Author's Note: This is a long one, for a reason that will be apparent by the end. Enjoy.
Sound. That was the first thing it became aware of. A steady thumping, regular and comforting.
Later, the sounds changed. The thumping was there, always there, but there were other, different noises. Soothing ones, exciting ones. Over time, it began to understand, if not the meaning, the intent. Comfort. Safety. Anticipation. Encouragement.
Some time later, impatience manifested itself. A primal urge to stretch, to break free. It pushed with unused limbs, straining against the confines of the world. The world didn't budge. It pushed harder, as hard as it was capable of. A new, welcome sound occurred. A crack that signified progress.
By degrees, those cracks were repeated, as it pushed more. Eventually, the world gave in, and it slid out the side, into the unknown.
Instinct took over, and it found itself gasping for air, something never done before. Cold hit it for the first time, and for the first time, it made a noise of its own, voicing its discomfort.
A warm and comforting thing caressed it, removing the liquid covering its face. At the same time, those noises of safety and encouragement resumed, emanating from somewhere nearby. It used new muscles to open its eyes.
Sight was a shock, and it couldn't make sense of the bright and dull blurs confronting it. A wail of fright escaped it.
The soothing one moved closer, enveloping it in the dark. The warm, comforting black, unbroken by the new colors.
By degrees it fell asleep, comforted.
O-O-O-O-O
Another new sensation woke it. A pain inside it. The comforting one understood, apparently. Something that smelled- a new sensation it might have reveled in had the circumstances been different- good was put near to it. Driven by instinct, it greedily swallowed the slimy chunks of pain-soothing stuff. Sleep was not long in returning, now that the pain was gone. The comforting one readily reembraced it.
O-O-O-O-O
Life was a string of new experiences. Its eyes cleared slowly, allowing the recognition of more than just shapes and colors. It realized that there were two comforting ones, not just one. Smells became familiar. Home. Food. The comforting ones.
It by degrees gained control of its limbs. The four stubby legs, the two flimsy wings. The thin and long tail, with two flappable fins on the ends.
The comforting ones had voiced noises of amusement when it had discovered that last fact and flapped the tailfins in excitement.
And of course, it's mouth. These movable teeth. It quickly learned when it was better to have the teeth out, like for grabbing those chunks of food. It also learned when it was better not to have them out, such as when playing with a comforting one's massive paws or tail.
They were like it in shape, just huge. It was pretty sure they could carry it around in their mouths if they wanted. It felt no fear at that idea. Trust was fully given, and it couldn't fathom the thought of them hurting it.
O-O-O-O-O
By degrees, it began to pick up what the comforting ones meant with their noises. In this way, it learned to think of itself as 'he'. He also learned to refer to the comforting ones with different sounds, depending on which it was. The one colored as the walls of their home, a dark grey, he was taught to call Dam. The one colored as the distant world outside their home, a pale green, he called Sire.
Those were not the ways they called each other though. Through listening, he picked up that Sire called Dam one-with-sharp-claws-like-sharp-plants, and Dam called Sire green-one-like-the-plants-of-healing. He wasn't sure what those names meant, so he was content to say Sire and Dam.
O-O-O-O-O
He grew, both mentally and physically. It was a great day when Sire took him outside of their home, the cave, for the first time. He was blinded by the bright light in the sky, but the soft green stuff Sire called grass entranced him. Trips outside became the highlight of his day.
Sadly, at least for him, they could not spend all day every day outside. Dam spent much time speaking to him, teaching him the nuances of their language by example. He learned to differentiate between a growl that meant 'I am angry with you' and a subtly lighter growl that instead meant 'I am not actually angry, but that was a stupid thing to do'.
That last one he heard quite a lot. When he accidentally bit down on his own tail, for instance. Or when he tried to climb on Sire's back and fell face first onto the ground. However, he very much preferred the reassuring purrs that signified comfort and consolation afterward.
O-O-O-O-O
Time passed. The days blurred in passing. It grew colder and warmer repeatedly, and he grew with the changing of temperature. Sire and Dam no longer tore his food apart, trusting him to eat without assistance. He grew, wings expanding to match the rest of his body.
It was in this time that he realized they were alone. He at one point brought it up, as Dam watched him run through the grass outside the cave. "Where are others?" An inquisitive croon, followed by a tilt of the head. As he grew, he heard the individual sounds less and less, and instead understood their meaning.
"Not here." Dam purred, sticking a paw out to stop him from running around for a moment. "You are lonely?"
He wasn't sure what that last word meant, exactly, but the idea was clear. "No. Just wondering."
Dam sighed. "We are few. The embers of our kind."
Sire dropped to land beside her, nuzzling her neck. "Embers can restart a fire. We are not gone yet."
He looked up at Sire curiously.
Sire laughed, a coughing sound. "You are an ember. One-who-restarts-the-fire. That is your name."
He blinked. "I am?"
Dam purred, pawing at his small wings. "Yes. The perfect color for that name too. Orange, with yellow eyes. An ember."
He shook his head. "Which am I? An ember, or one-who-restarts-the-fire?"
"Both." Sire nodded at himself. "Your Dam calls me green-one-like-the-plants-of-healing. It means Herb. And I call her one-with-sharp-claws-like-sharp-plants. That means Thorn. Either is correct."
"So I am Ember." He liked that.
O-O-O-O-O
Ember was forced to revise his opinion on whether or not he was lonely eventually. He confided in Sire this time, several seasons later. "I wish to meet others. It is boring here."
Sire made a big deal of looking him over. "You have grown well. Almost half my size already, in four Winters."
Half Sire's size? He was sure he was bigger than that. "I am big."
"Big enough, I think. Follow." Sire turned and left the cave.
Ember trotted after him, forced to maintain a pace near running to keep up with Sire's brisk walk. Maybe he wasn't that big after all. Sire took him to the top of their hill, overlooking the boundless trees he was forbidden from going into. He turned back, looking at their range. A small valley, a few trees standing amidst tall grass, ringed protectively by stone bluffs, the endless water Sire called the sea around the stone.
Sire put a paw under his chin, pulling him to look at the forbidden trees. "Out there, there are many things."
Ember nodded. There were not many things here, so where else could they be?
"Some good, some bad." Sire nodded at a faint speck approaching from the distance. "Dam is good. She hunts something other than sea-swimmers for our next meal."
That was good news. Ember liked sea-swimmers, but variety was a rare treat. "That is Dam?"
"Yes." Sire nodded at the forest again. "Pay attention. There are good things there. But also bad things. Many bad things." His tone was dark, a faint growl resonating from his chest. "You cannot have one without the other. Telling which is which may also be difficult. This is why you were not allowed to leave the valley."
"But..." Ember looked up at Sire. "Now?"
"Not quite," Sire whined, nuzzling Ember. "When you are ready, we will not hold you here. Then you can go and explore, find others. This is our home. We will stay. That journey you make on your own. It is the way of life."
Ember whined in return, confidence gone at the idea of being without Sire and Dam by his side. "I do not want to leave."
"And you do not have to right now." Sire purred, his head on Ember's back. "We will not force you to leave either, and you are far from ready. When the time is right, you will know."
O-O-O-O-O
After that, Sire and Dam began to teach him many things. From Dam, he learned what plants were dangerous, which fish were poisonous. He also learned which were good to eat, and what plants had soothing properties on injuries, like those his Sire was named after.
Sire took him into the woods. Their first trip was solely so that Ember could get over the novelty of this new environment. He spent a whole day playing among the trees, jumping and leaping off of those useful and sturdy supports so close together. His claws were strong, his footing sure. The entire time, Sire watched him carefully, one eye on him and one on the surroundings. Ember got the impression that this place, though fun and different, was not totally safe. It drained a tiny bit of the enthusiasm out of him.
The next time they ventured into the forest, Sire did not let him play long. After a few minutes, Ember was told to pay attention, and Sire took him deeper into the woods.
Sire leaned over and lightly pawed at an indent in a patch of mud. "Ember. Smell this."
Ember obliged him and sneezed at the new scent. "What is it?"
"Food." Sire nodded at the indent. "When hunting, always be looking for things like this. The marks of food passing." He growled. "Not all marks signify food. If it smells dangerous, do not follow it. It might see you as food instead."
Ember quivered. "Me, food?"
Sire nodded. "Right now, you are vulnerable. Small, inexperienced. Later, few things will see you as prey." He shook his head. "Except for No-scaled-not-prey. They are always dangerous, even though they smell like food. Never hunt them."
"What are No-scaled-not-prey?" Ember didn't like the sound of them. "Why do they smell like food if they are not?"
"They are... like us." Sire sounded uncomfortable. "Food does not think beyond the moment. No-scaled-not-prey do, like we do. They plan, think, speak to each other. So they look like food, smell like food. But it is wrong to hunt them. It would be like another one of us hunting you. Bad."
Ember nodded. He would not hunt those. "Are there any around?"
Sire rumbled comfortingly. "No. That is why we live here. No No-scaled-not-prey, and no rival kin to compete with, for a long way. We are alone, and that is safe."
O-O-O-O-O
They tracked the food for a while, but Sire eventually stopped, motioning for Ember to be silent. "Watch carefully. I will show you how this is done. The food always tries to run." Sire leaped out into the open, pouncing on a strange fleshy shape Ember recognized from when Sire or Dam brought back different food on occasion. He moved into the open to see Sire pinning it to the ground.
Sire made eye contact. "Remember this, and teach your offspring. Food is not like us. But we are not monsters. A quick kill is best." He placed a claw on the food's midsection. "Here, if you must, though it is not quick." The claw moved to the legs. "These only if it is getting away." He moved his claw to its throat. "Here is best. Or the head in general, if you can. Everywhere else is needless suffering." With a swift jerk, he cut its throat, and its thrashing stilled. "Do you understand?"
Ember nodded solemnly. It made sense. "Can I try?"
O-O-O-O-O
The seasons continued to pass. Ember developed into a proficient hunter, though he didn't so much enjoy the kill as he did the chase. It all ended the same way, but the chase was different every time. He enjoyed the rare food that truly evaded him almost as much as a successful hunt. In his mind, it deserved to live if it could outwit him.
Dam had taught him to fly. Her lessons had been simple and effective. She had taken him high above the ocean, and dropped him. Gliding was knowledge acquired on the way down. From there, it had simply been practice. So much practice.
He stood by the sea, staring at his rippling reflection. An orange dragon with dark yellow eyes stared back at him. He looked like his Sire in size and build, bulkier than his Dam.
Dam walked up to stand by him. "What do you see?"
Ember replied without thought. "I look like Sire."
"You do." Dam placed a wing over him. "Do you feel anything?"
Ember thought about her odd question. "Not really. What do you mean?"
Dam sighed. "You will know when it comes. I will miss you. My firstborn and maybe only hatchling, growing up."
He squirmed at that. "I am not a hatchling anymore."
"No, you are not." Dam whined softly. "Promise me, please. When you do leave, if you ever find a mate and have hatchlings of your own, bring them back to meet us. I would like to see you live up to your name."
"A mate?!" Ember reared back. "Who said anything about that?"
"I did." Dam laughed at his affronted expression. "Forget it for now. Feel free to stay my hatchling for as long as you want."
Ember grumbled wordlessly. But what Dam had said stuck in his mind. He didn't want to leave. But someday, maybe.
O-O-O-O-O
That day arrived eventually. A need to explore, to find others of his kind drove Ember to leave. He had confided in Sire that he planned on going soon.
Sire laughed. "Not quite yet."
"Why not?"
"You do not know anything about how we choose mates. How did you expect it would go?" There was a light tone to his voice, almost amused.
Ember wilted. "I did not really think about it."
"As I thought." Sire purred, nudging his head back up. "I can tell you. One last lesson."
"Please?"
"Of course." Sire sat down, motioning for Ember to do the same. "We do it like this. First, obviously, you need to find a female of our kind." His eyes narrowed. "Our kind, exactly. Not another kin who looks similar, but not quite. No eggs can be made from such a pairing."
Ember nodded. That made sense. "One who looks like us."
"Yes. Then, you get to know her." Sire grimaced, his teeth briefly showing. "This is not how most do it, but I personally find that step necessary. If she likes you enough, and you like her, she will stay with you. If she is with you when Spring comes, and is still with you when Summer arrives, then you are mates. Spring is when all dragons feel the urge. You might have to fight other dragons for her favor if she is flighty or uncertain."
Ember didn't like that possibility. "Why would we fight?"
"Ideally, you find a mate who does not want you to fight for her. One who has no doubts. That is why I say get to know her first. But if she cannot choose, the two fight to determine who would be better able to protect her and the eggs. That way, the species as a whole is stronger."
"Understood."
"You know all you need to know, then." Sire stood. "I wish you safe travels. And you had better come back to visit every once in a while."
O-O-O-O-O
Ember said goodbye to Sire and Dam, and the next morning he set off, flying over the boundless tracts of forest, away from the valley he had called home. Life became more difficult, relying solely on his own efforts to survive. As the seasons passed, so did the endless miles, and so did his inexperience. He grew more capable, faster, smarter even, as the endless journey sharpened his reflexes and his wits. The feeling of endless loneliness drove him forward, always searching for another of his kind.
He saw many dragons as he journeyed, and many things that simply did not exist in his home range. Dragons unlike him in almost every way, dragons with two wings, four, two legs, no legs even. Every color imaginable, on every shape imaginable. He even at one point saw what he thought was others of his kind. But they were not. They were different, if only slightly. Smooth scales and a strange way of hiding marked them too different. His Sire's caution ruled the strange female dragon among that group out. She was not one of his kind, though so similar he almost doubted his Sire.
In the end, she made the choice for him and left the area when her group did. He journeyed onward, a bit discouraged. So very many seasons passed, and he had never even caught a glimpse of another like him. His Dam's worries that they were disappearing resonated with him more with each passing cycle of cold and warmth.
O-O-O-O-O
Eventually, though, he found what he was looking for.
He had traveled far, so far, though not in a straight line. Home was months, possibly years away at this point, even if he flew straight there. Setting down on a rock ledge overlooking a pond, he watched night fall, discouraged. It had been so long.
A hauntingly familiar screech resounded, pulling him up out of his thoughts. That had been one of his kind. Not even the white one so close and yet different had made that sound when firing. Where had it come from?
The trees beyond this ledge, the forest he would have flown over the next day, to continue his search.
Another screech sounded, this one pained. At the same time, faint noises of fear and anger could be heard in that same direction, noises no dragon would make.
Without further thought he leaped into action, running into the dark forest, unable to fly there due to dense tree cover. The sounds he heard made it clear this was a fight.
He zoned in on the noises, and soon he could see the conflict. His heart leaped and shattered at the same time.
It was one like him, a dragon in the spitting image of his Dam and Sire. A female, judging by her proportions. Not old, but not young either. Mature.
And she was fighting strange prey he recognized by their danger despite the food scent. These must be No-scaled-not-prey. Because they were definitely threatening her. One was on the ground, not moving, and the other three were advancing, yelling in rage.
The female was growling, favoring her left paw, which was dripping blood. She snarled, speaking despite the fact that they couldn't hear her. "Food does not fight back! Stop it!"
Ember almost laughed at that indignant statement. He figured intervention might be appreciated. A quick fireball distracted them, and he barked to get her attention. "Leave them while they cannot see."
The female's mouth dropped open in shock at the sight of him, but she saw the wisdom in his words. She grabbed the fallen one and bounded after him.
He brought her back to the ledge he had found, stopping there. "Why did you bring it with you?"
"I need food. These prey are strange, but this will do." She dropped it, clearly considering the best way to eat it.
Ember recalled what his Sire had said. "No. No-scaled-not-prey should not be hunted or eaten."
"Why not?" The female snarled, glaring at Ember. "They smell like food. And they hurt me."
"They are not food. My Sire said they are like us, not like prey. We do not eat each other, so we should not eat them." It was a principle Sire had repeated often enough, in their hunting lessons. One did not eat other dragons or No-scaled-not-prey. Everything else was fair game.
The female clearly hadn't thought of that. She dropped the body, snorting in frustration. "But I need food."
"I will get something. Wait here." Ember left into the forest, intent on hunting something more edible for her. He had found a female of his kind. The search might be over.
O-O-O-O-O
He dragged a large deer back to the rock an hour later, panting through exertion. Carrying something this heavy long distances on foot was not enjoyable. His neck had a cramp.
The female was still there waiting curiously. She sniffed the air, purring. "That is good. For me?"
"Yes." He dropped the deer. "For you."
She tore into it, eating ravenously. Once she had finished, she looked over at him cautiously. "You are the first one like me I have met."
"Same." He sighed. "We are so rare."
"Yes. It is lonely." She moved closer. "Can we... travel together?" Her voice was uncertain. "You seem to know more of the world than I do. It would be helpful for me to learn what you know."
"Of course." Ember purred. "It is lonely, traveling alone."
O-O-O-O-O
Winter came and went. The two traveled together, as the female had requested. Ember took the time to get to know her. She was grey though of a different shade compared to his Dam, almost black, and her pale grey eyes were flecked with silver streaks.
He also came to realize that she had quite a sharp temper, though it hid a softer side. Emotions were close to the surface with her, ready to cut in an instant of aggravation, though she never let it cut anyone, taking her frustration out safely. One event, in particular, stood out among all the interactions of those months.
She had just landed badly on a sharp rock. He had warned her that it would be safer to land slowly, but they were both impatient to set down after a long day's flight, and she couldn't wait. The angered yowls and roars echoed, startling birds in the distant trees.
He landed when it was safe to approach, finding her glaring at a sharp rock. "Are you okay?"
"Of course!" She fired a small blast at the rock, shattering it. "That stupid rock is not so lucky."
Ember laughed. "You are as sharp as it is." That brought something to mind. "I am realizing that I do not know your name."
She stared at him. "Name? I do not have one. What point is there?"
He thought about it. "There is not really a point. But they can mean things. Like a way of saying who you are. What makes you different."
"What is yours?" She seemed genuinely curious.
"One-who-restarts-the-fire. Ember." He shrugged. "It means me. I like having something that means me, and not just our kind."
"Ember." She purred. "I like it too. Can you give me a name?"
"Sure." He thought about it. "How about 'One-whose-temper-cuts-like-rock'? It is accurate. Flint."
She grinned, a feral expression that had a dark undertone. "Perfect. Flint."
O-O-O-O-O
Spring rolled around, and the two of them were something more than friends. Ember hadn't actually realized it at first, though looking back Flint certainly knew. They had decided to spend a while at a mountain, one populated by dragons of all kinds, at Flint's request. It wasn't until halfway through the Spring that he remembered Sire's words.
'If she is with you when Spring comes, and is still with you when Summer arrives, then you are mates.'
He wasn't sure if Flint knew that though. She had demonstrated a surprising lack of knowledge in some areas. This might be one of them. So, one night, he sought her out and had her follow him to an isolated spot. Mainly so that the gossiping two-winged-two-legged-beak-kin wouldn't overhear. He squirmed for a moment, embarrassed and a bit worried. He liked her, but what if she didn't return the feeling? They had never found another of their kind. But she might leave and keep looking anyway.
"What is it, Ember?" Flint's voice was a bit worried.
"I wanted to ask you something." Ember steeled himself. "You know why all these dragons are here, right?" It was clearly a mating ground, especially given more dragons were arriving every day. The intent was obvious. A place dragons chose mates, if not laid eggs. That part varied by species.
Flint relieved his worries with a sly smile and offhanded reply. "Why do you think I wanted to stop here?"
"So does that mean-"
"Yes." Flint sighed, looking at him happily. "You really think I would be stupid enough not to get the implications? Besides, I like you."
Ember purred loudly. "The feeling is mutual."
O-O-O-O-O
A few days later, that resolve was tested. Ember watched with a peculiar mixture of relief and apprehension as another kin like himself arrived at the nesting grounds, a male. He was large, a striking blue, and extremely forward in why he was there. The other dragons pointed him toward Flint quickly, cowed by his aggressive nature.
Ember dropped down, landing in between the newcomer and Flint. "It is good to see another of us." He might as well start the conversation politely.
The newcomer laughed. "I have seen plenty of us, over the years. We are not quite gone yet. But it is good to see her." He gestured behind Ember at Flint. "Now, step aside."
"No," Ember growled. "You cannot have her. Besides, she clearly does not like you." The growl originating from behind him proved that.
"So?" The male laughed. "I am not staying. Our species needs to survive. Feel free to stay with one female. I search them out, making sure we do not just die out. My bloodline is strong. Better than yours, I am sure."
Ember snarled. "You cannot be serious." Dam had made it very clear. It was the duty of the Sire to help raise any hatchlings, and to stay with the Dam unless both agreed to separate. This male was just leaving Dams in his wake, alone. It was so very wrong of him to do that.
"I am." The male shoved Ember, his head pushing him back. "Feel free to stay and look after my egg. But our species needs the strongest members it can get."
Ember bit into the male's shoulder, drawing blood. "Monster."
The male wrenched out of his grip, snarling and unsheathing his claws. "Weakling."
Ember launched forward, powerful hind legs propelling him across the short distance, front claws gashing the blue male's chest. The male stumbled back, clawing at Ember's face. Ember ducked, his head against the male's chest, still ripping through tough scale and skin with his claws.
The male rolled sideways, dislodging him. He attacked immediately afterward, teeth ripping into Ember's shoulder.
Ember retaliated with a swipe of his tail, catching the male in the eye. He growled, and the two disengaged, circling each other.
The male had sheer size and muscle. But Ember had something else. Sire had taught him to fight, so long ago in the valley. This was familiar, if for real now. The male clearly wasn't thinking before he attacked. Instinct versus planning and forethought.
They tangled again, clawing and biting. Ember shredded the male's ear, but the male got in a deep gash on his side. But Ember wasn't letting this-
The male kicked out, sending him soaring. He hit the ground, rolling hard on impact. Everything hurt.
The male didn't come over and finish him off. Ember tried to force himself up, especially when he heard the male laughing and Flint snarling.
But by the time he could stand, it was over… and not in the way he had feared.
Flint stood over the body of the male, coldly watching him bleed out, a dozen deep gashes in his stomach and neck. She met Ember's eyes. "A monster like him does not deserve to live." Her voice was pure rage. "Any dragon that just uses a female and moves on is a menace."
Several nearby dragons murmured in agreement. Ember realized that while he knew much, he didn't know a lot about society in general. He had only had his own convictions to tell him what the male described was wrong. Apparently, it was a condemned behavior in the world as a whole. Good to know.
Flint's rage was visibly leaving her. She shuddered at the sight of Ember's wounds and rushed over to him. "You will be fine, right?"
He nodded. "Nothing life-threatening." It was nice that she was licking his wounds clean though. He purred, nuzzling her. "I would take far worse in your defense. Even if it seems to me you do not need much defending."
Flint laughed. "It is still nice to have someone watching my back." She looked around. "This place is for finding mates. We should go."
Ember recalled that the male had simply shown up. He pitied any who had been used by the male prior to this day. Now he wasn't so eager to meet others of their kind. "We should."
O-O-O-O-O
They flew, searching for a place to call their own. Ember recalled the valley that had been his home, and he guided their search to find a place similar. It had been good. Safe, secure. Isolated. He was beginning, after so much time mingling with other dragons, to think isolation was preferable. Well, isolation with someone he liked, anyway.
Eventually, they found somewhere that both he and Flint agreed was perfect. A small island in the middle of nowhere, one just large enough to support occasional hunting, and of course surrounded by limitless food in the ocean. The mainland was just within sight on one side, and on the other, only a set of oddly spherical sea stacks could be seen if the weather was good. Both island and the mainland were completely devoid of anything bigger than deer. No dragons, no No-scaled-not-prey. It was perfect.
Together, they dug into the side of a small hill, lacking a cave to use. It was not nearly as clean as a cave would have been, but for some reason, Flint liked that. "Let our hatchlings know the soft dirt and grass. Stone is hard and unforgiving."
He was noticing that Flint's lightning temper and sharp tongue disappeared when she was talking about future hatchlings. That was a good sign. She would be a good mother.
O-O-O-O-O
The first egg was a sight Ember had long wondered about. What would it look like? He was understandably quite curious.
Now if only Flint would let him actually see it!
"Come on, please. I just want to look." Ember whined for emphasis, curling his claws back and trying to look harmless.
"No. No one but me gets near it." Flint's voice softened as she saw her mate's sadness. "That is just how this works. I will not be so possessive once it hatches."
"Hopefully," Ember grumbled, sitting down. "Can you at least move so I can look at it from here? I cannot even see it."
"That is a good compromise." Flint shifted, revealing a large, chunky egg that seemed fashioned out of black leather, almost. It might have just been Ember's imagination, but he thought he could see it pulsing slightly.
"It is good." He sighed, getting up. "I suppose you want food." His voice was light. "Or can you catch it with an egg in tow?"
She growled playfully at him. "That is your job."
O-O-O-O-O
They spent weeks like that. Ember stayed with Flint as often as possible, talking to her to pass the time. It helped that he could vaguely remember what it was like to be in an egg and that the voices of the future hatchling's parents would offer comfort if heard often enough now. They discussed life, the past, the future. Flint had latched onto the idea of names quite quickly, and much time was spent discussing how it should be given. Ember was in favor of waiting and seeing, while Flint wanted to name the hatchling as soon as they could see it.
She made one argument Ember was hard-pressed to dispute. "I remember growing up thinking of myself as it or she. Would not a name be better?"
He couldn't argue that. Eventually, he gave in, agreeing that they'd name the hatchling as soon as they could.
O-O-O-O-O
The day finally arrived that it hatched. Ember watched closely, remembering what it had been like to be on the other side of the shell. "Come on, you can do it." The words wouldn't be understood, but the feeling behind them of encouragement would.
The hatchling emerged some time later, drenched in egg liquid. It mewled plaintively as Flint cleaned it off.
Flint eyed it once it had fallen asleep between her paws. "He is yellow."
"What of his eyes?" Ember hadn't seen them, as the hatchling had only briefly opened them.
"White, almost. A hint of silver." Flint huffed thoughtfully. "What was it your Sire told you when he named you?"
"That I was the ember of our species."
Flint purred. "Then he is the-spark-of-a-new-fire. Spark. You reignited our species, just a little. Spark."
"I like it." Ember eyed Flint. "But do you plan on him being our only spark, so to speak?"
"Not at all." Flint laughed. "We were both only hatchlings. Spark will have a little brother or sister to play with eventually."
O-O-O-O-O
The seasons again passed, a joyful time for everyone on their little island. Spark grew quickly, so much faster than Ember remembered his own childhood, which had been tinted with the impatience of youth. And he wasn't alone. Their second son, Beryl, was with him. Seeing the two play together, yellow scales clashing against pure black, white eyes meeting green eyes. Such green eyes, ones that had given Beryl his name.
The two were as different as they looked. Spark was cautious, and very closely attached to Ember. Beryl, however, followed Flint around most of the time and was far more outgoing. The two worked well together, though sometimes Ember caught himself second-guessing which was the older. Beryl had quickly taken Spark under his wing once they both had hit a certain age, despite being the younger by a full season cycle. That protective instinct was far more present in Beryl than Spark.
He loved both of his sons. And, as they grew, teaching them to fly brought memories that had faded to mind.
How long had it been? He had promised Dam to bring his mate and hatchlings back to visit. But the many, many Winters between then and the time he found Flint had made him forget. In his defense, forty-something Winters was a very long time. But he still felt awful for forgetting.
He informed Flint of his failure. She responded lightly. "Well, just wait until Spark and Beryl get old enough to go with us, and then we can go make good on your promise. No harm done, though you are a little late."
O-O-O-O-O
Ember stalked through the forest of the mainland, on high alert. Not so much for prey. He had already found a likely target. No, he wanted to be extra-sure nothing worse lurked in the woods. Beryl and Spark were trailing behind him, watching carefully.
He went through the motions of teaching them both to hunt, just as his Sire had done with him. His focus was more on how Beryl and Spark reacted. Both nodded seriously, just as he had. He told them to pass the knowledge of a clean kill on.
This last part though, he changed slightly. "There is one kind of animal in the world that you must not hunt, even though it smells like prey. No-scaled-not-prey are not to be eaten. And they are dangerous."
Beryl growled. "Why not?" He spoke for himself and Spark, who had tilted his head curiously.
Ember thought back to his few encounters with those beings. "They think like us, communicate like us. You would not hunt your brother, would you?"
Spark recoiled, shaking his head. Beryl on the other hand snarled. "They are not like Spark. He is not dangerous." He seemed to reconsider that. "To me, anyway."
"That is true." Ember shook his head. "Best to avoid them."
O-O-O-O-O
Spark and Beryl were off flying in the distance, above the sea. Ember didn't worry... much. They knew not to get too far away. Besides, he was enjoying some quiet time with Flint, a rare commodity with two almost fully grown hatchlings bumbling around.
Flint lazed on the beach, sighing contentedly at the sight of their hatchlings in the distance. Ember lay beside her.
He spoke. "They can fly now."
"Yes." She purred. "Ready to take that trip?"
"Almost." Ember laughed. "We should go soon. Otherwise, we might have a third egg to wait for."
Flint slapped him with her tail. "Control yourself. We can wait. Although I do want a girl."
"So do I." He purred, looking at her. "Eventually."
"We can just keep trying." She stood. "Though it might take-"
The sand exploded outward, enveloping Flint. Ember jerked to his feet, roaring in shock.
What he saw next might have haunted him for the rest of his life. Flint had been thrown a dozen feet away, into the surf. She was bleeding heavily, her neck and chest shredded in a circular wound. A fatal wound. Their eyes met for a second, and she choked. "Protect... them."
His vision turned red as her eyes closed. He whirled, full-out screaming at her killer.
The Spinning-Teeth-No-legs dragon launched itself at him, laughing the entire time. It spoke, as they tangled, as its spines dug into him, its teeth shredded his scales. "Good. This body is aggravating."
His vision began to darken, and he lashed out ever more feebly, the strength leeching from his limbs. The last things he saw were depressingly hopeless. Flint's body was already gone. It must have been pulled away by the water somehow. His sons were still out there in the distance. He could only hope they ran. Because there was nothing he could do now.
The darkness fell, his final thought one of agony. Flint had wanted him to protect their sons. He had failed before he could even begin.
Author's Note: Well, that was a bit of a dark ending. Many things in this chapter are important, including some that do not seem so at the time. Also, in case anyone is unhappy with having to wait another week to find out what is transpiring in the cove, I once again announce that next chapter will be posted on the 31st of October, with the chapter following posted the next day. By next Saturday we will be on chapter 9.
As a side note: in this universe, dragons do not generally take names at all. It is a quirk of Furies, and not even all Furies, something kept and passed down by the Fury family followed in this chapter. This will be explored in slightly more detail later.
As an extremely irrelevant side note, there are two hints towards a sequel to this story buried in this chapter, one somewhat obvious and the other all but impossible to see except in hindsight. More information on the sequel will be given at the end of this story. It's not at all important to this story, so don't think too hard about it.