Clan Chronicles, Chapter 1: The Beginning of Something...
Cirno padded across the plain softly, her footsteps crunching in the winter snow. She gazed up silently at the jagged crystal peaks that stretched toward the sky, far above her head. The snow was falling fast, muffling nearly all sounds but the agitated sea slamming against nearby rocks. She was finally back home, but in reality there wasn't much home to come back to.
There was never much home to begin with hatching alone and growing up by yourself, and that was what prompted her to leave in the first place. In the end all she had found was war. A fierce border dispute between groups of neighboring Plague and Shadow clans had broken out.The dragoness had done what she could to aid the soldiers, learning quickly how to use healing magic and utilizing it to the very best of her ability. She was often criticized for healing both armies indiscriminantly, but Cirno knew that her allegiance lay with neither of the two sides, and rather with the lives of those negatively affected by this battle. She knew it wasn't within her rights to tell them whether or not they should fight, bur she disliked seeing how they suffered, and wanted to help them in whatever way she could. A year had passed since she left and finally the fighting came to an end. She began the arduous trek home, but was intercepted once more by a conflict, this time a dragon clan waging war with an overly aggressive Serthis population. Again Cirno took to the medical field. She couldn't just leave them there in good conscience.
This and other perilous fights consumed Cirno's life for the next year and a half. Though the bloodshed she witnessed was awful and horrifying, she found her work of healing to be gratifying. It gave her a sense of purpose. All the tundra wanted was to make a difference in the lives of others, and here she was doing it in the most direct and impactful way possible. After a grueling two and a half years, the weary dragon made her way back to the Starfall Isles. She was still young, but stress and experience had aged her mind and soul far beyond her years. Now the dragoness was back on her own, searching for a respite from the world's challenges.
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The crisp air filled with the thunderous sound of hundreds of footsteps drumming against the earth. The pack moved not as an organized whole, but as several individuals aggressively competing to push ahead of each other for the privelage of leading the hunt.
Farkas was among them, traveling near the front of the group with the strongest members of the pack. His muscles ached from fatigue, and he had lost all feeling in his feet, but the mirror dragon forced himself to press on. Rest was for the weak, and the weak had no place in the pack. To abandon the hunt was to abandon the greatest glory, and to fail at your only purpose in life. And so he ran on, crowded in closely with the others, the mist of hot, ragged breaths crowding his vision.
Quickly and suddenly, a bark came from one of the dragons to his left. Someone had caught scent of prey.
"LEFT!" came the shout, followed by a chorus of repetitions as the direction spread like wildfire through the pack. "LEFT!", "LEFT!", "LEFT!" Those running towards the front of the group fell back, allowing for the original scenter to take the lead. As the command traveled, the pack members assimilated to the left, moving as a whole.
"RIGHT!", "RIGHT!", "RIGHT!", "RIGHT!" came the next series of orders, and the pack shifted again to weave around a tall crystal outcrop.
"BOAR!" The frontrunner announced this time, having identified the distinct, oily smell of the creature. "BOAR!", "BOAR!", "BOAR!" came the excited chants of the others as the news spread. Tongues lolled and heads perked up at the prospect of such a large, satisfying meal, and the mirrors stormed forward with renewed enthusiasm.
"AHEAD!", "AHEAD!", "AHEAD!" the frenzied shouts dictated. At this point Farkas could scent the creature as well, and he could vaguely detect its heat signature in the distance. They were closing in.
At last the creature appeared in Farkas's vision, first as a pool of heat on the horizon, then as an ever-broadening speck in the distance. The large featherback lumbered about, scraping in the snow with its cloven hooves in search of grass to nibble on. At the approaching sound it raised its head, and upon sighting the pack its wings spread in preparation for flight, but it was too late, for the pack was already upon it. Dragons lurched forth from all sides, taking running, flying, and diving leaps onto the beast and latching on with teeth and talons to any spot they could manage. Eager to relish in the taste of fresh blood and the thrill of the hunt, Farkas followed suit. His wings stretched outward as he continued to bound toward the featherback, feet leaving the ground as he leapt once, twice, and thrice before sailing above the bloody scene and careening straight down upon the boar with a violent screech, aiming for its eyes.
With a pained screech the beast
[To be continued at a later date]
