Yu

The night was silent, except for the small creatures who skittered and scrabbled around the Shattered Plain, picking at scraggly plants or hunting for their prey. These silent nights were all she had ever known; that was how things went when you were born in Dragonhome. The vast, rocky landscape stretched on and on, housing the little noises with it's jagged rocks and hard cast shadows. It was beautiful but terrifying, but you grew used to it as you grew older.

Their lair was a great, open place, carved out under a jagged overhang. It kept them sheltered from the winds, though, and kept them plenty warm at night. Few predators bothered the dragons, and even so, at least one adult was always awake, guarding the hoard, the nests, and their clanmates as they slept. Tonight was Halla's night for such a watch. She paced back and forth for a while, her claws scraping lines into the dirt as she moved.

The sleeping dragons huffed and snuffed as they twisted and turned, forming a mass of wriggling bodies with the little ones in the middle, to keep them as safe as possible. Out of habit, the guardian counted the little dragons, who were all cuddled together. One, two--she paused in her pacing. There should have been a third hatchling; Tita had found one playing on her lonesome while scouting earlier, and had brought the little girl back when her clan could not be located.

She swung her head back and fourth, swallowing the panic that threatened to consume her. It was not usual for hatchlings to wander off, but good things rarely happened to them. Finally, she caught sight of the little female, sitting down and facing the far wall of the overhang they nested under. In the dark, she could make out what had caught her eye--there were little cave paintings back there, ones Nori had drawn in her spare time.

"So you like those?" She said quietly as she approached the hatchling, careful not to wake the other dragons. When she gave a little nod, Halla sat down next to her, sweeping hher close with her tail. "I quite like them, too. They tell a story, you know."

The little dragon, clearly enthralled by the paintings gave a gleeful little squawk. It was likely she hadn't made many friends during her short stay with the clan. She huddled close to Halla's side and studied each painting with wide-eyed amazement, trying to interpret the meanings of each drawing.

"Do you know what kind of story it tells?"

She shook her head after a moment more, looking up to Halla as if she had hoped the older dragon would explain it to her. Halla knew that look well. Her own hatchlings had loved to hear stories from their mother. The entire clan called her "Clan Mother", though, so what was she really, but the mother to all of the dragons that she now guarded?

"Each painting tells the story of how our clan came to be," she said, nodding to each of the colorful cave paintings. There were pictures of herself and Thrask, Nori, Huron, and Tita. Even Renoir and the newest hatchlings had their own paintings of their introduction to the clan. She told the little hatchling of how each came to be a part of their family.

"But... where is my painting?" She asked solemnly. The little dragon hadn't spoke much since her arrival---since Tita had brought her back with a confused look. It had only been a few hours at most, but it looked like the little fellow had already made her home here.

Halla scooped the small one up with one great foot and slid her back into the cuddly mess of hatchlings. "Tomorrow," she promised, "Nori will draw a beautiful picture of how you bravely crossed the Shattered Plain and came to be one of us." She nuzzled the hatchling affectionately, the way a mother would her child. "Now, my dear, sleep well, for the days are long on the Shattered Plain."