As requested by MoonWallker, a continuation of chapter 42!

Soooo, incredibly late (You can smack me with a spoon over it later), the next chapter!

It wasn't long after that day in the forest before the temperature began to plummet, a cold frost dominating the forest and staining it white.

Even if Prowl had let him go outside, Jazz wouldn't have wanted to. No, he was staying inside where Prowls fire made it warm.

Prowl was still adding to all of his hoards, and it was one day when Jazz was poking through the new datapads he had brought when he came across one that was a datapad on knitting. An idea sprung to mind – knitwear was unusually warm and cosy, and Jazz supposed it had something to do with air pockets, but he felt a thousand times warmer when wrapped in a knitted blanket than he did nestled amongst the pillows in his room.

So it was then when he asked that Prowl find him some yarn, Jazz having found needles in his pile of curiosities before hand. A weird look and a nod later, Jazz found himself facing a pile of yarn taller than himself and an amused Prowl as the dragon dumped it straight on top of him.

Prick.

It took a few attempts for Jazz to get the hang of it, and several scarves later Jazz begun to make knitted squares, setting them to the side in a neat pile. Prowl would often poke his head in to see what he was doing, curious, before ambling off again.

When Jazz found him curled up tightly, ground beneath him glowing red hot from where he had burned it with his flame, he knew that he'd be needing more yarn. So Jazz asked for him to get more, and retreated back to his room to make as many knitted squares as he could.

By the time Prowl had returned with the requested yarn, acquired by suspicious means, Jazz had fallen into recharge and had flopped back onto his pillows and was surrounded by knitted squares.

Prowl silently put all of the yarn down and found Jazz's blanket, gently pulling it over his sleeping form. He would have tucked him in if he didn't want to risk waking him and thus getting caught.

Jazz was surprised when he woke up. He was sure he wasn't covered by his blanket...

The presence of more yarn didn't go unnoticed, and Jazz was quick to start dropping more lines.

Jazz officially hated needles.

He had no thimble, so stabbing himself as he stitched the squares together was commonplace. Sighing and gritting his teeth, Jazz continued. He had to get this finished after all, it was for Prowl.

The squares he had left over he stitched into his own blanket, but the vast majority went into Prowls.

Lucky bugger.

Still, it was keeping Jazz warm as he worked on it so he couldn't complain.

In the end, he only just managed to finish it in time, the gift-giving day mere joors away as Jazz worked throughout the evening.

All attempts for Prowl to see what he was up to were promptly cut short, Jazz shooing him away before he could get a glimpse. This resulted in a suspicious Prowl, but all he could do was keep an optic on him, but not what he was doing.

Come the next morning, Jazz had folded the blanket into a more manageable size and hauled it towards where Prowl usually slept - just outside his room. The ground beneath him showed signs of being burned again, and Jazz hoped that his present would be enough to keep him warm.

"Good morning, Prowl!" Jazz chirped, patting him on the belly. Prowl glared at him, whether it was because he interrupted his sleep or because he patted his tummy Jazz didn't know, but nor did he care. Now that he had Prowls attention, he brandished the blanket and attempted to throw it over him.

Needless to say, given Jazz was a fraction of Prowls size, it did not work too well.

A few curses slipped out as Jazz frowned at it, moving to climb over Prowl and set it right. The wings were a factor Jazz had forgotten, and he wasn't sure how he'd be getting around that one.

Taking pity on him, Prowl summarised that it was meant to cover his back, so he grabbed onto one corner with his teeth and gently pulled it over himself, covering his wings too.

Now that was a weird sensation.

Jazz looked very pleased with himself, sliding off Prowl and looking at him with a big grin.

"So? What do ya think?"

"What is it?" Prowl asked, shifting around in contemplation.

"It's a blanket." Jazz chirped, now used to Prowl simply not knowing what things were. He hadn't known what a dictionary was either, but it had quickly become one of his favourite things. Words, and their definitions! Excellent!

"A... Blanket?" Prowl tested this new word, looking at Jazz to make sure he'd got it right.

"Yep! Ya use it when ya cold, keeps ya warm."

Prowl nodded, shuffling again. He wasn't too sure on his wings being covered. They were sensitive, and helped him to see what was behind him. Having a blind spot wasn't something he particularly liked.

It would take some getting used to.

"So, ya like it?" Jazz asked, looking at him expectantly. Prowl didn't hesitate to nod.

Despite its fault of leaving him feeling blind, it was comfortable and warm. Jazz had obviously put a lot of effort into it. He was rewarded with a dazzling grin.

The lone figure of Jazz sat perched atop the belfry, silently watching the few figures meandering around below.

It was late at night, and nobody would be looking upwards. If they did, they'd have to have pretty damn good eyesight to be able to see him, so safe he remained.

He climbed down, taking care to not dislodge any loose bricks as he went. Just because it was late, didn't mean that the bars would be closing. Drunk mechs were laughably easy to get credits and information from.

But today, he was not here to steal their credits. No, he was after any information they might have. Discreetly pulling the fabric cloak he had tighter to himself – the weather here demanded it – Jazz entered the bar he'd been keeping an optic on.

In the town before, Jazz had heard about a league of hunters who hunted beings much larger than themselves. Namely; dragons. And they often frequented this bar.

Obviously, Jazz did not like this one bit, especially considering they were so close to Prowls den. If he could get any scoop on where they were headed, or who they were tracking down, he might be able to steer them away from the area and so away from Prowl. It wasn't as if Prowl could fend for himself – he had, many times against hunters who got too big for their boots – but the thought of it simply didn't sit too well with Jazz.

Jazz was almost certain that if Prowl found out he was in the town with hunters, he'd pitch a fit, but he was certain that if he found something of use, it would sit better with the temperamental dragon. So, taking a stool by the bar, he flicked down his hood and called the mixologist over.

After ordering, he allowed his optics to wander and watch the mechs inside. Thankfully, his visor meant that he remained undetected. Many didn't take too well to being scrutinized, and as he was alone he really didn't want to get into a scrap. Then Prowl would really get pissed with him.

How many vorn had it been since he'd first fallen into that den? Jazz didn't know, he'd stopped counting that day in the forest. Now starting on his adult upgrades, he was significantly taller than before (yet Prowl still insisted on calling him little one) and Prowl wasn't as massive as he remembered. If he asked nicely, Prowl would let him sit on his back as he went flying. Once or twice, Jazz had attempted to stand and promptly fallen off.

The… creepy hoard didn't bother Jazz as much anymore. Now that he knew what it was – simply a tradition in his now almost extinct clan – it was easy to brush off. It wasn't Prowl being malicious, or him looking to stir trouble. No, it was a way that they commemorated their dead. Prowl didn't tell Jazz how many he'd collected in total, but he knew that he was still a long way from being done. Jazz would have offered to help – he did with the other hoards – but he simply couldn't bring himself to do it. Prowl understood and never pressed the matter.

There was a loud shout from behind him, and Jazz turned around to see the group he was looking for. They were loudly laughing over their latest kill, boasting their prowess. Well. It was time to test that, wasn't it?

Accepting the drink from the mixologist, Jazz stood and sauntered over, listening into their conversation.

"Sounds dangerous, mechs!" Jazz said, gesturing to an empty seat. "Care if Ah join ya?"

There was no objection, and some even moved up to allow him more room. Grinning, Jazz promptly sat down. "So, Ah couldn't help but hear ya. Hunters, yeah?" He asked, sipping from his drink. Non-alcoholic, that was for sure. If it took a turn for the worst, he'd be getting nowhere if he was overcharged.

"You got that right." The biggest one there replied. He was a dark storm cloud grey, his voice raucous. Jazz could smell the high grade oozing from him, and fought to not wrinkle his nose. "The best of the best."

"Pretty confident, aren't ya?" Jazz teased, leaning back in his chair.

"We have reason to be." A much smaller mech replied. Jazz couldn't see their body at all; they were completely encased in fabric. Only their helm remained visible, and their optics were staring straight into Jazz's. A challenge.

"Hey now, Ah'm not doubtin' ya abilities." Jazz smoothed. "Have ya got any plans on who ta go for next?"

"What's it to you?" The third and final hunter asked, eyeing Jazz up. They were a dark blue, not unlike the colour the sea turned before a storm. "You seem to be too curious. What do you want?"

"Simply a curiosity." Jazz replied. "Ah've heard a lot about ya. Wondering if ya thinkin' of moving onto bigger 'n' better things."

The first mech to speak, and the largest, looked at him from over the top of his high grade. "We've heard that there's the last of a clan in the area, but we're not stupid enough to hunt them. His clan was vicious, took a miracle for it to be exterminated the way it was."

Jazz instantly relaxed. They weren't going after Prowl. But the fact they knew he was here irked Jazz slightly. "Exterminated?"

"There are ancient records that talk about the Praxus clan, and a war. The war ended when the clan was wiped out, save one." The one clad in fabric replied. Jazz contemplated asking them for their names, but decided against it. If he'd heard a lot about them, surely he would know their names?

"Wow…" Jazz replied, resettling himself. Prowl didn't like talking about it at all, and always fell into a state even the funniest stories couldn't pull him out of. Given a few days, Prowl would be his normal grumpy self again, but it wasn't something Jazz enjoyed seeing Prowl acting like. He vaguely knew of the war, but not that it involved Prowls clan.

"Anyway. We're not going anywhere near him and going further east instead. We've heard that there's a hunting ground there that the smaller ones frequent, should get a pretty penny there."

"Wait, ya sell stuff?" Jazz asked, raising an optic ridge. Why would they sell dragon carcasses?

"Black market, and medicine. Their parts are incredibly valuable. I'd imagine that that last of his clan fella would be worth a small fortune, but we're not going after him any time soon."

"So you plan to?" Jazz asked, trying to not let his voice drop into the threatening tone it was desperate to. Maybe he should warn Prowl.

"In time, yes." The fabric clad one replied. "However, I believe that you are prying too much. What are you here for?"

"Simply curiosity." Jazz evenly replied, downing the last of his drink and standing to leave. "Ah have ta go now anyway. Been nice gettin' ta talk ta ya."

And with that, Jazz set down his empty cube and strode out.

Jazz found Prowl snoozing atop his pile of curiosities. When he heard Jazz come in, an optic lazily flickered open and he yawned, shudder running through him. The now tatty blanket that Jazz had given him all those years ago was still covering him, and had now grown as Jazz had added more squares onto it.

"You're late." He grumbled, voice still gritty from sleep.

"Well, Ah found somethin' of interest." Jazz replied, not bothering to shrug the cloak he'd donned off just yet. Despite the fire that illuminated the den, it was still cold. "The huntin' ground to the east of here were they teach the lil' ones ta hunt is being targeted."

That got Prowls attention, and his head immediately lifted, tail flicking. "I presume they expect a welcoming committee."

"Ah'd love ta go say hi."

"Did they say when?" Prowl asked, shifting to leave the pile he was sleeping on and moving down to be on the same level as Jazz.

"No, but Ah'm guessin' pretty soon. It's usually this time a'year they start teachin' them, right?"

Prowl nodded, continuing on out of the cavern. "I'll have to go and warn them."

"Can Ah come?" Jazz asked hopefully, trotting after Prowl.

"Not this time." He replied. Jazz pouted. Same as always, Prowl never allowed him to socialize with any of the other dragons. Well, there was that one time with the youngling, but that was an accident and the conversation wasn't exactly capturing. Their vocabulary was limited at best, and at that moment in time Jazz didn't understand the clicks and the growls.

"Next time?" He ventured. Maybe?

"We'll see."

Same as always. Jazz sighed and relented, dropping the subject. Prowl shrugged off the blanket, dumping it on Jazz as he went.

"Hey!" Jazz spluttered, fighting to find the edge and escape. It was incredibly warm, but at the same time he couldn't see where he was going and had managed to walk into a rock face.

"Ow ow ow..." Jazz muttered as he rubbed his forehelm, already feeling a lump forming. He eventually shrugged it off, catching Prowls tail disappear around a corner. "When will ya be back?"

"Soon. They may ask for my help dispatching them." Prowl replied, his voice echoing.

"Don't make the kids pick up any'a ya bad habits!" Jazz warned. He'd seen Prowl in a fight, and had often fought beside him, and the number of times he'd been accidentally singed… If there were an army of younglings copying him, Jazz would run. Run so, so far. Like heck was he staying anywhere near them!

"I do not have any 'bad habits'." Prowl groused, clearly displeased. "You just choose to think of them that way."

"Ah most certainly do when Ah'm the one endin' up charred!" Jazz shot back, quickly catching up to him. "Still, point stands. Don't do anythin' stupid."

"As if I am capable of that."

Jazz gave him a look that told Prowl that yes; he clearly was, before dramatically gesturing to himself. "Hm. Yeah, sure Prowler. Whatever ya say."

Prowl simply grunted and didn't entertain him with a reply.

Going into recharge alone and waking up feeling a warm breeze blowing on you would have scared the crap out of anyone, and Jazz was no exception.

On the second day after Prowl had left, Jazz had spread out Prowls blanket so it was flat on the ground before rolling in it, wrapping it around himself like a cocoon. Wriggling around until he was comfortable, Jazz fell into recharge wondering when Prowl would be back and if he had anything interesting to show him. He usually did bring something back, whether it was to add to his numerous hoards or simply to show Jazz as he found it interesting or amusing.

Whilst he was relatively comfortable, he wasn't overly warm (the tatty nature of the blanket made sure of that) but he still managed it none the less.

Waking up again he was greeted with the sight of Prowl curled around around him, his warm breath breezing over his face.

That, he most certainly did not expect. The high pitched noise he released only served to prove that point. Prowl stirred, sleepily blinking before uncurling, stretching as much as he could in the cavern.

"When did ya get back?" Jazz asked, wriggling himself into a sitting position.

"A few joors ago. I am sorry if I woke you."

"Nah, ya didn'. What did ya do?"

"Simply warned them, had to suffer with their offers and then left."

"Offers?" That was new.

"Offers to join their clan." Prowl explained, helping Jazz out of the blanket. "They are not the first, nor the last."

"Ah didn' know ya could do that."

"If you are exiled, or leave, or find yourself without a clan, you can join another. It does help with the gene pool." Prowl admitted.

"That's great! Prowl, ya should totally do it!"

"I do not believe they will take too well to you. Had the offer been made vorns ago, I may have accepted."

"Is there anyone out there who won't try ta eat me?" Jazz grumbled, shrugging the rest of the blanket off. "Ya really need new friends, Prowl. Ah don't take ta bein' on the menu too well."

"There is one clan, they're a major player." Prowl admitted. "My clan was in the middle of discussing an alliance between them."

"Prowler ya should totally go for it!"

Prowl frowned at him. "It means leaving everything here behind."

"No skin off my back. All Ah've got is you."

That was true, Prowl belatedly realised. Jazz was an orphan, he had no family. He'd been betrayed by the others and couldn't enter the town again, and he was a wanted mech. Everything he had was in the little room Prowl had made for him.

"If the situation calls for it, I will consider it." Prowl eventually replied. It was as good as Jazz was going to get.

"Promise ya will." Jazz replied. He knew that despite Jazz being there, Prowl still craved the contact of his own species. Many of his outings were social ones.

"Promise."

"Good." Jazz grinned, seemingly satisfied.

Jazz was bored. Bored, bored, bored.

Prowl had been gone for two cycles now, but Jazz had no idea where he even was or how long he was going to take. Yesterday he had braved a trip into the town, however the hunting trio who he spoke with last time seemed to have associates in the taverns, and they all knew Jazz was one of the last to speak with them before they mysteriously disappeared.

Whoops. He really needed to work on covering his tracks…

Then, there was going into his hometown, which was much much closer than the other town, however there he would definitely be killed, and a few moments of adrenaline wasn't worth an eternity in the pit.

Perhaps a walk outside might help him.

Jazz found his cloak on his berth, and he closely wrapped it around himself as he left the cave. The forest was quiet, and he could hear the ice crunching beneath his pedes as he walked. Strange… it was too quiet.

Despite himself, he walked briskly towards his hometown. Exiled or not, there was a problem there. The forest always went silent when trouble was brewing. But Jazz didn't need to go far to find out what was happening – he could smell faint wisps of smoke and the sound of clanging bells could just be heard, if he stopped walking.

He quickened his pace.

He was running by the time he reached the gate. There were no guards stationed there, and no one on the walls – there was something big enough in the town to justify everyone being focused there. Jazz slipped in through, and stopped when he recognized something on the ground.

A scale.

It was the size of his hand, but it was the same shape as the ones that decorated Prowls neck. Which meant… Something very young was here, and it had been hit hard enough for a scale to come off.

Jazz cleared his throat. Prowl had started to teach him how to speak with their clicks and growls, but his vocalizer just wasn't cut out for it. He'd try, though. If it was a young dragon, he'd try. Following the sounds of mecha shouting, Jazz climbed up and hopped over roof tops until he spotted the dragon.

Oh it was adorable!

It was mostly red and grey, with the biggest optics Jazz had ever seen. Its wings were tucked against it as it trembled, and the remains of the communal fire were scattered around its feet. What had happened was obvious – it had detected the fire and had just wanted to stay warm. It begged the question as to where its parents were, but Jazz decided he could ask that later. He cupped his hands around his mouth and started clicking.

The dragon immediately looked at him, and scrambled to follow him when Jazz jumped down onto the streets and started running towards the gate.

"Follow me." He'd said, "I'll take you somewhere safe and warm."

The youngling didn't think twice about following Jazz.

Jazz waited at the gates for the dragon to catch up, and nearly hightailed it out of there when he saw all of the guards following it. Christ almighty! But despite how scared he was, he had to stay and wait for it to catch up.

An arrow brushed past his face.

Fuck that.

Jazz clicked at it again to try and keep up before he continued to run deep into the forest.

Oh Primus what was he doing. Prowl was going to go spare! Bringing another dragon into his den?! Oh god, there was barely enough room for both himself and Prowl!

But… Maybe this would be the push Prowl needed?

Jazz made sure the dragon was still following him. From the sounds of it, the guards were retreating back into the town. They still remembered Prowl, and likely thought he was still there. Jazz thought, anyway.

There was no point in dwelling on it, especially now that the whimpering youngling was trying to stuff its face under his cloak.

"H-hey!" Jazz jerked, and the youngling scuttled backwards into a tree in shock. "Sorry" Jazz meekly clicked at them, "Please follow me…"

The youngling chirped the affirmative back at him, and trotted a healthy four paces behind him as they walked through the icy forest. They paused when they reached the solid rock face, watching Jazz nervously as they continued walking. They tried to tell him to stop and that it was solid, but the noises caught in their throat when they saw them disappear in through the rock. Curious, they followed.

Unknown to the both of them, Prowl froze mid-word as the youngling crossed over the threshold. The first thing on his mind was 'oh god, Jazz', and then the next thing was 'oh god, Ratchet' when he realized he'd spoken aloud.

Prowl nervously looked at the medic.

"Jazz?" They asked with an eyebrow raised.

"I don't know what you mean." Prowl coolly replied.

"You just said it."

"You're hearing things."

"My hearing is fine." Ratchet testily replied. "But I can't say the same about yours if you don't tell me who Jazz is."

"No one important." Prowl replied. "I have to leave."

"No one important yet you're rushing to go." Ratchet replied before heaving a sigh. "I'll tell Optimus something came up. You'll have to come back soon."

"I will." Prowl promised.

Jazz, on the other hand, was hoping that Prowl wouldn't be coming back any time soon.

The young dragon had made itself comfortable on the tatty blanket and had taken to screaming its displeasure whenever Jazz tried to take it away. "This isn't yours!" Jazz grunted as he tried fruitlessly to tug it out from underneath it. The dragon was somewhat smaller than he was, yet somehow much heavier. Their wings were pitiful little things pressed against their side, but it didn't stop them from smacking Jazz away with them as it shrieked.

"Get up! Ah mean it!" Jazz warned with a threatening finger. "Prowl will be most upset if ya tear this!"

The dragon chuckled to itself as they simply buried down into the blanket, curled up, and closed their optics.

Oh, great. Just brilliant.

"Ya are impossible!" Jazz spat. Was he ever like this when he was younger?! No wonder he used to have a knack for pissing off Prowl, if he was anything like this little dragon was! "Hey, before ya sleep." Jazz said, nudging them with his foot. "What's your name?"

They sleepily clicked two words. "Blue streak."

Huh. Interesting name…

Any further attempts to communicate with the dragon were met with silence, and when Jazz held his breath he could hear a quiet snore. Great. They'd fallen asleep already.

Oh he was so, so dead. Prowl hated unexpected visitors!

The next chapter is pretty much already in the works so hopefully it wont take so long! I'm so sorry ;A;

~Llama