Largo

Largo and Dove (story by Soleil)

The ground was dark and coarse against the feet of the two Imperials, tiny flakes rising and settling on their scales in clouds. Dove strode over fire and ash, scandalously warm, darkening the bright, shimmering, reflecting colours up to her elbows. It was much like wearing gloves, albeit soft and ever changing ones. She had gotten used to the ash, in time, as she had gotten used to the smoke, the bright and ever-present glow of the many fires, and of course the heat.

Dove was of the ice, and that was always what she would deal with best, but that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate the beauty and climate of the Ashfall Wastes. Yet she still enjoyed coming down here, once a while. If she wandered down the slopes of the great volcano and followed the coastline, she could glimpse the glistening, sharp white glaciers of the Southern Icefield in the distance, and sometimes there were treasures of the region washed up on the shore. She didn’t feel homesick, nor did she want to return, but it was still nice: a memory of where she came from, her roots contrasted against her current home, and the occasional memento to take back with her. It was a beautiful spot and one that would turn up the nicest treasures if she were lucky to arrive at just the right time.

"It's dangerous," Largo said from behind her, not for the first time since they had started their walk. She would have gone alone, but of course he had insisted on accompanying her. He always did and she was actually glad because it showed her that he cared, enough to accompany her. If he had tried stopping her, she might have refrained from coming, but while he was worried, he apparently never thought to actually stop her.

"It's no more dangerous than the last time," she replied gently.

"Which just means that it has stayed exactly as dangerous at it was then, and it was already dangerous last time, and the time before," he grumbled, but there was no heat in it. His eyes slid over the landscape, scanning and scanning for anything that might harm her, before they returned to her with an expression she always loved seeing there.

She finally gave in, not capable of resisting any longer. Dove stopped and waited for Largo to catch up to her. There was a small pause as she gathered herself.

"Largo, I know you're worried," she finally said. She patiently waited for him to get all his huffs and puffs and half-mumbled expressions of embarrassment out of the way before she continued. “But I like this sometimes. Walking through the Ashfall Waste, seeing how the land changes, having a look at the Icefield. Sometimes I find interesting things as well. I don’t always want to stay in the lair just because it’s safer there.”

Largo seemed to be fighting with himself. He finally snaked his neck around hers, hiding his head in the soft patch of mane directly behind her ears and antlers.

“But you’ve gone more often recently. Do you want to leave? Have I done something wrong…?” The question came quietly and with more anxiety than she would have expected from him, no matter how clingy he could be sometimes.

“Largo, no! Of course not!” She gently tugged on his mane, trying to get him to emerge from his hiding place. He was stubborn about it at the first tug, but relented at the second. His eyes reminded her of a hatchling’s, after being denied their favourite bedtime story.

“As if I would want to leave you,” she whispered shyly, clasping his forepaws in her own.

The tip of his nose touched hers and her eyes closed, the moment stilling with nothing but the low grumble of the ever-shifting fiery ground surrounding them, the hiss of crackling flames and the imperceptible shift of smoke in the air, the movement of tectonic plates on liquid rock, the heartbeat of the world laid bare. This was home. Anywhere was home as long as he was there.

“You will stay?”

“Always.”

He nuzzled her again and finally drew back, his caring gaze already waiting for her when she opened her eyes. Dove couldn’t help but smile, the buzz in her chest spreading love and joy throughout her entire body. It was entirely too much, she needed some sort of outlet for it. Ideas started forming in her mind.

“Maybe we could bring the others a memento from the shore,” she mused. “I bet they would like that. Sometimes, the nicest things wash up down here… “

Largo huffed, back to his usual haughty self.

“They hardly deserve it. Why should those commoners receive a present from you anyway?”

“Largo, be nice,” she chided. “They’re our Clan. Of course they deserve something nice.”

“What would you even bring them, anyway?” He asked as they picked up their pace again, continuing the walk down the slope to the roaring shore of the strait that separated the Southern Icefield from the main continent.

“Sometimes there are small pieces of glass on the shore. The ocean and the sand smooth them into round beads. I thought they might look nice as jewelry.”

“Far too nice a gift for those…” he trailed off at seeing her pleading look.

“Oh, fine! I won’t say anything. I will even help you find your ocean glass.” Largo shook his head, but kept glancing in her direction. Dove’s warm smile told him these had been the right words.
“You could also help me give them out later…” She teased.

“Let’s not push it.”

“They would be very happy. I would be very happy too, I think.”

“Dove,” he sighed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t actually make you,” she said, still smiling at him with all her warmth. “Even though it would be nice.”

Largo nuzzled her again before he continued onwards, still turning his head this way and that to protect her from all harm. Dove walked with him, still smiling.