Rapidwing

Once fearing the size of the dragons, the Beasties, as they were known in this region, found that in large numbers they could out maneuver a single dragon, earning a new slave. As slaves these dragons dug for hours on end in the mines. Or they toiled in the heat of the kitchens, cooking huge meals to serve to the massive amounts of Beastie mouths. The meager meal of the dragons were cooking down in one cauldron – in spite of the diet needs to keep a dragon healthy – they were boiling down bones for a marrow broth that they would enhance with whatever they could scavenge safely.
They treated dragons horribly, often stealing eggs directly from the nest when the parents are distracted by their cohorts. One minute there are 4 eggs and then there are only 3. Parents mourn the loss of the hatchling that should have been there, ready to hatch in just a few more days.
She carries the bones of some such babes that she couldn’t save. Like much of her clan Rapidwing had been a slave of the beast clans. She had been looking for allies to help release at least the children. With help of a friendly and caring Parda named Mystic, she slipped the chains that bound her hands and feet. The steel rings around her wrists and ankles would stay, to be a reminder of what she had been through. What she had seen others of her kind go through. “Quietly!” whispered Mystic when Rapidwing stumbled. “The box is just around the corner here. I do hope we are not too late.
The steel box was cold. It bore a lock like none she had seen before. She would have to take the box as it was and just hope she found help in time. As weak as she felt she managed to lift the box and with Mystic’s help it was settled atop her wings, in hopes that the trip would not cause any additional trauma. She walked this way for over a day with her dear friend helping give her water, stalks of the cattails that lined the small watering hole and they were ever fortunate enough to find some shellbugs.
Suddenly sand flew everywhere and where there was just another sand dune stood 2 dragons, a Tundra and a Guardian. The guardian, Hilda, instinctively took a fighting stance when she noticed the Parda. “No, no! Please! Mystic is a friend and has helped others such as myself, find new life with clans of dragons He happened upon this box and heard faint mewling noises – surely from eggs that hatched too soon. Please, help me with this lock!”
While OldOak, the Tundra, eyed Mystic cautiously, Hilda easily broke the lock and with a stoic breath, she and Rapidwing lifted the cover, revealing the too still forms of 4 wildclaw hatchlings and 2 unhatched eggs. Rapidwing tried not to get her hopes up but the very chance that these 2 would have a life that all dragons deserved. Yes! They lived! Soft noises could be heard from within the eggs. OldOak ventured over and very tenderly lifted each egg and determined that they should be hatching very shortly. He dug out a small nest into the warm sand and settled his furry-self on top of the eggs. He would be their guardian on this night.
OldOak advised the others to rest as he would remain awake to assist with the hatching if necessary. Rapidwing and Mystic settled together and she fondly nuzzled her little friend. Yes, she realized, they were indeed friends. As though he could read her thoughts, Mystic raised his eyes to meet hers and nodded before lying back into her warm feathers. He would not notice until the next morning that Rapidwing had taken the poor little forms that would never laugh or cry. She was sheltering them among the feathers of her right wing. Instinctively he understood how much she needed to carry these poor unborn remains with her, to realize that although they lost 4, hope was still alive. Their eyes met one last time before sleep settled over them.
With a start Rapidwing awoke and nearly stepped on her friend Mystic. What was that sound? Was it an attack? “Easy girl,” OldOak spoke gently, “these two owe their lives to you and, and to that.” “By ‘THAT’ he means your friend Mystic,” explained Hilda. Then the greatest thing she had ever witnessed, 2 hatchlings that were NOT born to be slaves, but to have the lives that so many deserved. She glanced quickly to her right wing, feeling the weight of those that passed. She knew she gave up flight to always keep these bones close.
Their new young charges popped out of the water hole using cat tails as their version of a hobby horse. To see them free of worry and full of life did the 4 Elders a lot of good. They all perked up, grabbed a quick ‘pre breakfast’ and walked for just a couple hours with the youngsters now riding on the backs of OldOak and Hilda. Rapidwing had a tear in her eye knowing that Yarrow and Shaalda would grow up with the 4 odd looking proud parents to watch all of their firsts. A rainbow appeared and a flock of white doves flew through it. Life would be good for all of them now.