Stoneteller

The tunnels walls are nigh claustrophobic and you swear that the further down you go the narrower they get. You have no idea why you listened to her command, suddenly realizing the implications of what was happening. She was probably going to kill you, or at least could if she wanted to, obviously far more used to traversing the closed spaces. Despite this thought however, you feel.. relaxed, and strangely compelled to follow her down the winding path.
You can hear voices, so many and so quiet that not a word can be discerned from them. The sound washes over you like a waterfall, and is eerie.. but not unwelcoming.
Your body flattens further down, but relief floods through you as the ceiling opens up again, and a cavern is revealed.

Stretching your wings you take in the sight of bright, ultramarine lanterns reflecting on the cave walls. Water pools around stones in the middle of the cavern, lumped together to form what appear to be platforms. You look up, and at the highest point sits.. a wildclaw? He stares down at you, surreal looking amongst the blue light and stalactites hanging from the ceiling like daggers. The mirror next to you dips her head and the quiet splash of water is heard as she leaves the cave. He must be 'The Stoneteller'. Before you can say anything, he speaks.

"Welcome." His voice bounces off the walls, deep and powerful. That feeling is back. You've been lead here, haven't you? Not by that mirror. Something else told you to follow her. Something beyond what you know, what you've ever been told of.
The wildclaw leaps down from his calcite throne. Closer up you can make out his banded scales, tattooed with vibrant, verdure flora. He is wearing encrusted jewelry with softly glowing stones and carries a pouch of fragrant smelling herbs.

"You must be confused, I apologize. I am Stoneteller, the leader and healer of this tribe." Stoneteller dips his head. Slightly less intimidated, you.. dip back. It must be how they show respect or something around here.
"I assume Clinton was a little blunt towards you?" He sounds amused. "She can come off that way. Allow me to explain." He pads over to a chunk of flat rock and sits down, gaze friendly. Does he want you to sit with him? You do so, the cold stone flat against your belly soothing your nerves.

"This is the Tribe of Roaring Thunder, a home for dragons who have come from many places and seen many things. We have lived here for many years now, watching dragons come and go." Stoneteller begins, "Though she isn't one for thinking much before she speaks, Clinton means well. She was only halfway correct in telling you you cannot leave our territory." He paused, thinking about his words. The cave was silent, save for footsteps from the surrounding tunnels, dripping water and a distant meow. Normally the last sound would seem confusing for such a place, but you weren't given time to think about it before he began again.

"Clinton and Guava were the first to come here after many generations. Though we have evidence of a group of dragons having lived here long ago, we currently have no way of telling what happened to them or if any ancestors still linger here." You nod slowly, focused on his words but still glancing around at the rest of the cave. It really is beautiful. "There have always been strange events, even beyond the effects of the Wyrmwound."

"Seeing shapes of dragons not part of the Tribe, whispers, dreams, even. Things many have never seen before they enter the tunnels. That's why I am here." Stoneteller lifts his head to look up at the ceiling, as if you're both beneath the starlit sky just outside. "I was called here by something. I see our ancestors, and interpret the omens and signs they send me in the form of rock, leaf and water. Other dragons have been called here for the similar reasons, but I was the first." It feels like he's stalling.
"Why can't I leave?" You ask without thinking. The wildclaw lowers his head and releases a sigh. For several moments he is silent.

"I can't avoid it for too long, can I..? The last dragon to leave our territory was a ridgeback, Gerathon I believe his name was. He was young and very strong, I would think an excellent fighter. He tried to leave." Stoneteller pauses uncertainly, tail swishing slowly. "We.. found his body the day after, right on the edge of the border."

Wait, what?

"A bogsneak who had come just days before reported that he must've fallen and snapped his neck. She'd intended to go as well after hearing his confidence." Your blood ran cold. "But how can it be a coincidence that Gerathon, along with so many other dragons, have always been subjected to the same fate just for wanting to go home? Every time they leave, they die. After they take such a path it refuses to diverge once more." The elder dragon's voice was soft and forlorn.

"I can't stop you from going, but I can warn you. For as long as we have been here, dragons who have left the territory have gone missing or been found dead. No one knows why, but if you cross over the border again, sometime later one of our patrols will find your body. And if they don't.. I doubt anyone will." Oh stars. Oh stars. He could be lying to you. Surely he's lying to you? But Stoneteller's eyes have that same sympathy in them that Clinton did before. You can't detect even a hint of deception as he raises his sable tail and points to one of the many exits, and you pick up a note of gentleness.
"Enter that tunnel, then go through the second one down on the left. It leads to Gale's den. If you want, he'll help you choose a place to sleep and build a nest." Amber eyes cloud suddenly, staring straight through you. "If you decide you don't wish to stay however.. he will not stop you."

You nod numbly, rising to your feet unsteadily.

"Oh, and just so you know.." As he rises the lanterns again cast a ghostly light against his striped hide. "Do be respectful of the cats around here. They're guests." You nod again, still processing the other new information. Trapped. Possibly no way of contacting friends, family, anyone. You're as good as dead, you think. You force your shallow breath to steady as you walk away towards the tunnel leading to Gale's den, a sudden fearfulness beginning to settle heavy in your stomach.

Stoneteller watches you go, unsurprised by the spectral figure of a muscular, spined dragon following you for a moment, before vanishing as if it had never been there at all. Wingbeats echo as the healer resumes his place upon the highest rock, dwelling on old memories and omens from dragons long passed.