Miram

You did not intend to dedicate this much of the day to gathering. If the elongated shadows were of any indication, the lowering sun was a giveaway—night was encroaching the far horizon, and quickly. You took to the path you knew would lead to home, but decided upon a shortcut partway there you had heard mention of within your clan. You had taken it once - possibly twice - formerly. It showed when you lost track of recognized formations.

You were turned around, and if you hoped to maintain ownership of your day's work, you required an out-of-the-way place to rest until daylight. You found it in a field of plant growth: a burrow in a hill that gave way to a cavern. It took some squeezing and squirming, but you managed to get yourself through the crevice and into a comfortable expanse.

Warmth is what plotted your feet towards the third shaft. Depressions carved the rock into steep steps that led into the depths, which were walled in by untouched cave formations. This looked to be the most unnatural of the bunch, or perchance the most used. Runes marred the stone underfoot while stalactites patterned the ceiling. The tinkering of tools bounced off the structures like an untuned melody. Soft as the echo was, it grated against the ears once one had the misfortune of hearing it. As you watched, a flicker of orange and yellow illuminated what little you could see of the bottom, given the angle. If this was someone's home, it was best to make yourself known.

You descended the steps with cation. As you did so, both the light and the noise grew in volume. A silhouette was outlined by the flickering flames, one with poise and a slender frame. Your feet reached the bottom. A Skydancer was there, working by firelight on what had the shape of armor. A Clouded Mith spotted you first and turned its master's attention toward you. The dragon didn't look at all pleased by your unannounced attendance within her work space, even less so when you requested to remain until daylight. She was an amicable host, but frigidly so. You did all within your ability to stay out of her way.

Time loosened her maw. (As did, you guessed, your stare; you couldn't sleep with that clamoring.) She explained she was unaccustomed to your presence, and when you nudged gently for clarification, she went on to say she had been the last of her clan for over twenty moon cycles. This sat oddly with you, but she didn't pick up the topic until the moon was high enough to illuminate the stairs. She described a sickness that infected the lungs with black spores, and while doing so tapped the mask that covered her snout. She said sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't, but of all who had left or died, she alone remained. You feel your heart twinge. Without a thought, you offer your home to her.

Her working ceased. It took until the sun rose to dispel her doubts, but she reluctantly relented. The only things she took as the two of you ascended were her familiar, the clothes she donned, and a scarf much too big for her neck. Imperial sized, perhaps?



Written by Novetteus