Iniabi

Iniabi used to be a genteel sort of dragon. However, after losing his mate and children to the services of the dragon gods, he became much more scatterbrained and forgetful as well as a bit worn around the edges. Nevermind that being called to the gods' service is the greatest honor. It left him alone.

Efforts made by his clanmates to console and engage him fell flat and he rarely left his section of the lair. When asked, he would say only that he wished to be left alone. Even the golden bantam fangar he kept as a familiar had taken to spending time with other dragons.

It was on one day midway between the Brightshine Jubilee and the Thundercrack Carnivale that things began to change. Iniabi departed the lair for the first time in months, sneaking so as not to be noticed despite his bright coloration. He took to the air, intending to find the place where memories could no longer haunt him.

He departed the Flamecaller's domain, winging his way higher and higher until exhaustion grayed out the edges of his vision. Tucking his wings to his sides, he let gravity take hold.

The next thing he remembered was being cradled in a pocket of warm air that smelled of grasses and reeds. He touched down and promptly fell into a deep sleep. Iniabi dreamed.

Necia was there. She ducked her head under his chin, her crest feathers tickling his throat. It was so good to have her by his side again! He hummed in delight. A familiar warm breeze stirred, and Necia turned from him. Following her gaze, he found himself looking directly into the eyes of the Windsinger.

"Yabi," she addressed him. He had always loved the pet name. "Our children serve their goddess in the Flamecaller. So, too, must I serve mine." She looked away from him again, toward the one who had stolen her from him.

Then the Windsinger spoke. His voice was softer than Iniabi had imagined it would be. "Necia has been a great help to me and mine. Still, you are lonely." Breezes Iniabi couldn't feel stirred the clouds that rose from the god's hide. "Let it not be said that we gods do not take care of our own. Wake!"

Iniabi's eyes cracked open. He was alone. A soft wind blew through the reeds on the steppes, making a sort of humming music that the coatl could appreciate. He began to get to his feet and froze. All unknowing, he had been curled around an egg bearing the Windsinger's markings. Carefully, carefully, he picked it up and started the journey home.

Though his return elicited a few confused looks from clanmates, it went largely unremarked upon. Most were simply happy that he had come back. And if he spend a large part of his days and his nights tending to the egg, who could blame him?

Sooner than he had expected, the egg hatched into a little tundra girl. Her eyes marked her as the Windsinger's kin. Iniabi was pleased fit to bursting, and that was before she turned to look him in the eyes and gave him her first word. "Yabi?"