Sorrento

Please do NOT change this dragons's name! Thank you! :D

As the days grew shorter and summer’s heat faded into a memory, the atmosphere of the lair changed. Some dragons delved into their belongings, bringing out brightly-colored ornamentation which they wore with a determined air. Hunters became businesslike, checking their equipment and conferring with one another over migratory patterns and snowpack and which rivers were likely to remain open. Youngsters who had never seen snow gazed out onto the first fall of the year with wide and wondering eyes before energy got the better of caution and sent them bounding out into it in an explosion of daring.

Sorrento sidestepped a trio of young Guardians trying to push one another off the ledge in front of the lair and leaped to the top of what, in spring, would be her favorite sunning stone. She surveyed the sparkling white blanket below the lair with pleased eyes, then winced as two of the young Guardians tumbled off the ledge, plowing big furrows in the pristine surface, their whooping somewhat muffled. Sighing deeply, she sprang into the crisp air.

As a dragon of Ice, she never noticed what most of her lairmates called cold. For her, winter offered a time of renewal. Not that she begrudged the other seasons--among other things, they brought a bounty of delicious bugs, a source of ever-changing delight. In winter the insects all slept deep in the earth or walled behind thick bark, forcing her to subsist on meat. But for all its culinary dreariness, she loved winter. When she tired of the chatter and bustle of lair-bound neighbors who wanted to grumble about the cold or discourse endlessly in loud voices regarding mates, offspring, who was doing this and that and what they thought about it, she could always find rest and renewal in exploring the snow-covered mountains near the lair.

Today she flew deeper into the mountains, seeking a particular small river. She’d discovered it quite by accident, while hunting summer snails down in a canyon too narrow and clogged with trees and brush for any of the larger dragons to enter. Even the Fae disdained hunting here, finding no space to spread their wings. But a Spiral could eel in among the branches with ease. On that hot day the snails--if they were to be found--would seek out the cooler depths of the canyon, and that was precisely what Sorrento had been doing when her ears pricked at the sound of water.

Her efforts had left her thirsty. Darting from branch to branch with her wings furled snugly, she soon began to pick up tantalizing scents of damp stone and earth, the fragrances of bark in a humid environment. All of a sudden she sensed a cooler current of air ahead, and wriggled through a last screen of leaves.

The tiny river lay in the slot it had carved in the canyon floor, chuckling swiftly over its bed of rounded stones. Larger chunks of rock lay here and there. Although branches criss-crossed overhead, no trees had been able to root where the water would run high in the wet season, and the wrack on the walls showed what happened to anything that tried. Sorrento’s tail writhed gleefully against the branch as she took in the broad, inviting tunnel of open air above the water. The light was brighter upstream and--her ears swiveled forward--a curious roaring hovered just on the edge of her being able to identify it.

This begged investigation. Unwinding her tail from the branch and opening her wings, she plunged towards the water for a quick drink before setting off upstream in a swift series of loops. The gentle flow of air buoyed her wings, allowing her greater freedom to move. She was in a mood of unadulterated delight when she reached the tunnel’s mouth, heavily screened with small branches. Undaunted, she chose the thickest and furled her wings to dart along it to the parent tree, then scampered up its trunk. Wrapped around the stub of a broken-off branch, she surveyed the view before her.

The canyon ended abruptly in a steep cliff face that bent itself in an arc shaped like a centaur’s hoof. Masses of broken stone littered the bottom of the hollow. But the true wonder was the sparkling, frothing flood of water that burst from the cliff face to tumble into the hollow far below, where it boiled and churned before slipping out snake-swift to become the river. Its exultant roar filled her ears and shivered through her entire body.

She sat and watched the waterfall for a long time, absently digging grubs out of the decaying wood of the branch, studying this marvel that no one had ever reported. Of course, from the air it wouldn’t look like much. The hollow was too small to draw interest, and the trees growing thickly around it would make it look even smaller. This waterfall was hers.

Now she flew over the stark world of shining snow and dark trees. Flying in these conditions demanded she wear goggles against the glare, but she didn’t care. All through the year she had continued to visit her waterfall, noting its changes as the seasons progressed. It had pleased her to see that despite the arrival of winter’s true cold, its waters continued to flow. But this latest series of storms had left her lair-bound for several days, chafing. What was her waterfall doing?

She always approached it along the river-tunnel; it seemed fitting somehow to make it her pilgrimage. Today the riverbanks were caked with shining ice, setting off the dark channel of free water in the middle like a slash of calligrapher’s ink in the middle of clean parchment. The sight of moving water drove her on. At last she reached her viewing branch, layered in snow that squeaked mouselike under her grip as she wound herself into place and gazed out upon ... glory.

Her waterfall had been busy. Great sheets of deeply grooved ice, conjoined icicles, draped over the rock face in complex layers, festooned here and there with puffs of drifted snow. At the top of the waterfall, the ice grew together into a hood bearing a long fringe of delicate icicles. Midway down the waterfall, where the water began to strike chunks of stone, the fantasia of sculpted ice grew wilder and more complex. The pool itself remained too turbulent to freeze, but it bore a broad rim of ice and snow where spume and splatter had collected on the rocks rimming the pool and grown together into bridges sturdy enough to allow snowfall to accumulate.

The sunlight was just creeping over the top of the hollow. As she watched, the sheets of ice first sparkled painfully bright, then seemed to glow as the light entered the more translucent ice sheets above and fed down into white masses below. The black water at the center of the pool took on a shade of deepest blue.

This. Sorrento felt her soul lift. This was the answer to the question she’d always had. Water and Ice, creating a beauty so perfect that it bubbled over. Leaving her perch, she darted into the open air of the hollow ... and began to dance.

***

When she returned to the lair near sunset, exhausted, she found Aolkien standing at the entrance, clearly just in himself.

“I told them you would be fine,” he grumbled, shaking snow from his mane and turning to go inside. “Get you to Niomi all the same. You smell of fatigue.”

She nodded and lifted herself wearily over his head, seeking the healer’s usual nook. As expected, the graceful Skydancer exclaimed in dismay and waved her to one of the elevated cushions reserved for her smaller patients. Sorrento braced herself for a scolding, but Niomi only started a small mage-fire in the brazier beside the cushion, setting a small pot of water over it and adding generous spoonfuls of dried beetle larvae. Sorrento felt her mouth water, then swung her head in dismay as Niomi sprinkled in measured amounts of three mysterious powders.

“Don’t worry, it won’t harm the taste.” Niomi paused to lean her head over Sorrento, antennae quivering. With a businesslike nod she added one more tiny scraping of powder, then returned to the spell-warded shelves that many dragons used to preserve delicate foods. She returned with a fat little pot and dumped a knob of white paste into the steaming broth.

“You have found what you sought,” the healer stated, putting the pot back onto its shelf.

“What?” Startled, Sorrento took her eyes off of the white blob bobbing on the surface of the broth and looked up, flexing her tail uneasily.

The Skydancer smiled benignly down at her. High on the wall overhead, her white dove preened itself on a perch. “You have found your dance,” she said simply. “I’m glad.”

Blinking, Sorrento realized that Niomi actually seemed to understand. She had never spoken with a Skydancer before, distrusting their reputation of seeing one’s thoughts. Confused, she took refuge in silence, watching the broth roil softly. The white blob slowly dissolved. Eventually Niomi deemed the stew ready and gestured permission for Sorrento to eat.

The rich, velvety stew was delicious, and Sorrento found herself ravenous. When she had polished the bowl clean with her tongue, Niomi spoke once more.

“Will you show me your dance sometime?”

Startled, Sorrento blinked at her. Niomi tipped her head to one side.

“You are no hatchling, to exhaust yourself over a trifle. I wish I could see what you worked so hard to create.”

“I ...” Sorrento felt as if the steam from her supper had filled her head. Part of her wanted to be angry at Niomi, for having seen so much already and wanting more. But another part of her whispered that it would be nice to share her dance with someone who might understand it. “Yes,” she said at last, unfurling her wings. “Thank you for your help.”

****

Today. Soon.

Sorrento shifted her coils yet again, only just stopping herself from making matters worse, and patiently began working the half-hitch knot out of her tail. The iron-banded wood of the chest filled her gaze. Reaching out, she raised the lid, awakening a glimmer from what lay within.

Sparkling, faceted ice caught forever in a stay-spell. Father, your gift. Shimmering blue stretched over ribs of silver. Mother, this was yours. Drawing a deep breath, she drew her treasures out. I never wore these before, and yet I think I had them in mind all along. She hesitated, then turned to the shelf that held the bits and pieces she had picked up here and there. The tail jewel ... yes. And to cast light, the candles.

Moments later, the rustling of feathers and a soft cooing announced the arrival of her friend. Sorrento smiled, and glided out to greet her.