Chapter 2: A New Friend

Thirwyn woke with a start. It was like lightning had hit him and shocked him awake. The spines on his neck stood straight at the shock. Adrenaline surged through him as he frantically surveyed the den only to see the den of dragons sleeping peacefully. The glowing red stone in the middle was dimmed low enough so the dragons could sleep, though it was still bright enough to keep the young hatchlings and nestlings' fears away. Thirwyn had his own nest now. It was smaller than the one he had shared with his father when he was only a nestling. This one was made for a young dragon in a corner with more small nests.

Thirwyn shook his head to ward off the shock. The spikes flattened slightly. The sense of danger had been so real to him to wake him from his sleep. He hadn't even been dreaming. He was thinking of nothing, and then he heard the words: Don't turn around. Don't turn around. There was a sense of dread and fear that filled the words, like a warning of danger that he needed to address.

Thirwyn had grown to be much more than a nestling over the ten years. The shape of his head had become more of a trapezoid than an oval as it was when he was a younger. His green scales took on a new brightness. The ram horns were more prominent on his head, though they were still growing in. The spikes on his back had fully developed and would rise and flatten in accordance with his moods. His claws were sharper, more dangerous, and better adequate to slice. The muscles in his legs, though they were also still developing, were more defined. He had long since learned to breathe fire (a trait dragons learn as nestlings) and could now control it. The most important growth however was his wings. They were now just the size to carry him in flight. He had heard Leah talking it over with Miren and Arithoth. They would soon be taken out to fly.

Tiredon of course was only too eager to take to the skies. Cadmon seemed more fascinated by the idea and often talked to Thirwyn about his thoughts about it. Thirwyn was the only fledgling that didn't seem to care about much about flying. Few things seemed to pique his interest. When he breathed fire, he just listened to his father and tried not to set anyone on fire. When the older dragons commented on how his horns were growing in, he would just nod a thanks and move on.

Thirwyn looked up to see Cadmon staring at him from his nest. His silver eyes looked at Thirwyn curiously. Like Thirwyn, Cadmon had also become more dragon-like in the last ten years. He retained his onyx scales. He grew to be more slender and smaller than Thirwyn. If ever in a fight he would be better off evading the enemy rather than facing them head on, though he was still larger than a horse and had the spikes and horns to scare off any human.

“You all right, brother?” Cadmon asked.

Thirwyn nodded, still a bit shaken. “Yeah. I'm fine.”

“You sure? You looked like something was going to kill you right there. Your spikes stuck up and everything.”

“Just a bit of irrationality. The usual. I'm fine.”

“A nightmare?” Cadmon asked in astonishment.

Thirwyn shot him a look. “You know I don't dream anymore.”

“I know. I was just curious if you started again.”

“No. I didn't dream anything. It was more of a... I don't know. More of a feeling. A thought.”

“But not a dream?”

“No. Stop asking about it.” Thirwyn changed the subject. “You sleep at all?”

Cadmon shook his head. “I can't. My head's too full of ideas about flight.”

“You sound excited.”

“No so much excited as fascinated. The sky will be our new ground.”

“You know what it's like to fly. You rode on Ledah's back on the way here.”

Cadmon nodded. “I know. But still, it'll be so much different doing it yourself. You make the calls. You work your wings, and you determine your altitude. It's scary but still fascinating. I can't help but imagine what it'll be like here.”

Thirwyn nodded. “It should be interesting.”

“Yet, you are not taken at all by the idea.”

“I'm just not that excited about it.”

“Thirwyn, brother, I'm usually the indifferent one around here, and even I show some interest in this subject.”

“Why do you?” Thirwyn asked. What Cadmon said was true. Cadmon rarely took any interest a subject. He only took an interest in Thirwyn because Thirwyn was the first to befriend Cadmon as a hatchling.

“I don't know. I guess the idea of flying off or escaping into an open sky appeals to me. It provokes thought.”

Thirwyn gave a grunt as a show of accepting the comment. “It's something a dragon must learn to do I guess.”

Cadmon looked at Thirwyn curiously. “You really aren't that enthusiastic about it, are you, brother?”

“Not really,” Thirwyn yawned. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“What?”

“Brother.”

Cadmon shrugged. “Because.”

“Tiredon is closer to your brother than I am.”

Cadmon grimaced. “No he's not.”

Thirwyn sighed. “You right, but I wish it was different.”

“When I first came to this clan you were the one who treated me like a brother. Tiredon did not. Do you regret doing so?”

“Never. But you should at least try to accept Tiredon as your brother, for Ledah's sake. At least he didn't kill you as a hatchling,” Thirwyn said with a smile.

Cadmon smiled as well, happy to get a bit of humor out of his friend. Thirwyn was usually as uninterested as Cadmon was. Only Cadmon took an interest in something that he thought important. For instance, when he started breathing fire, his mother had to take him to an island on the lake nearby because he wouldn't stop shooting fireballs. Thirwyn however, rarely had a passion for anything. He only ever concerned himself with the well being of others. Over the years, Thirwyn had defended Cadmon furiously when the other nestlings and fledglings would pick on him.

But there was still part of Cadmon that remembered what Thirwyn was like before they came to the den. Even after his mom had died, Thirwyn still had shown enthusiasm in almost everything. Now Cadmon's friend was almost always serious. It was rare to ever see Thirwyn smile or laugh genuinely, but it was always great for Cadmon to see Thirwyn do so.

Cadmon looked over at the small nest next to him and grimaced. It was empty. “Speaking of my beloved brother...” he said the word sarcastically that time.

Thirwyn voiced Cadmon's thoughts. “Tiredon gone again?”

Cadmon nodded.

“Probably out hunting,” Thirwyn suggested.

Cadmon growled softly. “He shouldn't be taking off like this. He's worrying our mother.”

“You know what Leah says. Let fledglings be fledglings.”

“I still don't like it. I always get such an awful feeling when I see that nest empty.”

Thirwyn did a dragon's version of a shrug. “If you want to try talking to him about it, go ahead. Though I doubt he'll listen.”

“I know,” Cadmon growled.

Thirwyn curled up tucking his head under his wing. “I'm still tired. I'm going to sleep. Night.”

“You and I both know you aren't going to sleep.”

“Night, Cadmon.”

“Good night, brother.” And then Cadmon, too, curled up, and, like Thirwyn, waited through a sleepless night.

Chapter 1: A silent Death (cont.)

It had been ten years since Leah had opened the underground den to the Arithoth's clan of dragons. Over those years they had opened the den to a few other nomad dragon families needing a place to settle down. All the while, Leah was beginning to change herself. Her hair had completely grayed. The wrinkles on her face had deepened and increased in number. Her gray eyes, however, remained as alert and bright with knowledge as they had ten years before.

She sat at her desk staring out into Grenvale woods. Her house was not far from the secret den in case any of the dragons required her assistance. In her hand was a feathered quill Ledah's adopted son Cadmon had given Leah when the dragon was a nestling. Leah, Drolin, and Miren had taken the young nestlings outside in the forest. It took months for the dragon parents to finally trust Leah. It's not that they didn't like humans. Humans just didn't like dragons, and killing a nestling was easy. After helping the fledglings learn to fly, overseeing a clutch of eggs hatch, and administer to every dragon wound, the nestling's parents had finally allowed her to take the young ones on a long anticipated trip to the woods while the parents went fishing...

“Cadmon, what do you have there?” Leah had asked the black nestling.

Cadmon's silver eyes had been glued to a single black crow feather. He had looked at it with great intensity, occasionally putting his small foot next to it, comparing the scales to the feather. Cadmon, out of all the dragons in the clan, was the only black dragon there was. He had no parents. Before the clan had moved, Ledah had adopted Cadmon when he was a month old hatchling. Her son Tiredon was around the same age as Cadmon, and she thought it might be good for Tiredon to have a brother his age.

Cadmon had looked up Leah and said, “I don't know. But looks it like me.”

Leah had laughed. “No it doesn't. Well, it's a black feather. But you don't look like a feather.”

“What's a feather?”

“A feather is what birds use to fly.”

“Do dragons use feathers?”

“No!” She had stretched out Cadmon's webbed wing. At first Cadmon had recoiled and acted apprehensive to her touch, but eventually he had given in. “This is what dragons use to fly.”

Cadmon had looked at his wing curiously then at the feather. “How does that make them fly?”

“Well, you see they grow it on their wings.”

Cadmon had looked very hard at the feather, as if trying to imagine on a bird. “Will it make you fly?”

Leah had laughed. “No. I don't think so.”

Cadmon had swept it over her with his tail. “Maybe it will! Keep it.”

Ever since then, Leah had used it to write in her journal:

Dear Student,

 Today, has been ordinary for the most part. The nestlings of ten years ago (when I first sheltered this clan) are just around the age to begin flying. There are eight that seem to be ready to fly. Out of them are the three nestling I have taken an interest in: Thirwyn, Cadmon, and Tiredon.

I've been somewhat worried about Tiredon as of late. I too often see him sneaking out of the den or hear him come up with some excuse to leave. His attitude has become proud and arrogant (though I should not be alarmed; nestlings do have a tendency to develop such qualities and grow into them as fledglings; he should grow out of it). It is however the sneaking off that has piqued my worries. He goes out more often than fledglings should. Though there have not been any problems with it, I still get feelings of unease.

Then there is Cadmon, Tiredon's brother. He has grown to be the opposite of Tiredon. I swear the only thing those two share is the same eye color. While Tiredon enjoys and draws attention to himself, Cadmon has preferred to be more antisocial than dragons usually are. He does, however, keep a close friendship with Thirwyn. I have seen the two together almost all the time since they arrived at the den. I have often heard him call Thirwyn 'brother' though he will only call Tiredon by his name. It is not that he is unkind or particularly malicious. He is simply detached and uninterested in dragons other than Thirwyn. Poor Ledah has had such difficulty coaxing him to participate in the traditional celebrations. Once she just gave up and let him stay in the nest. Thirwyn of course joined him in the den after the primary rites of the festivities had been commenced.

Thirwyn, of course, has always fascinated me. His poor father Arithoth led the clan to the den after having lost his mate. I have so often prayed for him. He continually frets over his only son. Once as a nestling, Thirwyn caught a minor case of the Nest Bug, and (dear me!) I swear Arithoth thought Thirwyn was going to die. It hasn't helped Arithoth that Thirwyn has been sullen and depressed. Of course he has grown out of it over the ten years, but still he seems to be missing some of that dragon spirit. It isn't like Cadmon. Cadmon almost rebels in his lack of compliance. Thirwyn will conform to anything with little enthusiasm and little fight. When he does fight, it is more of a fit of irrationality, where he will have a sudden moment of anger and then it will vanish. His moods will fluctuate at moments, but for the most part he is dispassionate. He refuses to sleep. He will lie down in his nest, but I have often seen him wide awake in the middle of the night. I fear sometimes that his mother's death has scarred him too deeply. However I also think there's more to it than Arithoth or I know. I still consider what Drolin told me about Thirwyn's behavior on the way to the den. He had simply woken up depressed. Maybe it was a dream about his mother, but how would that explain his words: “Why is she mad? I didn't do anything.”? I often entertained the possibility that it was his mother who was mad and that he thinks she blames him for her death. But then Drolin mentioned how Arithoth told him that Thirwyn said he met someone in his dream. Poor thing was embarrassed to silence and refused to tell his father anything more. But I keep getting the notion that that single fact alludes to something else. As much as I try to delve deeper, I cannot find a fitting answer to this phenomenon. Yet, I know it's lingering somewhere as something so obvious that I can't reach it. I know Cadmon knows something relating to Thirwyn's attitude. However he refuses to speak on the matter every time I allude to it.

Despite these blocks in my knowledge, I am confident that between me, Drolin, and Miren, we will find some explanation to this. It's in my bag of knowledge; I just have to pull it out.

Leah rubbed at her temples. She was so sure that there was something dire she was missing with Thirwyn. Miren and Drolin had concurred with her notion. Miren had been observing Thirwyn just after his mother's death on the way to the den. He had seemed depressed, but in the month of travel he had allowed himself to be coaxed out of his depression. He had slept more often then. The sudden switch in moods had happened just before arriving at the den. This increased Leah's suspicions.

She saw Drolin leap in through the window. His brown fur shimmered in the candle light. She smiled. “Out for another nighttime walk?” she asked.

Drolin licked his paw in a very catlike way. “You could say that. I spent more time on a roof however. I must say. Humans think very little of cats. To believe I would think about nothing else than big mice and lady cats. hmph!”

“Cats don't usually have your intellect. You're unique. Also there was that time when you were quite fond of the bakers' cat.”

Drolin rolled his eyes. “I thought she might have some sort of potential knowledge. I have a weakness for white fur. What can I say?”

Leah laughed.

Drolin sighed. “Being such a brilliant intellectual trapped in a cat's body is so depriving. I mean it was only yesterday that I was casually walking past the bakers' shop when the man chucks a rock and tells me to 'Scram! Mutt!' First of all, even if I was a primitive cat, I wouldn't be a mutt because that is a dog! Second I wasn't even stealing any of his goods; I was simply walking by to...”

Leah felt the cold terror numb all her senses. The last thing she heard was Drolin's panicked cry. “Leah!”

Leah's consciousness was pulled into another body. It was a girl's body, around thirteen years old. She was lying comfortably in a cot, looking up at the ceiling with the covers pulled around her. The blanket was merely sack-cloth, but it still provided some warmth from the cold. Everything was silent. There was no wind, no breathing, no creaks...just silence.

Then she felt something being shoved down her throat! It was like a snake crawling into her mouth and down her esophagus. She tried to scream, but the thing had paralyzed her and muffled her throat. She was forced to silence, forced to live this real nightmare alone. It was frightening at first, but then it became painful. She had involuntarily swallowed the thing completely. She had tried to breathe, tried to yell, tried to scream, but she could not.

Then she felt its teeth. She felt sharp pain as its razor sharp knives sliced into her organs. She suffered as the razors ripped open her stomach, burst through her skin, tore out her throat, eat her alive. There was nothing but pain. Pain so consuming she wanted to scream just to relieve it. But she couldn't. She was forced to silence. It was like her voice was trapped in a metal box filled with one thousand bolts of lightning. It hurt so much, she wanted to let her voice out to express her pain, but it was trapped in that painful metal box.

Finally when she felt herself slipping away, she felt the beast’s mouth at her chest, as it plunged down into it and ate her heart. And still everything was silent.

Leah clutched the desk for support as she lurched out of the vision. Drolin was at her side, licking her hand to help her back into reality. She was trembling. Her breathing was irregular and shallow. “I am getting far too old for this,” she said, half to herself.

Drolin climbed on to her shoulders and began licking her face. She stroked Drolin's fur. The softness under her fingers helped her get a grip her surroundings.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Drolin asked.

“I don't think I have much of a choice. I must.”

“You can wait until you have a better grip on things.”

“No. I must do it now, while it is still fresh in my head.”

Drolin sat patiently on the desk as Leah told him what she felt, what she saw, and what she heard in her vision. Drolin looked at her with patient pale green eyes as Leah retold her vision, repeating every detail she could remember. Finally when she was finished, she took out a large book from a drawer in her desk. It was more like a journal then a book. It had a large, thick leather cover. The parchment inside was bound in it by rings of twine. The book was thick with notes stuffed between the pages and aged with the many years gone by. Leah had made the book herself when she was a budding wizard, just freed from a witch's grasp.

Now, she flipped through the pages frantically, searching for a specific page.

Drolin noticed this. “You think you have seen it before?”

“I know I have seen it before, but it was long ago. One of my first visions actually.”

Drolin looked over her shoulder and watched as she flipped to the desired page. “Oh I remember this one,” he said. “You could never really find the murderer for that vision. You think it’s related to this one?”

“Yes. Look. I got the same feeling of something coming down my throat in this vision.” She pointed to the line. “And then I felt like I was being eaten alive.” She pointed to another line.

Drolin looked suspiciously at the page. “Yes that is true, but those murders haven't occurred for over fifty years. Why would the killer resume now?”

Leah shrugged. “I don't know. I think I'll consult Miren on the matter. At the very least, he can warn the dragons.”

Drolin nodded. “Good idea. I suppose you will do your best to try to catch this culprit?”

Leah nodded. “Of course. I have been given this gift for a reason. What a waste it would be if I didn't use it!”

“I still can't believe how you can still call that a gift. I remember how much those visions terrified you as a child.”

Leah smiled kindly at the cat. “We are all given something to contribute to the world. It is a light that we must distribute. Sometimes it is a light that burns, but I will use mine to its fullest extent.”

“Just be careful, please. This sounds dangerous.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it always is.”

*                                                                           *                                                              *

This is definitely not that-time-of-the-month scenario, Amy thought as she swept. The sheets were almost completely red with blood, yet there were no signs of a body. There weren't any stains on the floor to indicate the body had been dragged off. The cot was just bloody with no body. The window had been open however, indicating the killer had gone through that way.

Donna, cruel as she was, made the girls in the orphanage work. Amy was busy sweeping the large bedroom where everyone slept. All hell had broken loose when the girls woke up. All eyes had gone to the cot, and everyone had run out screaming to Donna. Amy had been the calmest of them all, mostly because she had been staring at the scene in shock for an hour before everyone woke up. With all the commotion the girls had made, the whole town knew about the disappearance and had started coming up with possibilities like witches, demons, ghosts, disease, and so on. Donna had been furious with the girls who blabbed and screamed to the town. Amy see. Since that morning, there were dozens of people knocking on the door begging to see the scene of the crime and promising Donna they would find the murderer if she paid them. Good luck with that, Amy thought. Donna was just about as cheap as dirt and would never even consider surrendering a coin for this cause. Amy however already knew what did it: dragons.

Amy practically ground the broom into the floor as she thought the word. Dragons! She see it the evidence. The window was open, so a dragon's head could probably snake through and eat Marcel, leaving the cot bloody and empty.

It seemed so clear in her mind. A dragon had killed her parents. It seems logical that one would not pause to kill Marcel. That fury grew in Amy once more, consuming her and overwhelming her mind and sight. What she wouldn't give to kill a dragon at that moment! Not even a lizard was safe from her that moment! If only she could just...

Snap!

Good God! Amy thought as she looked down at the two halves of the broom in her hands, broken by her fury. Donna will throw a fit. Amy liked that. Amy did hate the world, but there was no human she hated more than Donna. Since day one at the orphanage, Amy and Donna had done everything to make each miserable. Donna had charged Amy with pointless jobs, while Amy did everything she could to make those jobs go wrong. That of course got her into even more trouble, but if Donna got angry, Amy wouldn't stop. This broom in two pieces might just brighten her day.

She strolled out of the room, her fury diffused with the joyful opportunity to make Donna's day worse. Amy knew Donna didn't really care about Marcel. She was only angry that the curious townspeople kept knocking on her door. Throw two pieces of a broom into it, and Donna might just lose it. Perfect, Amy thought.

She walked confidently to Donna's door and knocked.

“If it's one of you Godforsaken rats looking for reward money, I'll give you my boot and shove it down your throat!” she roared.

“It's me, Donna,” Amy said pleasantly. Amy had no need to give her name; Donna always knew when Amy was at the door.

“What do you want?”

“I can't sweep.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Open the door and see.”

Donna opened the door. Donna was a stout woman (or fat as Amy called her). She had blond shoulder-length hair that was neither straight nor curly but somewhere in the middle. Amy loved to make note of the mole on her upper lip and the slight unibrow Donna had growing. Her pale blue eyes were like ice to the soul when she looked at anyone, but Amy got over that when she started secretly calling her “Snow Hag.” She often had a red weasel draped around her neck. The weasel always gave Amy the chills. At first someone would think it was dead, but then suddenly in the middle of a conversation, its head would flick up suddenly and stare straight at you with intent black eyes.

Donna's icy eyes darted to the snapped broom. “Of course,” she said, her voice barely containing her fury, “And what brought this on? Hmmm?”

“I don't know. I was just sweeping and it broke. Must be a cheap broom. How much was it?”

Amy could see Donna's face turning purple and nearly laughed. “Fix it,” she said.

“Why not buy a new one?”

“Because that one is perfectly fine.”

“Looks like it's in two pieces to me.”

“JUST FIX THE DAMN BROOM!”

“Yes, Misses! Whoops! I mean, Miss. You're not married yet.”

Donna exploded. “GET OUT OF MY FACE YOU DAMN RAT!”

“Leaving!” Amy said pleasantly with a wave as she hurried back to the door.

“And clean those Godawful sheets that are causing us so much trouble!” she snapped.

She stiffened. Great, Amy thought, Stuck with the dirty job. Though she knew Donna would give it to her anyway.

“You shouldn't antagonize her. Especially not on a day like this,” Amy heard Bethany say from the kitchen as Amy walked by. Bethany looked at her with reproachful blue eyes. Donna had assigned Bethany to cook with Rebecca.

Amy rolled her eyes at Bethany's comment. “Now is the best time to bug her.”

Bethany groaned. “After there's been a death in the orphanage? For crying out loud, Amy! The woman's probably under a lot of stress right now. Not to mention the grief or horror she's feeling.”

“Hate to tell you this, Beth, but I'm pretty sure that Donna doesn't give a damn about any of us. Is she under a lot of stress? I'm sure she is. Probably worried about how to get all these people off her doorstep begging for reward money. Hell! She’s probably thinking about how to save herself when the next attack comes. She doesn't care. And that's never going to change.”

“I don't believe that.”

“Have you seen her do anything to find out what happened to Marcel?”

“No, I haven't. And maybe she doesn't care, but I don't believe that won't change.”

“Yes, because 'nothing stays the same.' I've heard it before.”

“It's true.”

Amy rolled her eyes in annoyance at Bethany. “I got to go clean some sheets and fix a broom.” And she walked back to the room.

“Amy! Please be careful about what you say about Marcel. Some people actually did care about her.”

Amy stopped. Her fury glowed a bit, but then she silenced it. This was Bethany talking. She wouldn't say anything to purposely hurt Amy. But Amy thought it would be best to correct her anyway. She spun to look at Bethany. “I take it you are under the impression that I don't care that Marcel died. I do care. But death happens. We're in this hell hole because of death. I've learned to accept it and acknowledge it. I wish Marcel didn't die or disappear, but then I wished that my parents didn't die, but that's what happens. You don't get your wish in reality. Fate just does whatever the hell it wants.” She walked away.

Bethany sighed. “Great going, Beth,” she told herself and then resumed working.

Amy walked back into the room. Her fury was still glowing slightly, but she did her best to press it down. Amy knew people thought she was careless, selfish, and didn't give a damn. Sometimes she didn't, but she couldn't help looking at Marcel's cot and feel a sense of emptiness and loss. She didn't really talk to Marcel much, but there was this unacknowledged kinship between them. Both had lived in Grestling forever, and both had strove to survive in the orphanage. Marcel’s death made Amy feel alone. The pain of it nearly ripped Amy to shreds.

And that made her fury burn for dragon blood.

Amy grimaced, snatching the pillow, sack cloth, and a bucket on the way out. She held her breath to keep from breathing in the over excessive scent of blood and marched out the back of the orphanage to the well to wash the blood out. At the well she filled bucket and began cleaning the pathetic bedding. The smell of death was so strong, as she poured water over it. She buckled over at the stench. This is the last bit of Marcel we have, Amy thought, looking at the running red water. This is the closest thing to her on earth that we know of. She groaned and fell to her knees. Marcel was the only one in the orphanage who could come close to understanding Amy. They never even spoke to one another, but that was an understanding in and of itself. There was one rule Amy held above all in survival: Never invest yourself. Marcel had understood that rule too. To invest yourself was to love, to care, to show affection. But investing any part of yourself into anything on this earth was dangerous. People were fragile. Animals were fragile. Death could take them away easily. Amy didn't know until now how much she had invested in Marcel, but she knew it was too much. Shad broken her rule. And now she paid for it with Marcel's death.

Chapter 1: A Silent Death

She couldn't see through the smoke no matter how hard she batted at it with her hands. Where were they? They needed to leave! The house was burning down! She cried out to them. Soon she heard their cries and sobs. Her feet fell hard against the floor as she forced herself faster. She could save them! She could save them! She just needed to...

And like always she reached the room in time to see her parents thrown into the flames.

Amy surged upright. The terror from her nightmare pumped her with adrenaline. She clung to her sack-cloth blanket for stability, as she tightened her grip on reality. She looked around to see the rest of the inhabitants of Grestling Town Orphanage sleeping soundly.

The orphanage wasn't of much help to the children in any town you went to. They were only there because the king had decreed it, due to the fact his wife had complained so often of the poor abandoned children. Amy's personal bitterness told her that he'd just done it to get the queen out of his hair.

Amy violently shook her head to remove the scene from her mind. It was rare that she ever got a good night's sleep with such a reoccurring dream. There were very few changes to it. Sometimes she would jump into the fire with her parents. Other times she saw the dragon eat her parents after they'd been burned. But the worse was when the dragon revealed itself as one with green scales and yellow eyes, a variation of her imagination she knew was false.

She clawed at her skull. No! She did not want to think about that right now! She groaned. There was only one place she liked to go that always cleared her head. She hopped out of her cot. She didn't bother to put on any shoes or socks for her feet. The cold bare floor helped drag her back to reality.

This wasn't a rare thing for Amy to do. In fact, she had snuck out more often now then she had previously. Her first few months at the orphanage served as absolute hell for Amy. Usually you got an orphan whose parents died from some disease, murder, or freak accident. And of course Amy's parents had to be killed by dragon. For months there had been all sorts of knights or knights-in-training asking Amy about the awful accident, when all Amy really wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay there. Every person who visited Amy pledged that they would kill the dragon and avenge her parents. Amy didn't want them to do that.

She wanted to kill the thing herself. That dragon and every other dragon she met.

It was a vendetta that brought a fire from her loss, one that sewed her broken self together, creating a bitter, vengeful Amy.

She crept through the room of sleeping bodies. She had done this enough to be silent while walking across the room.

Though she never ceased to wake one person up...

“You going out again?” she heard someone whisper from behind her.

Amy turned to see Bethany upright in her cot. Even in the dark, Amy could see Bethany's red curls fall in disarray around her face. Bethany was the one of the most compassionate orphans. Her parents had disappeared mysteriously when Bethany was ten. They were never found, therefore assumed dead. She came to the orphanage when Amy was eight, two years after Amy's parents had died. Unlike Amy, she cared about the other children and did everything she could to make their lives easier. There were families who fell in love with her kind attitude that sought to adopt her. Unselfishly (or stupidly as Amy thought) she begged them to let her stay. It was something that always confused and frustrated Amy. This place was hell. The food was awful, the people were awful, the conditions were awful, and the caretaker, Donna, was the most awful. It had only frustrated Amy more when Bethany became fond of her, seeking every opportunity to talk to Amy, give to Amy, catch her when she was sneaking out, and cover for her when she had been caught. Such kindness annoyed Amy at first, but then she became accustomed to Bethany and accepted her as the only friend she had in the orphanage.

Amy nodded wordlessly at Bethany's question.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bethany asked.

Amy shook her head.

Bethany sighed. “All right. I'll cover for you in the morning.”

Amy shrugged and crept out of the room.

She slyly slide her way through the halls, silently tiptoed up the stairs, and cautiously opened the roof trap door. She pulled herself through the hatch and climbed up on to the roof. She had built this contraption herself when she was ten. She had often scaled the wall when seven to get to the roof. There was a strong rain storm, and Donna had charged Amy with the job of fixing the roof. For being only a decade old, Amy proved to be skillful with a hammer and nail and had fixed a trapdoor in one of the roof holes, so she could access the roof more easily.

Six years later, Amy still used the trapdoor for a place to escape to after her usual nightmares. Bethany was the only other person who knew about this. Her fondness for Amy eventually led her to the roof. Fortunately, Amy only needed to say, “Leave” for Bethany to understand that this place was Amy's place, and her place alone.

The cold air awakened her senses. She looked up at the stars. They sat in the sky like holes in a black blanket blocking the sunlight. She counted them, connected them into shapes. She looked at the town of Grestling below her. The tops of the houses in Grestling fascinated her. Though she had been looking at the town for sixteen years, it still interested her to see it from above. She could almost pretend that she was outside it all, outside the misery and pretend that she was merely looking at it from the outside.

She let herself pretend, letting herself, even if only for a few moments, be the observer, not the victim. What a pathetic town! she thought. She recalled what Bethany always said to her: Everything can change. Everything can be redeemed. They just need a light.

Amy laughed to herself. What a lie! Grestling was a place of thieves, murderers, betrayers, and vagabonds. No one paid heed to the king's law. It was a selfish town. Bethany was just a rare exception. Her thoughts drifted to her dreams as a young girl. She still remembered them. They were far too vivid to forget. She remembered the green dragon nestling with yellow eyes. She remembered how he had told her about the race of dragons and how they protected the humans.

She also remembered how it was a lie!

She remembered too how it had been a dragon to attack and kill her parents! How it was a dragon to destroy their home!

And the nestling didn't even warn her!

A burning fury boiled in Amy. Her hand went to her head, and she ripped at her hair, using pain to block out the memories. She didn't want to think about that right now! She concentrated on breathing, letting that focus seize her full attention.

Finally Amy felt her fury dim, and let herself fall backward against the roof. The coolness of it was strangely reassuring to her. It kept her in reality, away from the dark thoughts of her past. She closed her eyes letting her sense of touch take over. She explored the rough texture of each roof tile with her fingers. She noted the edges, and pressed her fingers against the corners. She brushed over all the imperfections. She noticed the damp mist kiss her cheeks.

A pigeon flew over head. It landed on a rooftop in Amy's view. Animals were always so interesting to Amy. They were so different from humans sometimes, yet so the same. It was always compare and contrast with them. Bears were one example. Mothers of both species cared for their young, but the bear defended her cubs herself, and the human depended on town law enforcement. Both had homes, but humans were social, living near other humans, and the bears were solitary.

Both species had orphans, but the bears actually adopted orphaned cubs, and the humans put theirs into these hell holes called orphanages, Amy thought bitterly.

She felt something soft begin to rub against her arm. She sat up with a start.

The culprit was a cat with brown and white fur and pale green eyes. It purred as it rubbed against Amy's forearm, begging to be petted. Amy laughed. “It's been a while since I've seen you up here,” she said, itching the cat behind the ear. “Thought you grew bored of me. That or you got eaten by a dog.”

The cat shot Amy an unamused look.

Amy laughed again. “You know. It's almost like you know what I'm saying.”

The cat seemed to roll his eyes and nudged Amy's hand for more pets. Amy complied. “Such a curious cat you are. Hmmm... maybe that's why I haven't kicked you off my roof yet. You're too fascinating.”

The cat meowed in response and curled up on Amy's lap. Amy began to stroke him absently and watching the horizon. “Can't sleep again. Same as usual.” She sighed. “Same memories. Same nightmares. Same damn place I'm usually in. Of course, not like you care. You're probably thinking about that mouse you ate today. Or maybe a lady cat you got your eye on,” she said slyly, wagging her eyebrows.

Amy saw one of the cat's ears flick as a reply.

Amy shrugged. “But what do I know? I can barely get my own thoughts straight. Let alone guess someone else's.”

The cat snorted, almost sarcastically.

She sat there with the cat on her lap for a long time. Her thoughts dwindled into nothing and soon there was just peace. Peace on a rooftop. The cat eventually hopped out of Amy's lap and jumped down gracefully to the ground before it ran off into the night.

A couple hours passed before Amy's thoughts began to take form again. There was a nagging thought, the one at the back of Amy's head that kept her alive. Don't turn around! Don't turn around! Amy felt an awful and eerie presence at her back. Her instinct was of course to turn around and face it, but like always, Amy clung to that survival voice in her head telling her to not turn around. She waited and waited. She clenched her fists to keep her head straight and control her fears.

Finally it passed, as silently as it came.

What the hell! she thought. She dared to turn around. There was nothing. She shivered involuntarily. She decided it was probably best to go inside right now. She stayed on the roof for a few minutes longer, admiring the scene below. The sky had become paler now, indicating the coming morning.

Amy got up from her spot, stretched, and crept back through her trapdoor, down the stairs, through the hallway, and back into her cot. She closed her eyes to at least pretend she was asleep, but something kept on bugging her. There was something wrong about this place when she entered. Instinct told her to open her eyes and scan the room. She did. She found Marcel's cot, the cot next to hers, empty...

And the sheets were drenched with blood.

Prologue: Dreams to Nightmares (cont. II)

Arithoth continued through the forest, following Drolin's instructions. The rest of the clan trailed behind wordlessly. Along the way Arithoth felt Thirwyn fidget in his sleep, kicking spontaneously and twitching his tail. This was usual behavior for Thirwyn when he slept. Often he muttered in his sleep, though the words were indiscernible, even for Arithoth's keen ears, but this time Thirwyn's movements were less subtle and more desperate and violent. His muttering became whimpers and small cries. This concerned Arithoth. “Is he all right?” he asked Miren.

Miren looked over at Thirwyn. “Probably nothing, but you might want to wake him up. The young'un wants to see our new home, doesn’t he?”

Arithoth shook his head slightly to awaken the nestling. “Thirwyn. Thirwyn! Wake up! We're almost there.”

Thirwyn woke up with a start, gasping, panting and trembling so much his scales one would think his scales would fly off.

“Thirwyn? Is everything all right?” Arithoth asked.

“I didn't do anything,” Thirwyn muttered in dismay.

“What do you mean? Thirwyn, what's wrong?”

“Why is she mad? I didn't do anything.”

“Who's mad?” Arithoth asked.

But Thirwyn just curled up into a ball, lost in his cloud of unknown misery.

“Thirwyn?” Arithoth looked to Miren.

Miren looked curiously at the nestling. He seemed just as confused as Arithoth.

Drolin examined Thirwyn with extreme fascination. “Does he usually do this?”

“No,” Arithoth said.

“Does he have dreams?”

“All the time.”

“Has he told you about any of these dreams?”

“No. He usually keeps them to himself. He mentioned one, once, saying he met some human in a dream, but some of the nestlings teased him about it. He didn't mention them much after.”

“He met some human?” Drolin asked.

“That's what he said.”

Drolin went silent, lost in thought.

Arithoth was startled. “Is this bad?”

Miren assured him. “It was probably a just nightmare. Look at you! You're so nervous your scales might drop off from fright. There is nothing wrong with the young'un. Be at ease, he's a perfectly healthy little nestling.”

Arithoth sighed but smiled slightly at the older dragon’s reassurance.

“Stop here,” Drolin instructed.

Arithoth stopped at the trunk of the oak just as Drolin had instructed. “Uhhh... Drolin, what exactly are we supposed to see here?”

“Just a moment.” Drolin scaled down from Miren's head. He scramble to the base of the tree and began pulling away weeds and leaves at the mixed with the roots.

Arithoth looked at Drolin curiously. “Is this really the time for weeding?”

Then Drolin took a small rope in his teeth from underneath the debris, and tugged. There was a groan from underground and then a trap door fell revealing the entrance to an underground den between the roots of the oak.

A unified gasp of amazement came from the whole dragon clan and murmurs of barely held excitement and joy rippled through the crowd. Arithoth's eyes widened in surprise, and he tried to use this new discovery to cheer up Thirwyn. “Thirwyn! Look this is where we will live for now on! Isn't it amazing?” he said as he walked through the entrance. The nestling remained silent on his father’s head.

The inside was lit with torches as they proceeded down the earthy stairs. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they entered an enormous den big enough to fit a hundred dragons (which was more than sufficient for this clan of thirty dragons). The dirt was soft under the weary claws. The walls were decorated with blue symbols that glowed in the dirt walls. Along the walls on the ground were nests softened with the dirt and dried grass. Some nests were larger than others to accommodate both dragon individuals and families. At the very center of it all was a large glowing orange stone that shed light on every inch of the cave.

“Thirwyn! Look!” Arithoth urged,

Thirwyn made a small dispassionate sound.

“Thirwyn. Please, what is it?”

Thirwyn grumbled, “I don't want to talk about it.”

From the far corner of the cave came a very tall and wiry woman. She wore a simple white dress with a pale lavender shawl draped loosely around her shoulders. Around her neck was what looked to be a silver jewel. She wasn't young, but she wasn't exactly old. Her face had only a few wrinkles to indicate her approach to old age, and her black hair had only partially surrendered to the gray. Her smile emphasized the growing wrinkles in her face, as she held her hands out and bowed slightly before Arithoth. “Welcome, dragons. I hope you find it comfortable here.”

Arithoth unconsciously backed away and moved his head higher so Thirwyn was out of reach of the new woman. Arithoth looked in shock at the woman. “You are... human.”

“You could say that,” she answered, straightening from her bow. Drolin bounded from the dragon clan and nimbly climbed up on to the woman's shoulders. The woman smiled and stroked the cat fondly.

The adults and the fledglings, who had seen a human before and knew of their habits, stared apprehensively at the woman, waiting for her to strike at them with her human hatred for their kind. On the other hand, the newly awakened nestlings and hatchlings' eyes widened at the sight of the woman and begged for their parents to tell them what this new creature was. The parents hushed them, promising to explain the situation later.

Miren, however, was the only who saw no problem with the woman's presence. “So this is the lass you've been talking about, Drolin? I must say she is quite a sight for these weary eyes.”

The woman laughed. “You must be the flattering Miren.”

Miren bowed, extending his wings slightly, making the bow look almost gentlemanly. Most of the dragons looked completely dumbstruck at thod. The hatchlings and nestlings laughed. Miren straightened and looked to the clan. “She isn't dangerous. She's a wizard. Her family has been helping dragons for generations.”

The dragons, still too cautious to come any closer, examined the woman from a distance.

“He speaks the truth. When I sent Drolin scouting the land, he came back with stories of your clan and all the hardships you have endured. I decided to help you by making a home here. It is only a few miles from Grestling, the human town nearby. I hope you don't object.”

“Not at all,” said Arithoth, “I would rather we settled near a human town in order to keep our promise to them. We just never expected... errr... you to be here.”

“I really did not intend for it to be so much of a surprise.” The woman looked over at Miren.

Miren smiled. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

The woman sighed. “Well, this is what I prepared. I made it a bit larger than what you require; I didn't know how many exactly you were bringing. There are nests near the walls as you can see. This whole place is ensured to hold up with magic, hence the blue inscriptions on the wall. I'll have to renew it every now and then, but not too often. I couldn't exactly put a fire in here because of the smoke, but I enchanted that stone in the middle. You can dim it by tapping on it once.” She walked over to the stone and knocked on its shell once. The stone dimmed to one third its usual brightness. “And brighten it by tapping twice.” She knocked twice, and the stone returned to its original brightness. “And just press on it to turn it off, but I don’t think you guys would want to. I know you dragons like sleeping in some form of light. Hope it helps.”

“It does,” Arithoth said. “Err... What is your name?”

“Oh! Leah. Leah is fine.”

“Arithoth,” Arithoth introduced himself. “But if I ask, Leah,” his eyes dropped to her silver pendant. “Your choice of jewelry concerns me.”

Leah looked down at her necklace and smiled somberly. “As you would be concerned, but I assure, this was not taken by force. A dear friend of mine gave it to me before his passing.” Her smile disappeared and her eyes softened with sadness. “I only wish I could've done more to save him.”

Arithoth’s mouth twisted in a skeptical grimace.

Miren rolled his eyes. “Dear, Arithoth! You can't seriously be thinking the lass is against us?”

Arithoth felt ashamed of his doubts, but the evidence in front of him was too condemning.

Leah sighed. “I know it looks bad. I use magic. Drolin here is clearly an imp. And I have a dragon scale around my neck. But I assure you, there is one thing that I have that no witch would.” With that, she lifted the hem of her dress slightly to reveal a birth mark on her ankle in the shape of vortex with a line drawn through it.

Arithoth brought his head closer to see it. Miren snorted, “That's definitely the mark all right. And really, Arithoth, I have heard of wizards carrying a dragon scale. It isn't uncommon, especially now with the state of things.”

Arithoth nodded. “I'm sorry to have doubted you.”

Leah waved it off. “Do not worry about it. I understand your concern for your clan, not to mention the safety of the little one on your head,” she said, her gray eyes spotting Thirwyn.

Thirwyn was still curled into a ball on Arithoth's head. He paid no heed to Leah.

“Thirwyn, show some gratitude toward this woman,” Arithoth commanded, “She's giving us a home.”

“Thanks,” Thirwyn said curtly.

“Thirwyn,” Arithoth growled. “Please be polite.”

“I just want to sleep,” Thirwyn grumbled. He scrambled down his father's back, landing on the soft earth. He then walked straight past Leah and Drolin and crawled into one of the nests and slept a dreamless sleep.

Prologue: Dreams to Nightmares (cont.)

The older dragon continued through the woods, scanning every possible place an enemy could be. His ears perked for the slightest sound of danger. He heard one of the clan's dragons approach him. His eyes flitted to the side to see the brown ancient walk to his side. He was definitely an old dragon, undoubtedly the oldest in the clan. His scales used to be brown, but were now faded to tan and khaki colors. The wrinkles in his snout and brow were deeply defined and his brown eyes had replaced the brightness of youth with the soft glow of age.

“I see the young'un has finally had it in for the night,” the ancient said.

The father smiled. “Yes. The rain won't hurt him too much will it?”

“No. If he was alone, yes, but you generate enough heat to keep the nestling healthy.”

“I wish I could stop worrying, but that is not so easily done. He was asking about humans again today.”

“And why should that be reason to worry. We do protect humans. Why should he not ask about what he will eventually have to know?”

“Most nestlings around his age don't even know about humans.”

“Then you should be proud your son is ahead.”

“But I don't even know how he found out about humans. One day he just walked in and asked, 'Hey Dad, what's a human?'“

“He could've heard it from some other dragon. Besides, it is good that he knows about them.”

“Yes, except for the fact that he wants to see them.”

“What is the problem with that?”

“Miren, you and I may know humans hate dragons, but Thirwyn does not. He wants to meet them, talk to them, be friends with them. He does not understand that they see us as enemies.”

“Have you told him?”

“He is too young. I want him to enjoy as much of his childhood as he can. He has already had so much robbed from him. The least I can do is spare him that.”

“I don't think he is as deprived as you think he is, Arithoth” Miren said as he looked at the small nestling sleeping his father's head.

Arithoth didn't say anything. The two dragons continued to walk side-by-side. Arithoth slowed his pace down to accompany the old dragon.

“Do not slow for me.” Miren laughed. “I am old, but I can still keep pace with any young'un, including you.”

“Young'un? Do you still see me like that?” Arithoth asked with a smile.

“When you get to be my age, everyone is a young'un, young'un.”

Arithoth chuckled. His eyes fixed on a single spot in the woods. The bush shifted and twitched a bit with movement. He stopped and crouched slightly in preparation for danger. The clan saw this and followed his example. From the bushes, a cat with a bark brown back and a snow white belly walked up to the dragons. The cat's mint green eyes glowed with intelligence though his form seemed to say otherwise.

From behind Arithoth the rest of the dragons murmured with anticipation. Arithoth slightly lowered his head (being very careful not to disrupt Thirwyn) as a small nod of respect of the cat. “Drolin. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

The cat meowed in confusion, licking its paw.

Arithoth's ears twitched in surprise. “Errr... Miren, is this the cat?”

“Oh, yes it is! Stop playing with the poor boy, Drolin!”

The cat immediately looked up at Miren and Arithoth at Miren's comment. He smiled. “That trick never gets old!” he said. “Miren! Dear me, it's been a while.”

Miren smiled. “It's good to see you again, friend.”

Arithoth nodded to where Drolin just came from. “This way?” he asked.

Drolin nodded. “Not that far now, fortunately for you. I see you have had a rough set of travels.” Drolin then scaled Miren's leg, hopped on his back, ran up his long neck, and sat on his head. “I'll see it better from here. Keep going forward until you see a large oak.”

*                                                                           *                                                              *

Finally, after waiting for so long, Thirwyn felt Amy’s presence begin to break into the dream. Only, it wasn't exactly Amy's presence. Of course he knew she was going to appear in the dream, but the energy she set off was dark, terrifying, and violent.

“Amy?” Thirwyn called.

She appeared on the other side of the meadow. Thirwyn broke into a run to her. “Amy! What happened? Great scales I was so…”

She looked up, and as soon as their eyes connected, Thirwyn knew something was wrong. He stumbled to a stop. “Amy?” he called tentatively. The scene began to change. It was no longer a bright green meadow with a shining sun. Instead, the air filled with smoke that blocked out the vanilla sky; the sun dimmed to nothing; the soft grass became a hard, ash-covered, wooden floor. “Amy? What’s happening? What’s going on?” But the smoke closed in around him and concealed Amy from his sight. “Amy!” He charged forward. The only light to guide him was a flickering glow through the smoke. He heard Amy scream. He sped toward the sound, calling out her name. “Amy!” he called. “Amy! Where are you?”

What is this? he thought. The dreams weren't usually like this. Sometimes either he or Amy would have a nightmare, but there was always the other to fight it off. But this felt more real than a nightmare. The terror wasn’t easily broken; it felt as thick and powerful as it infect the air around him.

“Mom! Dad!” Thirwyn heard Amy cry.

Thirwyn heard other screams, different from Amy's. There was sobbing, begging, gasping. Thirwyn began using his small wings to bat away at the smoke. The smoke began to clear. Finally he found her on the ground, in tears and blood.

“Amy!” Thirwyn roared as he ran toward her.

She didn't hear him. “Please. Let them go!”

Thirwyn looked to what Amy was pleading to. There was so much smoke he could only see a vague outline of it. In front of him was a large silhouette of a broad head with ram horns and webbed wings expanding above the smoke. A dragon! But how could a dragon have done this? Thirwyn's father had always told him that dragons protected humans. They didn't cause destruction like this!

 At the feet of the dragon-like creature were two humans that Thirwyn did not recognize. One was a man, and one was a woman. The creature laughed at Amy and pick up both humans with one dragon-like paw.

“Don't! Please!”

Thirwyn could only watch in horror as the dragon tossed the two sobbing humans into the fire beside it.

“NO!” Amy cried and surged toward the fire, as if she could rescue them. The creature slammed Amy with its tail and surged into the sky with a single beat of its giant wings, taking with it the whole scene of terror Thirwyn had witnessed.

They were in the green meadow again. It wasn't as bright as it was before. There was a hue of darkness that hung in the air. The sun had dimmed, and the sky had darkened. It was as if the horrible scene had left its awful essence.

Thirwyn spotted Amy curled into a ball. Thirwyn hurried to her. “Amy! Amy, are you all right?”

Amy said nothing.

“Amy, it's all right. The nightmare's over.”

“It wasn't a nightmare,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“I said it wasn't a nightmare!” she snapped and sat up. “It happened, Thirwyn! What you saw back there just happened to my parents.”

“Amy, this is a dream. It couldn't have happen.”

“It happened just now. It happened when I woke up.”

Thirwyn stiffened. The small spine on the back of his neck lifted in anxiety. “What?!”

Amy roared. “Are you deaf or something? I said—”

“I know what you said, but that's…that's impossible. A dragon would never—”

“A dragon just did!” Amy snapped.

“So your parents are...”

“Dead? Yeah. They are. Thanks.”

Thirwyn felt a cold horror slip over him as he heard those words. Not too long ago he had lost his mother after a band of Dark Followers raided their clan. For days, Thirwyn had tried to crawl out of his morbid stupor. If hadn't been for his dreams with Amy and his father's persistent attempts to keep Thirwyn sane, Thirwyn might not have been as stable as he was.

He approached Amy, hoping to comfort her, as she had only a couple of years before. “Amy, I'm so sor—”

“Don't touch me!” Amy hissed, recoiling from Thirwyn.

Thirwyn stumbled back, shocked by Amy's words. “Amy...”

“Get away from me! GO!”

The sky became darker with rain clouds. Thunder and lightning mimicked Amy's emotions and lashed out in the sky.

“Why?” Thirwyn begged.

“You told me a dragon would never hurt a human! You told me that dragons always protected humans! I believed you! And now this has happened!”

“But that's what dragons do. We don't hurt people! We save them.”

“Then where were your dragons when this dragon decided to barbeque my parents.”

Thirwyn shuddered at her harsh tone. “I don't know. Our clan is just moving. Amy, I swear, I would've been the first to warn them if—”

“But you didn't! You heard the crash like I did! You didn't wake up to tell anyone.”

“I was waiting for you-”

“You should have been calling for help! But you didn't. Also, you didn't warn me about the dragon attacking us!”

“I didn't know. We don't even know if it was a dragon!”

“What else do you think it was?” she snapped.

Thirwyn tried to find something, but he came up with nothing.

“How can I trust you? My parents are dead because some dragon! So you lied to me! You didn't try to help me! You didn't even do anything to tell me! And how do I know you aren't just saying all that about dragons because you want to trick me?”

“What?! No! Amy, I'm saying that to trick you. It's the truth-”

“No it's not! My parents are dead.”

“Amy...”

“Go, Thirwyn!” she snapped. “Just go! I don't ever want to see you!”

“Amy! Please—”

“GET OUT! I hate you, and I hate dragons!”

“Amy...”

Thirwyn. Thirwyn! he heard his dad's voice call from outside the dream.

“No! Amy!” Thirwyn felt himself being pulled away by the sound of his father's voice.

“LEAVE! DON'T YOU EVER COME BACK!” he heard Amy scream before he reentered the world of consciousness.

Prologue: Dreams to Nightmares

Rain water ran down the glossy scales of the dragons walking through the forest of Grenvale on the third night of the rainy season. There were dragons of all ages: hatchlings and nestlings that clung to their mothers' backs; fledglings that huddled together and desperately tried to keep pace; adults that kept the pace of the clan; and the ancients the lingered in the back strong in mind but weak in strength. The clawed feet dragged in the earth and their ram horned heads were just high enough to keep their noses from inhaling dirt. The rain pounded on their scales. The spikes that ran down their neck were flat from exhaustion.

The dragon heading the group held a more upright, alert position. His oak brown eyes scoured every inch of the path for danger. Deer-like ears were perked and twitched at every sound. His head was higher, though he too was just as exhausted (if not more exhausted) as the rest. His scales were like expertly carve emeralds. His wings, though furled, were webbed and large. His four legs were bulked with muscles that threw five thousand pounds of power into every swipe against his enemy. Of all the dragons, this one seemed the least approachable with claws ready to swipe and jaw tensed, ready to clamp on any spine.

On the head dragon's head was a smaller, younger dragon, a nestling at the best. The older dragon had no trouble carrying the younger child on his broad head. The nestling was as light as an adult cat, no problem for a human to carry and practically weightless for a dragon. In fact, the nestling was so light that the older dragon only knew the nestling was there by the sound of the nestling's heartbeat and breathing.

The nestling was a smaller, more innocent version of the dragon that carried him. His head was smaller and more rounded with youth. He hadn't grown into his barely taloned claws and his wings certainly hadn't grown to fit his body. His bright yellow eyes drooped with exhaustion, but he fought it off. Unlike the adult dragons that had to walk, he fought the urge to sleep because of the growing child-like excitement that burned and warred with his tendency and need for sleep.

“Are we there yet?” the nestling asked.

“No,” the older dragon said. “But we are close.”

“You said that half a day ago.”

“It was not that long ago,” the older one chuckled.

“Yes it was. The sun was up then.”

“The sun is up now. The rainclouds are just blocking it.”

“I don't believe it. It's darker than it would be.”

“If it's so dark, then you should get some rest.”

“Then I'll miss it when we finally get there.”

“I'll wake you up when we're close.”

“But you already said we're close. That's why I'm awake.”

The older dragon laughed. It came out in soft, gruff, low-pitched breathes that came from deep in the dragon's belly. “It might be a while.”

“But you said we were close.”

“Yes. But the rain isn't helping our travels.”

“Will we get there tonight?”

“Most probably.”

“Then I'll stay awake.”

The older dragon laughed again.

The younger dragon yawned, despite his promise to stay awake. “Dad?” the nestling called to the older dragon.

“Yes?”

“Have you ever seen a human?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“What did the human look like?”

“Hmmm... well which one? I've seen many.”

“The first one you saw.”

“Hmmm... well, I was a fledgling the first time I ever saw a human. He was tall. Had white fur growing out of his head. He was also very old. Maybe as old as Miren.”

The nestling laughed. “How'd you meet him?”

The father hesitated. “Why are you so curious to hear these things?”

“I want to know. Did you meet him in a dream?”

“No. Of course not,” the older dragon laughed. “You can't meet someone in a dream.”

“Not even a human?” the nestling asked, confused.

“Not even a human.”

“Oh.”

“What brings these strange questions?”

“Oh,” the nestling said, sounding embarrassed, “Nothing.”

“It's nothing to be embarrassed about.”

The younger dragon fell silent. The father heard a yawn, then after a few minutes, he could hear the nestling's soft rhythmic breathing indicating that the nestling had finally fallen asleep. “Good night, dear Thirwyn.”

*                                                                           *                                                              *

Thirwyn found himself in the green meadow in his dream. The grass was always as bright green as it was after a nice rain. However the vanilla sky above showed no sign of rainclouds and the sun shown just as bright as always. It was a simple scene, but it was mesmerizing to Thirwyn. This was where he always started in his dreams. Here he would wait for his friend to join him. He rested on the grass and pawed at a particularly tall blade. She would meet him here, and they would create adventures, worlds, and stories in their dream. One night they would battle against giant man-eating flowers, the next they would be exploring the great fish kingdom in the sea.

Soon he began to feel another presence entering his mind. He jumped up in anticipation. His friend would be here soon. He saw her stand at the other end of the meadow, wearing an orange linen dress. He smiled and ran to her.

The girl ran to him and tackled him to the ground. Thirwyn laughed and tried to wrestle out of her hold, but like always, she beat him with her size. “I win,” she said triumphantly as she sat on him.

Thirwyn laughed. “You know, Amy, I'm gonna be a big dragon, and then we'll see who wins.”

Amy let him up. “You know, for some reason my parents don't really like dragons. I was telling my parents about the adventure last night, and they were horrified when I was telling them about you.”

“Hmmm... that's strange. My dad is a bit weird about humans as well. Whenever I ask him about them he always changes the subject somehow.”

“Parents are weird.”

“Tell me about it.”

Amy shrugged. “Oh well. What do you want to do now?”

Thirwyn thought for a second. “I always wondered what would find if you dug to the center of the earth.”

Amy smiled. “And I know a tribe of mountain trolls around here that can help us dig. Come on.”

The two ran out of the meadow into a mountain range covered with snow. There was no end to what their young six-year-old imaginations could conjure. Amy would built up forts as big as palaces for them both to wander. They imagined going to war over the precious Treasure of Holmust against the trolls that inhabited a neighboring fortress. Thirwyn laughed as he dumped snow from high places on the grotesque invaders. Amy giggled as she launched rapid snowballs that stopped the oncoming forces. They were winning of course. Their palace would be safe, and they would valiantly retrieve the Treasure of...

Then Thirwyn heard a large crash and scream that shook the whole dream. He looked around and saw that Amy had disappeared, and he was back in the meadow. The crash must have come from Amy's outside world and woke her up, he concluded. It had happened before. One of them had been woken up before the other. However, usually it was the sound of some kind voice that beckoned them back to the conscious world. Worry pressed in on him. Was everything all right? The crash wasn't bad, was it? Was someone trying to hurt her?

He anxiously paced around in the grass. Should he wake up? Or should he just wait for her? In the end, Thirwyn decided to remain in the meadow and wait. His anxiety would not cease until he knew Amy was all right.