Christmas

Foster

Soft mewing. She could hear it, faintly…which direction was that coming from? To the east? No..no…from the northwest. Yes. That had to be it.

She tightened her fishscale basket around her sides carefully. She didn’t want to wake him with the movement. She was sure he was used to being carried by now, however, she was always on the cautious side.

She ducked carefully under branches, moving swiftly. The mewing was louder now. It would draw the unwanted attention of predators if she didn’t get there soon. Predators she wouldn’t be able to fight off with her basket slung around her.

She broke through the brambles, gasping for breath.

Then she saw it.

A little fiery Pearlcatcher, scales gleaming in the moonlight, crawling on the ground and mewing for his mother. A mother who wasn’t in the vicinity. She sniffed, but no nest smell, that typical smell of cut branches and leaves, of scent markings and recently deceased food. It was absent in its entirety.

Abandoned. It must be abandoned, she thought. She quietly walked over to the youngling, trying not to startle him. He stopped mewing and looked at her, tilting his head, his orange eyes widening. Lowering her head to him, she nuzzled him gently, calming him down, then picked him up gently with her teeth. He struggled, wriggling around, but settled after a minute or two. She reared up on her back legs, tilted the basket on her side open, and dropped him in.

The other little one in her basket looked at her, then smiled and chirped happily. His fluffy form identified him as a young tundra, and though he wasn’t her kin in any way, she carried him with her. The Pearlcatcher, a little shocked from being dropped, rubbed himself onto this new, furry body next to him and drifted into slumber.

She made her way back to her small lair as quietly as she could. She sensed danger that the young Pearlcatcher had attracted with all his noise, and planned to avoid it at all costs. She would not risk the safety of her brood.

As she untied the basket from around her ribcage, soft growls came from the back of the cave. Two more dragons approached cautiously, larger than the hatchlings but not yet grown. She nuzzled each of them in turn, acknowledging them as ‘Khalisi’ and ‘Cypress’. Then she tipped the basket on its side, opened it, and chirped at the little ones to come out.

The tundra came first, his bright blue wings contrasting his golden body, wriggling around and rolling out onto the floor of the cave, his little claws grabbing at the air.

“Leomare,” she exclaimed, laughing, “Stop being so adorable and roll over.”

He smiled again, and then rolled onto his feet, chirping to his Pearlcatcher companion to come out. The dragon crept out of the basket warily, eyes darting around the cave looking for danger. When he realized there was no one going to attack him, he pounced out onto Leomare and rolled him over.

“Such a firecracker he is. Now what shall we call you, little one? I think….Capriccio will be your name.”

He chirped happily and sucked on his tiny pearl. It oozed with a black tar-like substance, but he didn’t seem to mind putting it into his mouth. Pearlcatchers were odd creatures, she decided.

She nudged all of the young dragons to the back of the cave, the smaller weaker newborns to the back, and Khalisi and Cypress in front of them. Then, she curled herself around all of them and drifted into slumber.

In her dreams, trees sparkled above her. She could feel her basket tied around her, and her other two charges sitting on her back, but where was she? She could smell other dragons, but she wasn’t afraid. Why wasn’t she afraid?

The chirping of birds woke her. She stretched gently, trying to avoid waking the hatchlings. Khalisi and Cypress were growing larger by the day, now twice the size of the other two youngsters. They would be large enough to start hunting soon, however, as a plant eater herself, she had no idea how to teach them how to catch their prey. Before now, she had only taken in plant-eaters, but they had needed her help, and she couldn’t just leave newborns to die.

She approached the entrance to the cave cautiously. She had to be careful that nothing saw her leave or return, to avoid drawing attention at all costs. Any predators that suspected where her younglings were was a risk. She smelled the air, inhaling deeply, judging the safety of the outside. It seemed fine to her, so she crept out to look for food.

She returned, mouth filled with leaves. She chomped happily on her prize. She was excellent at finding the most delicious plants, though she had barely had any training from her own mother. Maybe that was why she catered to the needs of abandoned younglings.

Something stirred in the bushes near her cave. The crack of a snapping twig in another direction. The hair along her spine rose, and she took a defensive position, growling angrily, trying to scare whatever it was off. She worried. It could be Plague. The lair was situated right in the border between Wind, Arcane, and Plague territory. Wind dragons didn’t bother her, and she thought the presence of the Arcane Flight would keep Plague out of her way.

As the plants around her began to wither and die, she knew. Her decision to place her lair here was a mistake. Dragons seeping with green ooze, bleeding, flesh rotting off their bones. These were the dragons of the Plaguebringer.

And they were here for her.
________________________________________
Sounds of a fight. Roars and growls.

Rubin and Thunderclap were patrolling the border for Freya. She had sensed something was wrong, possibly Plague encroaching on Arcane land again. Ashensnow and Shadowpath had confirmed that something was amiss, but they couldn’t fully determine what. Thunderclap had been charged to patrol alone, but Rubin had volunteered to accompany him. It had been a while since Rubin had been out of the lair for any stretch of time, as being the mate of the clan leader had preoccupied his time, but now with Royalle leading he had time for a break.

They crept towards the noise stealthily, and peered their large bearded heads through the bushes.

A trio of plague dragons, two mirrors and an imperial, were prowling outside of a cave, growling and looking impatient. A tundra, white and red with a crackling of emerald guarded the entrance, and they could hear frightened mews from inside. The mirrors lunged at her, tearing at her fur, but she seemed mostly unharmed. Her thick coat of fur, despite it being summer, protected her from the worst of their talon-like claws.

The two guardians looked at each other and nodded.

They charged into the clearing, baring teeth and roaring. The imperial lunged at them and reared up. They were lucky there was only one. The last thing they needed was an Emperor in their territory. Rubin sunk his teeth into his neck. The flesh gave way beneath his teeth, stinking of rot. He let go, trying to rid his mouth of the taste.

Thunderclap threw himself onto it’s back, breaking it’s spine and paralyzing it’s legs.
They then looked on to the mirrors. One look at their eyes and the mirrors fled back where they came. The imperial writhed on the ground, trying to escape. Thunderclap stepped with all his weight on the dragon’s neck, snapping it. The imperial went limp, and its eyes darkened.

Rubin walked slowly towards the mouth of the cave, his head lowered in submission, trying to convey that he was not a threat and did not intend to harm the tundra. She growled at him softly as he came closer, then sniffed the air.

He smelled….familiar. Where did she know this scent from? She was unsure, but she relaxed slightly from her defensive pose and allowed him to approach the cave. The other dragon that came with him followed, but far behind.

He came within attacking range of her, and lowered his head further.

“My name is Rubin, mate of Clan Matriarch Freya, of Clan Amalthean. Are you alright? We were sent to survey the border and stumbled upon the attack.”

Shallow cuts and bruises aside, she nodded. She felt something wiggling between her legs. Capriccio climbed out, stood between her legs and growled as ferociously as a little Pearlcatcher could. Rubin chuckled, and lowered his head, head-butting the hatchling softly. Capriccio rolled over onto his back and kicked out with his legs, trying to fight.

Rubin raised his head. “He doesn’t smell like yours. Whose is he?”

“He’s mine now. I found him wandering alone. I take in the hatchlings I find who have been abandoned and raise them.”

She turned to the back of the cave and chirped that everything was safe. Three more small faces peeked out of the cave. Another pearlcatcher, an imperial, and a little tundra, no bigger than the first pearlcatcher. Rubin eyed them all with curiosity, then turned to his companion and whispered something. His companion nodded, then Rubin returned his attention to her.

“It is not safe for you here so close to the borders, as I’m sure you’ve surmised. We would like to relocate you somewhere safer. Would you be willing to come with us?”
She glanced down at the younglings. She would not risk their safety. If a safer location was offered, she would take it in a heartbeat.

“Yes, yes, I’ll go with you. Where will I be going?”

“You’ll be welcome in our clan. We’re set up right now in the Focal Point, close to the edge of the Star Wood Strand. You’ll have a section of the lair to yourself, and your younglings will be free to play with ours. We have plenty of guards, and other parents right now to watch out for them.”

“That sounds…nice actually. How long will I be staying?”

“As long as you wish. That is up to you. Whether you stay just until the danger has passed, until your hatchlings are grown, or if you wish to stay permanently, it is your decision.”

She retreated into the cave, picking up her basket and loading Capriccio and Leomare inside it. When Rubin saw her with the basket, he looked back at Thunderclap and chuckled. Such a familiar practice. Khalisi and Cypress crawled up onto her back and helped her tie the basket on. Rubin led the way through the trees, navigating the familiar territory, while Thunderclap followed up the rear, smudging their tracks with his tail.

Rubin tilted his head back and watched her in the corner of his eye.

“What was your name, by the way? I didn’t catch it.”

“Christmas.”