Aleksandr

Where did you come from?

She didn't know.

To be fair, she didn't know much about herself. Some days, she'd be sunning herself on a tree branch, watching the sun gild the rustling leaves, and something would strike her. A glimpse of murky green wing, a soft murmur. Aleksander, come here. Aleksander, fly strong. And each time, she'd nearly fall out the tree. Mother? Father? Home? A place beyond her reach, beyond this horizon? Without fail, the same questions rose to boil her blood, send her mind in a frenzy. In those moments, the world seemed not so vast after all, small enough to find the dragon attached to that wing, that voice.

She'd asked the clan leader once, where she came from. Who had left her at the cave's doorstep? Who had attached that note to her feathers, that slip of parchment with the name Aleksandr? She'd asked quietly. Discreetly. With great maturity, she thought.

Her only response was a sad stare. Aleksandr didn't feel cowed often, but when the clan leader settled a heavy pat on her back, with a look so filled with pity, she felt herself recede into the hatchling she had been when she first was taken in.

"Don't look, Aleksandr. Stay in the present."

Not too long after that, she found herself in the trees again. If she looked closely enough, she could almost see her parents in a fold of shadow: the longing that closed her throat was familiar, and always matched by a swell of anger. Why did she have to find her roots so badly? Why couldn't she just be happy? She had friends here, a family of her own she loved more than life itself. Come back to earth, Aleksandr.

And then she'd rejoin her clan, watch the hatchlings tumble and turn in the circle of a dragon's limb. A mother's glance, a father's touch.

She always looked away. That was why.

But why the mystery? She saw her old life in that fold of shadow, but never in the light. And always that soft murmur, accompanied by a wreath of darkness. She found it everywhere - the flicker of her clan leader's eyes whenever she brought up her birthplace, the scattered silence weighing on her clan mates at the very mention of it. The last time it had happened, she vowed to keep silent. Maybe it was for the best. The light was warm, and it embraced her as one of its own.

So Aleksandr quieted. She abandoned her tree-top perch, filtered her thoughts. She was happy. She was. And when she smiled at hatchlings, she ignored the tiny voice that snaked through her mind.

Where did you come from?