Ravine

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She doesn’t remember the heigtnened sense of fear that stung her belly. She doesn’t remember the sound of snapping jaws inching closer and closer to her fleeting body. She doesn’t even remember the piercing red eyes of the beast that chased her, how it hungered for her hatchling flesh. No, how could she? The trauma had erased her memories, her adrenaline was the only thing powering her. And then the fear was gone.

A bipedal creature had bounded over her terrified body, had tussled with the hungry predator that once hoped for a feast. The night was too black for her to see a thing, and only the moon gave her a single hint of who her savior was. A brutish Wildclaw emerged from the dark, his soaked muzzle illuminated by the moonlight. Her paws were numb, and her head swam. Without a word, the large dragon grabbed her by the scruff, the warm, reeking stench reaching her nose.

The next thing Ravine knew, and could remember, was that she woke up against a jet black Coatl. The warmth of such a creature soothed her, and she was able to rest peacefully at last.

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Her purple eyes stared down at the weak hatchlings, her emotions unreadable to her adoptive parents. These squirming balls of fluff were so needy, constantly needing Nyx in their sight and food in their bellies. They were odd creatures, too fluffy for Ravine’s taste. It seemed that her father took less interest in them than even she did, rarely even in sight of the coatl family. Today was an acception, however.

Beelzebub was in the process of picking his heir, much to Ravine’s distaste. Something about “only his bloodline could continue the rule” made her feathers prickle with anger. She was the oldest, and definitely the most calculating, while these bumbling oafs before her showed zero potential. How was he even sure that the child he chose would grow up to be as great as he?

Yet here she sat, watching his piercing red eyes, so familiar and calming to her, mingle across the two hatchlings. She felt the gears in his mind turn, sifting through the pros and cons of each candidate. Nyx stared blankly at her mate, the feathers on her cheeks unkempt from her tears. She had lost one of the three to the elements, which had been the best candidate for Beelzebub’s plans - she had been a wildclaw.

After what felt like a lifetime, the fiendish male shook his head and turned away, talons clicking dangerously against the ground.

The feathers that lined the jet black coatl’s spine quivered and fell flat against her neck, her eyes widening. She opened her mouth to say something, anything... but no words slipped out. The wildclaw gave a long sigh and glanced back at her, his speech slow and calculating, “the male is too weak... he will not make it through the night. The female,” he gestured towards the pink cotton ball curled up close to her mother, “is nowhere near threatening enough.”

On one claw, this brought a new sense of hope into Ravine’s life. Perhaps she had a chance after all. On the other claw, she felt pity for the creatures, knowing their chance of glory would never come. Despite that, she smiled, breathing in the musty air and slipping out of her mother’s den. She would have to make sure her place in her father’s world was secure.

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It had been months. Her father had spoken the truth - the small male had just not had enough life in him