Hey guys! How's it hanging? Anyway, I'm back with another chapter. This one will be interesting–it's the reaping! The thing you've all been waiting for! Anyway, I don't want to spoil y'all, but it's gonna get good.

Stay tuned and enjoy chapter 4!


POV: Glory

My sleep was awful. Tossing and turning took over most of the night. And when I don't sleep well, I get very grumpy.

Feeling restless, I open my eyes. It's Reaping Day, a day I always dread. In the past few years that I have been eligible to be picked, I haven't been, so there's no reason for me to be all that nervous.

I'm, like, one in a million to be picked. But anything can happen. My nerves clearly never forgot that message.

When I stand up, I realize that no one is in the sleeping cave anymore. But when I stride out of the arch of stone, still no one resides at the dining table except for our guardians.

"Where is everyone?" I ask, my voice tired from lack of sleep.

"Sleeping." Webs answers. "Why?"

"But…they weren't in the cave…" I trail off. Sleeping? Dune points to the cave straight across from me. Sure enough, they're all there, snoozing on top of one another like we did when we were little.

I look back at the cave I just came out of, confused.

"But isn't that–" I point to the cave but am cut off by Kestrel.

"You decided to sleep alone tonight. Didn't you know?" I slept alone? When did that happen? I remember very vividly tucking myself in under Clay's wing. And then I realize I must have sleep-walked to another cave, my scales, even under the spell of sleep, not appreciating dragon touch for too long.

My brain must be very out of whack. I think the nerves are getting to me.

"Oh." My shoulders slouched. I normally always wanted to sleep close to my friends the night before the reaping, even if it was in my blood to dislike affectionate gestures that required touching.

"Is it early?" I ask, feeling my eyelids grow heavy with fatigue. I want to go to sleep again, but it's probably too late now.

"Just a touch. Everyone should be up in about ten minutes or so." Webs responds. Once again, I sag, feeling exhausted. I decide to eat without my friends, hunger getting the better of me. After all, breakfast is already laid out on the table.

I grab a piece of stale mango and am in the process of grinding it down when Clay stumbles out of the cave, his eyes looking as sleepless as my own.

"Didn't sleep well?" That's the first thing I ask him when he sits. He shakes his head in response and unlike usual, doesn't grab anything to eat.

"Not going to eat anything?" Webs asks Clay, who looks like he wants to fall back asleep. Once again, Clay shakes his head. He looks sad, or depressed. I've never seen him look so out of character before. So I find myself thinking something I never would on a normal basis. I want to give him a hug and tell him that everything is going to be alright.

But this isn't a normal basis. It's Reaping Day. So I'll accept such an odd thought.

Next to arrive at breakfast is Tsunami, who looks much more rested than both Clay and I, but she still doesn't look 100%. Are any of us going to be today?

I won't be able to sleep or think or do anything normally until the stress of Reaping Day is out of the way, and I have confirmation that we're all safe.

Unlike Clay, Tsunami grabs a chunk of cow right away and begins to chew it. She's eating quickly, as if she wants to stuff as much breakfast as she can fit into her stomach before we have to get ready. As if it's her last meal. And it very well may be if things don't go the way we plan.

For the first time this morning, I realize that we have twice as much breakfast as we normally do on a regular day.

"What's with the extra breakfast?" It's not me who asks. It's Tsunami. Great minds think alike, I guess. Not that either of us are great minds. Whatever, it's just a saying.

It's Kestrel who answers. "Don't you remember? Reaping Day breakfasts are always big. Thank Webs. He woke up extra early just so he could prepare this for you." I know Kestrel is trying to be nice today because she doesn't know if any of us are going to be here after today, but her usual sneer always shines through. I guess "nice Kestrel" would be a little weird. I think I like her the way she is.

I'm suddenly horrified at what I just said. I'm basically complementing Kestrel. But it isn't that surprising. After all, I'm not guaranteed another breakfast with her. Not that that's a bad thing, but maybe I'll miss these "family" breakfasts. That is, if I get picked.

Oh, dear moons, let it not be me. Let it not be any of us.

Finally, after I'm basically done eating, Sunny and Starflight stumble out of the cave, clinging to each other like there's no tomorrow. It's not irrational, the way they hold each other. Tomorrow isn't promised for every dragon in Pyrrhia. Just the ones who are lucky enough not to be picked. Which is most dragons.

Geez, my thoughts are out of control today.

"Hurry up and eat," Kestrel says. She sounds more like a mother than ever. She's talking mainly to the two who just woke up, but I finish my last bite of mango and stand up, ready to adorn myself for the big day.

I didn't eat much, but I don't think my stomach could handle another bite. And looking around, I think everyone agrees by the looks on their faces. Sunny isn't normally a waster, but she stands up with a half-eaten green lizard on her stone slab.

If there was any waste, Clay would jump up to eat it, but today he just looks at it and shakes his head, not saying a word. He hasn't since last night.

Tsunami normally refrains from eating other peoples' food, but she snatches the unfinished lizard and eats it up. Starflight looks nervous as always, but when Webs begins to clear up, his heavy steps make scrolls roll. Normally Starflight would jump to save the rolled up papers before any damage was caused to them, but today he looks paralyzed, only watching the scrolls rest on the stone-cold floor.

Everyone is off their game, and so am I. It's what to be expected. Today is a once-in-a-year occurrence.

Not being able to stand our essential paralyzation any longer, Kestrel ushers us to the freezing cold river to wash up. Only Tsunami enjoys the frigidity of the water. She jumps right in, while the rest of us follow reluctantly.

I duck underneath, rinsing my every scale. I, along with everyone else, is as shiny as silk when we emerge from the cleansing river that flows through our home of caves.

Kestrel lends us adornments, something she only does on Reaping Day. Tsunami picks through a stash of pearl necklaces that legally belongs to her, but Kestrel claims ownership of them anyway. Kestrel can't stop Tsunami from doing so, because she has every right to wear something that is rightfully hers.

All I put on is a simple ruby necklace that contrasts the color of my scales. Tsunami wraps herself in pearl chains, while both Clay and Starflight wear black chokers on their arms. Starflight's silver underwing scales glimmer after being rinsed. His black choker does not pop against his black scales, but I think he prefers it that way.

Sunny enjoys decorating herself with jewelry, mainly because she only gets to once a year. She sports an emerald necklace and sapphire-ruby mix necklace around her neck.

After the guardians prepare themselves in the river, then with their own stashes of accessories, we line up at the entrance rock, waiting patiently but rather excitedly for him to open it, having not been outdoors for a whole year.

Finally, Dune approaches us with the key to the lock on the entrance hanging around his neck. He inserts it, rolls the boulder aside, and finally, I feel the fresh air on my face. The scent outside is normal for normal dragons, but we're not normal dragons and to me, the scent is lovely.

My friends and I follow Kestrel by flight to the Reaping Day site. All the tribes gather in one place, but they're separated into tribes, so I never get to be next to my friends when it goes on.

When we arrive about an hour later, hundreds of thousands of dragons are already claiming their spots in the crowds. It's easy to tell where exactly each tribe is by color. MudWings are brown, SeaWings are blue, SandWings are yellow, and so on. My tribe, the RainWings, are all sorts of different colors, most of them representing emotions, but there's a general blue-green-aqua sort of vibe. Many are sickly green, the color of intense nerves or fear.

Eligible dragons for the Reaping are always in front and all the spectators, like our guardians, reside in the back of the crowds, still organized by tribe.

No other dragon except RainWings are able to change color, but all my friends look like they have that ability based on the whitish-greenish paler color they are taking on.

Our guardians, being the good-hearted dragons that they are, escort us to our different tribal groups. Kestrel takes Starflight, Dune takes Sunny and Clay, and Webs takes Tsunami and I. We split off, but not without giving a few gestures of affection. I allow hugs, and for the first time in a while, I'm not uncomfortable by the feeling that rushes through my body.

Webs, Tsunami, and I weave our way through the growing crowds to get to the RainWing sector of the Reaping. When we do, we have to navigate our way to the front, because I'm more of a younger contender for the Reaping, and the younger ones go in the front.

After I'm situated, Tsunami and Webs give me quick good-byes before they both head off to the SeaWing sector. I look around. The Reaping occurs in this exact location annually. I've gotten pretty used to it by now, but the feeling of fear always makes me tremble. I hate being alone, without anyone I know around me.

There are gaps in between each tribal sector that could fit two dragons wide. The area is very large and they televise the games in this very spot. Many people camp out here because there's very few other ways to access the games on television.

We have a televising device in our caves, because our guardians don't trust us to camp out here for a month. But oftentimes, we don't even watch the games because we don't like their gruesome quality. So I don't really actually know how it works. And I'd prefer never to find out.

When only a few stragglers are taking their places in the organized sectors, the MC dragon, a limping, barbless SandWing named Gecko, stumbles up to the podium elevated a bit over our heads.

I can see pretty well from where I'm standing. My nerves come in a whole new wave, fresh as the mangoes from the rainforest.

I rub my talons together, my breath quickening. He hasn't even started the ceremony and I'm already panicking. This is not good.

Gecko clears his throat into the very well-projected microphone, and begins. "Welcome, my fellow dragons, to the Reaping of the 149th annual Shadow Games!" Cheer breaks out around me, although I don't know why people are cheering. This is serious stuff. Each tribe, by the end of this month, will be down two members because of some stupid games for the entertainment of others.

"As you all know by now, each tribe will sacrifice two members, one male and one female, for this year's Shadow Games. I will choose which two from the glass balls designated to that tribe." There are two glass Reaping balls per tribe, one for boys and one for girls. So in total, there are fourteen Reaping balls to choose from, resulting in fourteen tributes being sent to the arena of the Shadow Games.

"Now, the order goes as follows: We'll start with MudWings, then SandWings, then SkyWings, then SeaWings, then RainWings, then IceWings, and last but not least, NightWings. Everyone understand?" There's an audible "yes" from the crowd. Something about this MC aggravates me. It must be the way he delivers his annual Reaping speech.

"Now, time to get on with the Reaping, shall we?" Gecko walks up to the MudWing Reaping balls. I see so many little slips of paper. One of those names is Clay's. I shut my eyes, nervous for the eldest of my friends. He's like a brother to me. He is a brother to me. Let it not be him. Let it not be sweet, friendly, kind, funny, constantly hungry Clay.

Gecko sticks his hand into the glass ball, digs around for a bit, and pulls out a folded slip of paper. Not Clay's, not Clay's. That's all I can think of. I bow my head and stare at the floor, mind going numb with fear.

Gecko clears his throat. "The MudWing male tribute of this year is…" I shut my eyes. I don't look up. I can't look up.

"Rush of the MudWings!" I release the breath I was desperately holding onto. It's not Clay. Clay is safe.

A scrawny, frightened MudWing around the age of four scuttles out of his place in the Reaping and walks onto the stage, shaking with fear. I feel pity for this little dude. He looks too young to be reaped. But my heart won't stop pounding with relief that it wasn't my beloved brother.

The girl MudWing is announced next. Some dragon named Typha. She's big, looks to be on the older side, and looks ready to fight. I'm intimidated, seeing her tower over little Rush and seeing him cower under her height and bulk.

My heart restarts the same nervous cycle it did for Clay. Okay, nervous is an underestimation. I'm scared for Sunny. SandWings are next. I don't even hear them call the boy tribute, but the girl is loud and clear. And it's not Sunny. Whew.

Next is the SkyWings, which I don't particularly care about. Both look scrawny and scared, but SkyWings have never been my favorite tribal breed.

SeaWings is next. I'm praying that Tsunami isn't the female tribute of the SeaWings. And she isn't. It's someone named Manatee. I don't catch the name of the male tribute, but both of them look rather plump compared to the shivering, stick-like figures of the SkyWing tributes.

It's finally time for the RainWings. I just want to get this over with. The fear of my own self being called is less strong than that of my friends. I wonder why. The male tribute's name is Mushroom. I try not to snort at the name.

Then he calls the female tribute. As always, I hang my head, squeezing my eyes shut, willing it not to be me.

He opens his mouth. He leans into the microphone. He calls out the name. "The RainWing female tribute of this year is…" My eyes are glued shut. All I can hear is Gecko's booming voice and the slight whistle of air around me. No one is moving as always. No one wants to know.

"Glory of the RainWings!"


Thank you guys for reading! Sorry, I haven't updated in like forever, but I'm finally back into writing fanfiction. Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Sorry for the cliffy, you guys are just going to have to tune in to see what happens next. I appreciate all forms of support: reviews, favorites, follows, or just plain reads. Thank you guys for reading once again. Hopefully more will be up soon. Stay tuned for the next chapter.

Ducky :)