Sceadu

When waking in the cool darkness of the Shadowbinder's lands, Sceadu felt a song stir in his heart. It was Life, it was Love, it was Everything. He knew to whom he owed his existence and he danced an exultation in Her honour. The darkness of the night and shifting curtains of mist and mire caressed him as he moved, until he was breathless and exhausted.

Crawling to a deep recess beneath a rocky outcrop, he slept through his first day and dreamed of magic and shadow.

When he awoke, with the dawning of twilight, Sceadu leapt to the top of his rocky hideaway and surveyed the lands about him. The skeletal trees and gloom were eerie in the blue-hour. He absolutely loved it. Spreading wing and gliding from his perch, the dragon lighted deftly on the ground and began to hunt for his first meal. He quickly found food and stacked a small hoard in his makeshift chamber, and again, lay to rest.

On the second day, he feasted on the remains of his first hunt then arranged the bones around the small clearing where he had first woke. He dug up stones and made a circle, finally placing the largest in the center, and adorned it with the skulls and antlers of his first kill, making a small circle with softly glowing mushrooms he thought pretty. Satisfied with his work, he climbed once again to his low promontory and surveyed the scene.

He would never forget this place, and when he had young of his own, they too would know the glory and magic of their Shadow Mom.

With a snort, he leapt into the air once more and glided south. He could smell salt on the breeze and he knew instinctively that a lair was waiting to be discovered, and abundant meat.

Sceadu was going Home.