The Catastrophic Quaken paused mid-roll, taking account of the intruders. The other dragons and humans were in the air, keeping a tolerable distance, but the human and the Gronckle on the ground still posed a threat. And they showed no signs of backing off. The human stood there defiantly, its hands stretched out before it in a confrontational manner, as if commanding the Quaken to stop. But the Quaken refused to be chased off its own island home; the Quaken would never back down. So he aimed for the human, and rolled.
And then, just as he bounced into the air for the lethal blow, the Quaken experienced the impossible. The fact that the human had not backed down was not surprising. What was surprising was the fact that the Gronckle had not backed down either. In fact, it had jumped in front of the human, a clear act of protection. An act of love.
The Quaken stopped in its tracks, dirt and dust swirling into the air from his impact with the ground, but this was nothing. The Quaken's entire world was crumbling. The world in which loneliness and terror reigned - the world in which every dragon fought only for himself - was falling apart before his very eyes. Here was a little Gronckle that proved him otherwise, her message plain. If you want to get to him, you go through me first.
The Quaken, rattled by this strange new idea of fierce love and kindness, watched carefully. The human lifted his head, looking both relieved and surprised. His eyes landed on the Gronckle in front of him, and the Quaken suddenly saw it there, too. Love. Affection. Gratitude. The Quaken's fear and anger melted away in the face of it, and the Gronckle, sensing this, immediately became friendly. The Quaken reciprocated, and like that, the atmosphere changed. There was no more need for violence, for hatred, for terror. The Gronckle and her human had taught him that. There was no room for fear in love.