Chapter Two: Of Tourmaline Eyes and Green Scales

Year 203 of the 82nd Era, The Era of the Dying Lands; e82-203

Mid Spring

Savannah of Yellow Flowers, North of the Meadow of Sunshine

The late morning sun beat down on the parched earth. A young crystalborn boy walked along a riverbank. He had been walking for quite some time, far too long if his older brother had any say, but Russet Adder wasn't there to force him to turn around. Little Viper was too curious about the other herds filtering through the Savannah of Yellow Flowers over the past moon cycle. So, to satiate his curiosity, he took a long walk along the Yellow Petal River, where all the herds were bound to be.

The boy jabbed the butt of his spear into the rocky shore, pausing to think and stare across the glittering waters. His copper eyes narrowed, and his lips pursed as he tried to keep the grin from pulling at the corners of his mouth at the sight beyond the trees.

He had found a herd.

The large, brown-scaled bodies of smallcrest singers rested in the wettest part of the savannah. The rainfall and waters of the river didn't drain well from the bog that had developed over the past few years. Little Viper's herd-tribe never dared to venture across the river into the bog since they had lost a herd member. Before the boy was born, his herd-tribe had lost an elder to the thick muck.

According to the stories he had overheard, after all the singers had left their nesting ground, an elder of his herd-tribe was enticed across the river by a rather delicious-looking blossom. He easily swam until he climbed onto the banks and lumbered into Mudsing's Bog. It wasn't until the blossom was savored and settled into the pit of his stomach that the elder noticed something was wrong. When he couldn't pull his legs from the muck, he settled to rest and waited for help. When they found him, the thick mud had covered his head and suffocated him. It took Little Viper's parents and their magic to get the elder's massive body out of the muck without losing another member to the mud.

Redback, the elder, never got to see his grandchildren.

Somehow, the just as large singers had learned how to deal with and navigate the deadly mud. It was a surprise that they kept returning every year when their chances of hatching young decreased the wetter the bog became. Maybe it was because it was named after the herd-tribe leader, Mudsing, so they felt they could not abandon it. After all, the singer herd-tribe possessed the nesting ground for generations, but it had only been renamed a few decades ago. Little Viper peered among the singers at the thought of the herd-tribe leader, but he couldn't make out the dark-taupe body of the elderly doe.

Already tiring of herd-watching, the young boy stooped down and picked up a small rock that the lapping waters of the Yellow Petal River had smoothed. He rolled it between his fingers. Lips pursed into a pout, he thought of the other herds along the river. The boy wanted to walk further downriver — much, much, much further until he found the very special herd — no, a family. Just a family. His older brother had been the first to see them when they arrived and took residence far south of any other herd. It was a family of three longnecks. They traveled with a crystalborn, and the youngest mare was heavily gravid.

Little Viper had never seen a longneck up close.

He wiggled his toes within his shoes, legs itching to sprint down the river, and mouth ready to speak the words of empowerment that would will him onwards. What kind of longnecks would they be? Were they bumpheads, longnecks with protruding skulls, and who grew to enormous sizes? Perhaps they were whiptails, their bodies spanning the horizon and tails that cracked like thunder? Or maybe they were the elusive dawnnecks, many of which walked on their hind feet rather than all four.

Still, no matter how badly he wanted to see the mysterious family, Little Viper knew the limits of his magic. He might be young, but every crystalborn learned the limit of their magic at a young age, and Little Viper had learned his limit about a year ago. He might have the words on his lips to bring him to the longnecks, but his small body couldn't handle the spell that would help him back to his tribe. So, it was go and see the longnecks and be too exhausted to use magic on the trip back, resulting in him not getting back home until much later in the afternoon or go back now and not see the family.

The boy fidgeted, lips pursing in thought as he weighed his options. He wanted to see them but was also tired, and the sun beating down on his back was warm. He shielded his eyes from the harsh sunlight, judging how long he had been exploring the riverside. His mother would be looking for him soon.

Maybe tomorrow, he would look for the mysterious family of longnecks and crystalborn and bring Russet Adder. It would be an adventure for the two brothers. Yes, that sounded good to him.

Little Viper still felt the call to use his magic. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, brushing a hand through his short gold-colored hair, equally damp with sweat. He rubbed a pointed ear between his fingers, taking one last long glance down the river before leaving to begin his journey home. His sweat-slick fingers found the glowing copper marking wrapped around his right elbow. Every crystalborn was born with a glowing birthmark. It was what told the world that they could wield magic, not that their already strange appearance and smell didn't cue anyone.

Little Viper mindlessly traced the glowing lines around his elbow and poked the non-uniform dots scattered across the thick lines. The large, abstract marking was unique to his kind of crystalborn — the Weavers. His older brother's mark was a darker copper, crisscrossed across his right shoulder and spattered with tiny glowing flecks. Each member of his family had simple, pointed ears, not like the crystalborn that lived among the smallcrest singer herd-tribe across the river. Even though they were crystalborn, they differed from Little Viper and the others in his herd-tribe. Maybe that was what it felt like when the earthborn of the two herd-tribes watched each other. Similar, but so different.

The boy raised his copper gaze to the sun again, feeling its rays heat his bronze-colored skin as he shielded his eyes. If he would not use his magic to run to the longneck family, he could at least alleviate some of the heat. Licking his lips, Little Viper let the magic flow through his body, warming the glowing mark that adorned his elbow, traveling up his throat, and spreading across his tongue until he could almost feel the wisps of copper magic flicker off his lips. He was a Weaver of Chant, after all.

"Cool. I don't want to be warm anymore. Just… cool…" He breathed out the words, the sharp taste of magic thick on his tongue and almost flowing out of his mouth. Nothing but a few wisps of glowing copper magic could be seen, but as the wielder of the magic, Little Viper could feel everything. He had to keep his thoughts steady and his voice strong, pulling and weaving the magic into the single word and the core of its meaning. It was cool and without heat, like a windy day in late autumn when the leaves changed colors and fell from their branches.

A gentle chill blanketed his skin.

Little Viper opened his eyes, finding himself stopped beside the river as he focused on his magic. He grinned, happy that his magic had worked. Not long ago, he had learned the basics of word weaving, but he was learning fast.

Little Viper continued the way he had come, the river-smoothed stone still in hand, using his spear as a walking stick. He hummed a small tune, happy he didn't feel like he was burning under the sun anymore. Walking along the river, he spotted a herd of grey hornfaces in the distance. His delight in his spell and excitement for tomorrow withered into nothing as he glared at the hornface herd. He rolled the rock against his palm with his fingers, bitterness churning inside his belly.

He didn't like frillheads much, and he didn't like the big hornfaces with their magnificent displays of frills and horns, especially those from that herd. They were why his herd-tribe wouldn't have any hatchlings this nesting season.

"Why'd they have to chase us out?" Little Viper grumbled, his feet carrying him closer to the hornface herd rather than keeping him close to the river. "I wish I knew how to make them disappear, but Mama and Papa told me it wouldn't help. All the eggs are already gone…." He kicked at a patch of dirt, glaring at the yellowing grass. "Why'd the land have to change? The hornfaces wouldn't have chased us out if it hadn't changed. And if we didn't get chased out, everyone would still have their eggs."

Further and further, the crystalborn boy walked, bringing him closer to his herd-tribe's former nesting ground. The hornfaces hadn't even settled near it. Little Viper couldn't understand why they couldn't have shared the Meadow of Sunshine. Then again, hollowcrest singers with different shaped crests rarely shared herds, nor did hornfaces with different horns and frills. Why would their herds even think of mingling?

But would it be that bad?

Then again, what did he know? He was just a kid and a crystalborn, no less. Crystalborn didn't understand the ways of the earthborn, skyborn, or waterborn. They were people and wielders of magic. Crystalborn lived among all the creatures of the realm. Most earthborn barely mixed among those who did not smell, look, or act like their kind.

Something crunched, breaking Little Viper from his thoughts. The boy stopped and listened for the noise again. He had walked far enough away from the river, and he could barely hear its gurgling, and even though the loud voices of the hornface herd beyond the Meadow of Sunshine drifted across the land, he could just make out the sound again. The boy spun around; the river-smoothed stone forgotten, dropped at his feet. Little Viper crouched low to the ground, slinking towards the source.

His copper eyes fell upon a familiar clump of grass — a nest from his herd-tribe. However, a thick, lapis-blue-feathered tail stuck out from the grasses. Little Viper crept forward, eyes wide and spear held at the ready. A stick cracked underfoot. The boy froze. A sharp breath sliced through him as the earthborn's head shot up from the nest, yolk dripping from his beak.

It was a clawhand fastrunner, standing on bird-ish hind legs and sporting a diet of something other than plants. He was covered in a thick coat of faded-elderberry feathers, his back spotted with near-perfect circles of faded-sodalite. Tattered lapis-blue feathers adorned his wings and tail plumage, while his underside was a light shade of elderberry. The fastrunner sported a boney, lapis-blue crest atop his head, leading down into an equally boney beak.

He was an Earthborn Clawhand Fastrunner Bluntbeak Sanddancer Sunraider. And he was a clawhand known for having an omnivorous diet — a dulltooth.

Crystalborn and sunraider stared at each other, blue to copper. Then the sunraider blinked and turned tail, looking over his back, eyes filled with sorrow. "I'm sorry." Feet planted on the flat earth, the blue-and-purple feathered gander sprinted away hard and fast.

Little Viper clutched his spear tight, knuckles turning white as he stared at where the sunraider had just been.

The boy had been mere paces from a clawhand. The fastrunner could have turned and attacked him instead of running. That could have been the end of him. Then again… if a hornface saw him, that could have also been his end.

Shaken, the boy approached the nest. Little Viper pushed back the tall grasses the sunraider had emerged from with trembling hands. Among the flattened foliage were the broken fragments of two eggs, still covered in yolk and blood from the young that had just been devoured. Little Viper dropped into a crouch and set his spear aside, eyes never moving from the remains of the two eggs. He picked up the largest eggshell fragment, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The dark splotches on the shell were all too familiar.

Sniffling, Little Viper cradled the eggshell close to his chest. He knew the parents of the eggs had been trying so hard to have another child after their first had hatched.

Through teary eyes, he glared at the hornfaces in the distance. It was their fault his herd-tribe had lost this season's hatchlings. The boy didn't even blame the sunraider — just the greedy frillheads.

Little Viper's mother had told him this spring had been far worse than any previous year. Everyone was hungry and, for fastrunners like the sunraider, the plants and fruit they ate weren't around. So, they had to resort to a different diet. Still, he wished he had seen the nest sooner. Then he would have been able to chase the sunraider away before he ate the eggs.

Little Viper stood from the abandoned nest and tucked the largest piece of eggshell into one of the leather pouches strapped to his hip. He wiped away a stray tear, picked up his spear, and continued home but didn't walk closer to the river.

The boy just had to make his heart ache more.

He saw the other familiar nests of his herd-tribe. He didn't dare look into them. It had been a few days since his herd-tribe had been forced to move. By now, other local wildlife and starving earthborn would have quickly picked up the family-less eggs. If not, the eggs would have turned rotten without someone to look after them.

As Little Viper walked, his mind numb to the fate of each egg and the future of this nesting season's hatchlings, he heard something. It was very faint, but it was something.

Snoring.

The boy turned to his right and gawked at the tall clump of grass. It was a nest made by his herd-tribe. What creature was making that noise within the grasses? Did it eat those eggs too? Was it another fastrunner, or maybe a swiftleg? What if it was a carnivorous clawhand who was sleeping off their meal? Little Viper shouldn't approach the nest. It would only cause more heartbreak, and danger might lurk in the tall grasses, but he had to see what was making the noise.

Crouched low to the ground, and spear clutched in both hands, he approached the nest. Heart pounding like a stampeding herd, he parted the dried grasses with his spear's head.

He blinked.

It was just an egg. A perfect, round, white egg that was… snoring?

Dropping his spear, Little Viper crawled closer to the egg. "Hello?" he asked, raising a hand, ready to wrap his knuckles on the hard surface of the egg. One soft knock and Little Viper jerked back at the startled squeak from the egg. The hatchling within shifted, and the egg toppled onto one side, revealing a wide crack. Within the crevice, a dusky-gold belly was visible.

There was a hatchling inside the egg, one that was very much alive.

With trembling hands, Little Viper reached for the egg. It had to be someone's offspring from the herd-tribe. Why would the hornfaces or anyone leave their eggs unattended? Especially one that was bursting at the seams. Either way, Little Viper wasn't letting the baby inside get eaten by hungry predators.

"Hello?" the boy repeated, laying a small hand on the egg. "I know you don't know what I'm saying, but I'm here to take you home. But if you need to hatch first, then hatch. But do it fast. There are many scary things out here." Little Viper glanced behind himself, waiting for the sunraider to return or something much nastier.

He should do something about it.

Sucking in a deep breath, the crystalborn spoke one word. "Quiet." The wisps of copper magic danced off his lips and curled into the air. A strange presence fell over Little Viper and the hatchling. He could still hear, but if he moved his head too fast, everything became muffled, like he was underwater.

"It worked," he whispered and turned back to the egg. "Okay, you can take some time, but I don't know how long my spell will last. I just started using my magic, but I think I'm getting good at it. Don't you think?"

Little Viper caught himself. He was talking to a hatching baby. They didn't know what he was talking about.

He leaned forward to put his other hand on the egg, only for its top to break off. He pulled his hands back as the hatchling ducked its head back into the egg.

"Don't be scared!" Little Viper leaned forward, smiling at the hatchling within. "Your family is waiting for you, whoever they are. Come on. There isn't much more hatching for you to do." He wiggled his fingers. A swirl of something like copper-colored smoke flickered around his fingers before vanishing. "Pretty, huh? Here." Little Viper closed his eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and released it before opening his eyes again and saying, "Strength. Courage."

The hatchling peeked from the egg and smiled at Little Viper almost dreamily. Little Viper smiled back, fatigue settling over him with the last word. At least it worked, but he shouldn't use any more magic.

No more fear was running through them. The hatchling yawned and curled back up to sleep, the egg toppling backward with the shift of weight. Snoring sounded from within the half-broken egg. The infant passed out the moment they shut their eyes. Little Viper planted his hands on his hips and glared at the egg. Frustrated and tired, he chipped away at the hard eggshell with his fingers.

"You're alone. You want to see your mama and papa, don't you?"

The hatchling kept snoring, not bothered by the crystalborn chipping away at their egg. Little Viper freed the hatchling's tail, revealing four small nubs on the end of it. The boy pulled the hatchling from the remains of the shell and held him to the light.

The infant was an Earthborn Stoneback Plateback Spiketail Mossbelly.

The cria was dim-hazel with a dusky-gold underside. He sported a burnt-xanthine spine-stripe that was bound to grow across his back as he aged, looking like all the other darker dorsum the adult mossbellies had. His tiny plates were a simple brown, but being a male, they were bound to change into something much brighter, maybe orange or yellow. Lastly, the cria's sleepy eyes were a beautiful dark-tourmaline.

"How about I call you Spike because you're a spiketail. But, when we find your parents, they can call you whatever they want." Little Viper smiled at the cria and placed him back among his eggshells.

Spike stared up at the crystalborn with sleep-lidded eyes. He sluggishly climbed to his feet and lumbered out of his nest. The newly hatched mossbelly then devoured every blade of dried grass around his nest. He chewed with such gusto. Little Viper stared, unable to believe Spike had hatched only a few heartbeats ago. When he finished off the last blade of grass, Spike laid down, quickly dozing off.

"No! Don't do that!" Little Viper picked Spike up, cradling the hatchling in the crook of his arms. "I have to take you home. But… you can sleep in my arms if you want." Little Viper cradled the hatchling momentarily before climbing to his feet and grabbing his spear. "Time to take you home, little guy."

Little Viper reached where his herd-tribe had taken root for the next moon cycle. His spells had worn off, and he was hot again under the harsh midday sun. The boy was exhausted from walking and using too much magic. Still, he tried to keep running through a list of expecting parents. Whose child was this? It didn't help that all the mossbellies in the herd-tribe were shades of greens and browns. The slumbering cria was no different.

As the boy neared the mossbellies, an older, dim-gold-haired boy jogged out of the herd, greeting him. It was his older brother, Russet Adder. But, as Russet Adder neared Little Viper, the smile fell from his face.

"Where did you find that?" the older boy grabbed Little Viper's shoulders, staring into his younger brother's copper eyes, daring him to lie.

"He hatched! Little Viper held Spike out to his brother, dropping his spear. The cria blinked at the taller crystalborn, letting out a soft coo. "I found him in the Meadow of Sunshine. None of the hornfaces were there, and all the nests were abandoned. I heard snoring, found an egg, and then he hatched. I named him Spike, and we need to find his parents!"

"Wait, wait, wait." Russet Adder grabbed the cria from Little Viper's hands, turning him this way. "Green, gold underbelly, dark pink eyes…." Before finishing his observation, a large mossbelly shoved his small head between them.

The stag couldn't open his beak to ask about the cria before Little Viper took Spike from his brother. "I found him! I need to find his parents! Can you help, Sageswing?"

The faded-peridot spiketail blinked. Like most mossbellies in the herd-tribe, he possessed a darker dorsum and a lighter underside, his being a pale-peridot. His eyes were mud-colored, and his plates were a deep red.

Sageswing blinked dusky-caramel eyes at the boy. With a small shake of his head, he replied. "Y-yes. Of course! Take the cria to the matron. My sister will be happy to see a hatchling." The stag shoved his beaked snout into Little Viper's back and ushered Russet Adder with a flick of his thagomizer.

The two boys stumbled into the centermost area where the herd had gathered. Sageswing cleared his throat. "We have an announcement!"

Everyone stopped and turned to the boys. Beaks dropped open, leaves fell from mouths, and gasps echoed between the herd members. It was a cria, but there was something more than that. The whispers started before Little Viper could say anything.

"It's a cria…."

"Who does it belong to?"

"Do you think it could be ours…?"

"What about the leader? Her mate has the same eyes."

The last comment sent a hush through the herd.

"Someone! Get Amaranthflick! Her child has been found! Our leader's child has been found!"

The rejoicing calls of mossbellies filled the air, drowning out Little Viper's protests. He tried to shout over their voices, screaming that he had seen a pair of dark, splotched eggs. That the familiar eggs had their insides devoured by a sunraider, but the herd kept calling to the sky in celebration until a lumbering form approached.

She was a lighter green than most of the herd, the same shade as Sageswing. Her eyes were the color of wet sand, and she sported dusky-liver-red plates. If she had been a stag, she and Sageswing might have shared the same red plates, just like their father, Redback. Too bad the former patron of the herd never got to see his grandchild — grandchildren, after his mind slipped and he succumbed to the mud in Mudsing's Bog.

Beside the leader, her dim-hazel-scaled mate walked. He sported a dusky-gold underside and striking amber plates. His eyes were a lovely shade of dark-tourmaline and were half-hooded, much like the sleepy cria in Little Viper's arms.

Amaranthflick gawked a Spike. She didn't approach until Smoothspike, her mate, nudged her shoulder with his beaked snout. She couldn't take her eyes off the hatchling until she stood beak to beak with the infant. Oh-so-carefully, as if he would vanish before her eyes if she touched him, she sniffed. He smelled no different from any other newly hatched cria. He carried the familiar familial scent on his dim-hazel scales and stared at her with the same half-lidded eyes that Smoothspike always gazed at her with.

The matron tore her eyes from Spike, tears glittering in her dim-beige eyes as she looked down at Little Viper. "Where-where did you find him? Did you really find my baby? Is my baby really alive?" She paused, a tear slipping down her beak. "What-what about my other egg? What happened to them? Why aren't they…."

Little Viper stared back at her, tears falling from his copper eyes. Amaranthflick's shoulders dropped, and another tear fell. "It didn't hatch, did it? That's okay. At least I have this little one. Come now. You need to meet your older brother." She leaned forward to nose the cria, but Little Viper stepped back, shaking his head, a wordless whimper sounding from his throat.

Russet Adder gave his younger brother a stern look. "It's her kid, Little Viper. You can't keep him even though you watched him hatch. He's still someone else's kid and needs a mossbelly to care for him."

"It's her hatchling," Sageswing stepped forward, his deadly spiked tail twitching. "Give him to her."

"Calm, little brother." Amaranthflick rested her spiked tail between the red plates on his back. She sniffled, but her expression stayed soft even as more tears ran down her cheeks. "Young Little Viper has his reasons. Tell me why you won't let me have my child."

"He isn't your baby."

"What'd you mean it's not her baby? It looks just like Smoothspike!" Sageswing stomped a foot, leering at the young crystalborn.

Little Viper hugged Spike closer, tongue stiff with fear.

The larger, green body of Smoothspike shoved Sageswing aside. "Calm down. You've always had a hot temper. I blame it on you being too young when your dad died. Take a deep breath, Sageswing, and let the kid speak. If the little guy's my cria, then he's my cria. If he's not, he's not."

Subduing a sob, Little Viper stuttered. "I saw-I saw a sunraider." He stroked Spike's back, fingers running down his scales. "I'm sor-sorry I didn't stop-stop it."

"What'd you mean?" Smoothspike drawled.

"A sunraider. It was-was eating eggs. The eg-eggs had dark splo-splotches on them. Like… like your eggs." He sniffled, wiping his running nose on his shoulder.

Amaranthflick stared in horror at the boy's tear-stained face.

"It must have been someone else's eggs that looked the same!" Sageswing grumbled. "That cria looks just like Smoothspike. It has to be our matron's son. My sister's child."

More voices chimed in agreement from the mossbellies watching in the background.

Shoulders still shuddering from his sobs, Little Viper handed Spike to his older brother. The cria stared sleepily at the older boy, not understanding anything happening around him. As Russet Adder took Spike into his arms, Little Viper opened the small leather pouch on his hip, pulling out a large fragment of an eggshell sporting a distinctive dark brown splotch. Carefully holding them in his hands, more tears rolled down his cheeks as he stared at Amaranthflick, waiting for her response.

She just shook her head. "No…"

But the voices of the other mossbellies speaking amongst each other drowned out her voice.

"No!" Her voice rose above her herd.

Everyone fell silent.

Sniffling, Amaranthflick addressed Little Viper again. "I believe you. Those shells are from my eggs. And I think I know who this cria belongs to." Another tear rolled down her cheek as she turned to face her mate. He gave her a slow nod, his eyes solemn but understanding, and turned away. Amaranthflick lumbered beside him, and the crystalborn boys walked between them while the rest of the mossbellies stayed put.

Far away from the commotion was another pair of mossbellies, similar to Amaranthflick and Smoothspike. The hind looked just like Amaranthflick but with dark-caramel eyes, and the stag looked nearly identical to Smoothspike. Another hush fell over them, the murmurs and whispers of the herd-tribe slithering in the distance.

"As you boys may know, Hibiscusnudge, my clutchsister, and her mate, Largebelly, Smoothspike's clutchbrother, have been trying for a cria for years. Every clutch they laid turned rotten. But the herd didn't know that they had another egg this season. Earlier than usual. They kept it a secret because it might turn rotten like all the others. Hibiscusnudge and Largebelly did their best to watch over the egg, but then… the hornface herd came. They forced us out of the Meadow of Sunshine, and we couldn't take any of our eggs. There wasn't enough time to ask for help before we were shoved away from our nesting ground. And now look at them. They aren't even living in that part of the meadow."

"Why didn't you ask Mom and Dad to help? Or the other crystalborn?" Little Viper asked in a quiet voice. His sobs subsided, but his face was still wet with tears.

"We would have, but the hornface herd strongly hates crystalborn. The day they took over, one saw Russet Adder and nearly charged. Their horns are as deadly as our spikes, and they aren't the peaceful giants that we are." She gently pressed her beak into Little Viper's chest. "I had to save the lives that I could of my herd-tribe. I couldn't… I couldn't sacrifice them for the lives of the unborn. I wish one hornface had the heart to look after the eggs, but they haven't."

"You don't…you don't blame the sunraider, do you?"

"No. Of course, I don't. The land is dying. It has been for years. And with each year, finding something to eat becomes harder and harder. Sunraiders, like all dullteeth, had to make some changes to survive. If they had to eat eggs, they had to eat eggs. Our nests were abandoned. What else could we do? I wish it hadn't happened, but it has, and nothing can be done about it. This little one must be the only survivor since eggs can't thrive long without a guardian looking after them."

"Shall we take the little guy to my brother?" Smoothspike asked, the smallest but warmest of smiles pulling at the corners of his beak. "The little guy needs to know his parents, doesn't he? The herd will be happy to know the cria is still of leader blood."

Amaranthflick smiled at her mate, brown eyes still watery. "If anyone deserves a hatchling, it's my sister."

As crunching grass and grinding footsteps approached, Hibiscusnudge and Largebelly looked up from where they had been mumbling to each other and munching on a bush. It took only a heartbeat for Hibiscusnudge's dark-caramel eyes to fall upon the cria that Little Viper held. She just stared, looked up at her sister, back at Spike, and then at her sister again. The nod from Amaranthflick was all she needed.

Hibiscusnudge carefully approached the small crystalborn boy and sniffed the cria. Little Viper smiled at her and placed Spike on the ground, pushing him toward his mother. Mother and son stared at each other. Spike took a long moment to figure out where he was and what he was staring at, but he cooed at the lighter green hind, smiling sleepily up at her. Hibiscusnudge leaned down and nuzzled him, happy tears falling from her eyes. Spike nuzzled her back, but then something caught his eye.

Climbing onto wobbly legs, Spike stomped his way over to his father. Largebelly lowered his head to nuzzle his son, but the cria ignored him, stopping to feast on the bush his parents had just been eating from. Largebelly wasn't the least bit offended. The stag just chuckled and joined his infant son in grazing.

"Typical spiketail," Russet Adder whispered under his breath.

Hibiscusnudge laughed, tears glittering in her eyes. She looked at her sister, the matron of the herd-tribe. "Is he really mine?"

"Little Viper said a sunraider had broken into my eggs. He has the evidence. You were the first to lay your eggs this season, and he looks just like Largebelly. Well, as much as he looks like Smoothspike." Amaranthflick laughed, rubbing her head against her mate's neck, and kept talking. "It makes sense that the little one lived through the jostling of the hornface herd. He was more than ready to hatch. I am sure he is of your flesh and blood, sister."

"Oh…thank you, thank you." Hibiscusnudge joined her sister in a needed touch of necks, relishing the warmth. When the two withdrew, she smiled. "It's a miracle. I thought I lost him, but here he is." She laughed and turned to watch her son and mate.

"I named him Spike," Little Viper said, grinding his foot, shyly looking up at Hibiscusnudge.

"Spike…" the hind smiled. "I like it, but he still needs a true mossbelly name. How about…Sunspike?"

A faded-peridot head nosed its way between the three adults. Dark-tourmaline eyes looked between them until his eyes fell upon the infant Spike. "A new brother?"

"A new cousin," Hibiscusnudge corrected. "That's Sunspike, but you can call him Spike, Wildplate. He is mine and Largebelly's baby. Your cousin."

"Spike!" the youngling cried, grinning broadly. The faded-peridot cria waddled up to Spike and pawed at his side. Spike turned a half-lidded gaze to him and smiled. It wasn't long before the two were romping around like typical mossbelly hatchlings.

"We should introduce him to the herd," Amaranthflick offered. "They will bother us until they know who he belongs to. Wait until they hear you accepted a name from a crystalborn boy." She smiled warmly down at Little Viper.

Little Viper smiled back. He was happy to have brought some light back into the herd-tribe again.

The day was the first good day for the spiketail herd-tribe. As their life brightened, the telling signs of dark clouds grew in the sky. A storm was brewing and would bring welcomed rains to the dry lands. However, another pair of new parents, not too far away, wasn't having as wonderful journey of hatching new life.