Masque remembers the first time he went to the Wyrmwound very clearly. He was still very young at the time, by many considered to still be a hatchling. He could speak, read, write and even cast a few spells, but in the eyes of many was still just a child. Not that he minded, really, Masque always preferred to blend into the background and be outshined by his peers. Not that he had many. He was the youngest in his clan by several decades. Some miracle or another brought him to where he now calls home. On the rare occasion he would meet another dragon his age, Masque often came out as awkard and never really connected.

It was a joint trip to the Wyrmwound. His clan and some of the others in the area sent their young, with a few chaperones, to go visit the Wyrmwound for the first time. They wanted the children to experience first-hand the dangers of the Wyrmwound. More importantly, they wanted them to see how other dragons and animals not only survived but thrived there. If they were lucky (as lucky as a rabbit’s foot stuffed with clovers his father had said) they might even witness the Plaguebringer herself.

Masque didn’t care much for the trip. It was a few days walk (they weren’t allowed to fly it due to a Snapper being in the group) through dangerous territory and Masque already knew all that he could about survival. He was born and raised in The Scarred Wasteland to a poor clan that some days struggled to even find food. He couldn’t turn down the trip, his clan had pulled every string to let him go on this trip. He didn’t even want to know how many days worth of food they traded away to let him, the only ‘child’, go visit the Wyrmwound like every Plague dragon supposedly dreamed to.

Although, the trip wasn’t an entire disappointment. As the days stretched on Masque found himself getting increasingly excited at the chance of meeting the Plaguebringer. Was there really a chance she would be there? Would she notice him? Talk to him? No, he would shake his head and tell himself, he was just a child. He wasn’t old enough to be given the honor of actually speaking to the Plaguebringer. But maybe... maybe if he should her what he could really do...

Masque decided it. If he got the chance, he would show off his spells. Even if everyone else at his age could do what he could, which in all honesty he wasn’t too sure about due to not having much contact with other hatchlings, surely she would be impressed that he even tried, right? He tried to shake off his doubts as the group continued walking.

He walked at the very back of the group so he could watch all the other dragons in front of him. There were 3 adults: a purple Wildclaw, a brown and tan Pearlcatcher and a deep red Spiral that flew overhead. He didn’t know any of their names. The Pearlcatcher’s name was probably something pretentious like ‘Lightbringer’ or ‘Sunholder’ or something. There were 7 other hatchlings with the group; the little grey Snapper who was about as big as he was. There was a giant Imperial that kept looking back at Masque, which made him really uneasy. The two yellow Skydancer twins who were really loud and totally childish. A gold Fae, they seemed friendly enough, but with those fins, it was hard to tell. A red skeletal looking Guardian who was being entirely overprotective of this teensy weensy blue Mirror. The Mirror was definitely the youngest of the group, but already more mature than those Skydancer twins. Masque felt a low growl begin to build in his throat, the Imperial looked to have never seen a hard day in his life, he looked well-fed and was dressed in expensive coats.

The Imperial looked back at him again and Masque felt icey terror bloom in his chest. Had he heard him? Did he know? He was so much bigger than he, what if he attacked? He couldn’t win in a fight... his only advantage would be terrain and Masque didn’t know the area! What would-?

“Masque!” The Spiral called down from below, “errything alright kiddo? Ya look like you seena ghost!” Masque took a breath and shook his head, yes he was alright.