed outside, leaving him alone in the den's silence. Within moments, he had the egg snugly wrapped up in his tail, and he lowered his chin to the egg's top sphere.

"I wonder what you will be. I have never done this before. Been a sire... been a..."

What was it called?

"...a father. I might fly the wrong winds much with you, but I will not ground you or smother your life-fire. I will help your life-fire burn hot, my little one."

He hummed in thought.

"Two-legs, you will need to know about them. They are the strangest creatures. They make things of the world to help them. They make nest-dens from the trees. They do not have much fur and take fur from other creatures. So smart, smarter than kin. They must be because they are small and weak in body."

He thought of two-leg Hiccup and Hiccup's sire and their very different ways of behaving to kin. Hiccup had nothing but warmth and lift in his liver for kin, so much so that he had once tried to approach a dangerous kin without a care for his own safety. Even Astrid had surprised him with how warm she was to the storm-flier spine-tail and how she worked to help kin live safely.

Hiccup's sire though had always seemed to have ice in his liver for kin, especially in anything concerning himself. And that was without considering the apparent betrayal.

"They are hard to trust, to know if you could call them your kin. But they can be. I do not know why their Alpha turned against me. Did he make me a thrall for more shiny rocks? Did I wrong him first? Did he have only ice in his liver because a kin took his mate?"

Grumble.

"It is safest to stay away from two-legs and be with your own kin. There is so much more you need to know about two-legs, and I will teach you, my little one."

The egg wiggled again as soon as he stopped speaking. He imagined that the hatchling within had been listening to him the whole time, even if it could not yet understand anything. That was perfectly fine for now. Listen was all it needed to do. Listen and drink in all that he and she had to say.

Another of the wiggling red-belly-fish vanished down his maw. He took another deep breath and vanished underwater to continue the hunt. The waters were teeming with these fat fish well below the surface in the deeps of the bay. He drifted closer to the massive fish-herd and struck from below with a thrust of his wings and a kick.

He crashed through the water's surface and fell on his belly with a large, thrashing fish between his teeth.

She will want one too.

Fish in mouth, he swam back to shore, shook himself dry, and flew home. The first thing he noticed was that Green-Wings had gotten up from where she always lay and was staring intently at the egg, now removed from being half-buried in sand. It became clear why when he came closer. She had removed it because of the large crack that now streaked down the visibly wobbling egg.

His limbs shook as he approached. Words escaped him, and there was nothing to do but attentively wait. Hatching could take a significant part of the sun-cycle or it could be over very quickly.

"Here," he mumbled past the fish between his teeth.

She grabbed the fish and quickly ate most of it but saved several large chunks of flesh. She nuzzled up against his side and turned her attention to the egg as it shook and the cracks widened. Both of them watched the hatchling's progress while humming strength and presence well into the sun's flight.

A chunk of shell above the middle of the egg eventually broke away as a tiny black nose appeared in the gap. The shape in the slimy mess within cried once and caught its breath in the fresh air. It paused and seemed to gather its strength. Then it continued working, gradually chipping away at the gap and stretching the cracks around the egg's length until the final break happened.

The two halves of the eggshell split apart. The hatchling rolled itself out of the shell and flopped onto the sand in a mess of egg-water and tiny flailing limbs and wings. Its strength being completely spent, it cried out for attention.

She moved first, lowering her head to it with a deep rumble and licking it of the remaining egg-water. He stared eagerly as the hatchling initially protested being cleaned but then was comforted by the licking. Then he slowly approached, feeling very unsure what to expect as he was about to meet so small and precious a thing.

The hatchling noticed him and recognized his distinctive rumble with a happy chirp of its own. It had his own green eyes. It remained still as he lowered his nose and breathed in its scent for the first time. Its tiny head-frills ruffled at his breath.

A strong and healthy male.

"Little one..." he whispered.

She scooped up the remaining fish and dropped the fish a short length from their hatchling. The hatchling's sleepy eyes went wide when he smelled the fish. He tried to pounce but had almost no control of his legs and stumbled wildly while voicing his hunger. They both hummed with amusement that he managed to roll over onto his back. Neither of them moved to help though. This was their hatchling's first small struggle to overcome on his own outside the egg.

The hatchling managed to find his footing, dragged himself to the fish, and began to feed with haste. Once his little belly was fat with fish, the hatchling started to fall asleep. She bent back down, carefully picked up the hatchling in her gums, and gently placed him against her side under a wing. He yawned once and fell fast asleep with his belly bulging with fish.

She turned away from the hatchling and nuzzled her mate's neck with a deep hum of contentment.

"He has your eyes," she whispered.

"He should since he is mine, I think," he teased.

She raised an eye-ridge, a devious look in her mirthful eyes.

"I was going to tell you..."

He whipped her tail with his own while she rumbled in amusement.

Life became more busy within a half-moon-cycle. The hatchling quickly found his feet and started exploring by nosing around the den. He liked attacking tails and trying to shake the tails to death like they were prey. He did not yet know to control where he relieved himself, which would take some time for him to learn by example. The single most frustrating thing he did though was that he frequently threatened to run outside the den to explore before dawn.

Was-Grounded thought that was a twisted behavior for a hatchling until she reminded him that he was himself strange in his own way. He had no answer for that.

They had come to an agreement that they would rotate the nightly hatchling-watching duties and this one was his turn.

Something nipped at his nose.

Something gnawed at his ear.

Something chirped in his face.

He opened his heavy eyes with a sigh and a grumble. The hatchling yawned widely and purred at him.

"Go to sleep, little one."

The hatchling clearly did not want that because he mewled, turned away, and dashed toward the den's mouth.

"The sky-winds hate me..." he groaned.

He got to his feet and followed after his offspring. He did not need to go far though as the little one had stopped just outside the den's mouth to stare up at the sky. Just as had already happened for several suns in a row.

"What are you looking at?"

The hatchling was intently staring at the sunrise, apparently surprised by the change of colors in the sky.

"You like the new-sun hatching. The dawn."

He grumbled at the hatchling to come back inside the den, but the little one refused to move. Instead, the hatchling stretched his little neck toward the sky and trilled happily. The hatchling sang for a moment until he bent down, picked him up by the scruff of his neck, and forcibly carried him back into the den.

Green-Wings quickly woke up when she heard the protesting cries. The hatchling would not stop protesting the treatment though until she reached out with a paw and stroked under his chin. The little one immediately tired and slunk against her side to return to sleep.

"Again?" she grumbled.

"Yes, he was singing to the dawn again."

"He does that every new-sun."

He thought about how much life-fire their hatchling clearly had; that he was so happy that he wanted to sing to welcome the new suns' hatchings. It gave him a clever idea.

"Dawn-Singer, that is his name."

She thought over the name and hummed in agreement.

"If only he could be Sleeps-Much..." she grumbled.

He went aloft to look for the prey as the sun fell low in the sky. The cold-season was drawing nearer, certainly under a moon-cycle away, and they needed to know where they could get another large meal, not only for themselves but also for Dawn-Singer. A growing hatchling needed great amounts of food to grow fast like he himself had back on home-nest-island. The little one had already added many talon-lengths to his length since hatching just under a half-moon-cycle ago.

His gaze was cast to the dark forest in search of the prey when a flash of movement and spark of light out at sea caught his attention. It was a two-leg water-walker.

He dove for land to avoid being seen and crouched on the ridge while following its movement. It was not the first living water-walker that he had seen anywhere near his range, but it was the one that came nearest to the range.

What is it doing here?

The sun had fallen below the horizon long ago, and it was dark enough for him to remain hidden in the sky. As silent as a shadow, he flew forth from the ledge and approached the water-walker while staying high enough away to remain unseen. There were several two-legs busily working the arms and wings of the walker. It did not look like it had any thrall-kin, nor did it look like it intended to stop at his range.

Once he was finally assured that the water-walker was only swimming by and did not plan on stopping, he banked away and calmly flew back to shore. He circled in the cloudy darkness for a while with his eyes to the horizons in case there were any other water-walkers following the first one. Eventually, he was convinced that there were none and landed on the cliff's edge. It was again reassuring that the cliffs were so severe in most places along the coast and that there were few easy paths for two-legs to find a way up to his range.

The clouds had thinned enough that the moon began to break through, shining its light on the night. A soft, chill wind ruffled his wings, a further reminder of the coming season-change.

Everything that had happened to him in the last season-cycles washed over him. Being the two-legs' thrall, escaping from the two-legs, struggles to hunt and lessons learned, finding this good range, meeting she-who-sees, finding Green-Wings, successful and unsuccessful hunts, their encounter with the two-leg nest, the battle with other male, her acceptance of him as her mate, shared hunger and suffering, her delight at seeing his safe and hidden hunting grounds, and everything about Dawn-Singer. Just the thought of his hatchling warmed his liver and made him hum in pleasure. Even the more frustrating parts of having a hatchling, having to clean up his messes, being awoken by a pinch on the ear, or being grumble-growled at out of hunger, were normal parts of life that he and Green-Wings were glad to endure. These were new skies for them both to fly in together.

The challenge of protecting and of providing for them both seemed a small one with his many seasons of hunting to draw on. More than that though there were no other predators in this range. The three of them were hidden away in a corner of the world in relative safety. He also knew far more about the two-legs than she did, which could prove life-saving under a future sun. There was only that occasional concern brought on by the water-walkers, though they never stopped at his range.

Everything was good except for that very faint pang in his liver. That wistfulness for what once was and the wish that some good parts of life had not been changed or lost. Only now he realized deep in his liver that it was a normal part of change and growing. Just like when fledging for the first time, a part of who he was had to stay behind in the nest. Who he was had to die, had to not be, for him to be who and what he was now.

Hiccup's sire, the thrall-making two-legs, my broken wing... I would never have found her if those had not happened.

And yet, there was still something that remained the same in him all throughout. He still remembered the good from the past. Sharing the skies with someone he had once shared his own back and wings with. Hiccup explaining to him the liver-warming idea of brothers. His own telling Hiccup of his hope to find a mate eventually. There was still an emptiness in his own liver at the thought of never seeing his egg-mate brother again.

Maybe we can fly back there in the future. He would like to know that I am alive and free.

He lay on the ledge and stared up at the sky, savoring a brief moment of peace and escape from the den and overactive Dawn-Singer when something caught his eye. Specifically, an absence of something. A moving black void in the sky where the stars did not shine.