Muul

I
The horde had descended over the great carcass at dusk, wing membranes and angrily flared crest glowing with the luminous amber light of the setting sun as the toughest members scrabbled and snarled for the choicest places atop the long-dead Rockback. Perhaps thirst had claimed the once powerful beast, now still and stinking in the heat of the waste.
Muul pushed between her pack mates to snatch at the flank of the beast, but she jerked back as snapping maws nipped at her throat and muzzle. Fluttering back to the cracked earth, she wove around and tried again at it's head, but was only driven away again.
With fresh scrapes on her face and pounding heart, she fell back wearily with the elders and wounded, those long ago cowed into waiting to pick at whatever the pack left. She looked among them and snarled in bitter resentment at an old grey thing that dared to bare his maw at her.
It wasn't them she hated, but how they reminded her of what she was becoming; Her eyesight was going, and she tired so easily; no longer possessing the vitriol to fight for her place at the kill, or to fly and hunt at the front of the pack.
She was tugged from her thoughts then, as the earth seemed to sway beneath her. It must have been the hunger, gnawing at her so long now. She tried to regain her feet, head hanging, but marveled as the pebbles at her feet bounced along the ground, jittering and hopping into the air seconds before panicked shrieking erupted from the horde.
In a matter of seconds, the Rock Back slumped into sinking sand, a few mirrors leaping from the corpse, and then the earth opened it's jaws.
Two mountainous forms burst up from the soil and Muul rolled as the earth lifted up under her feet, claws slipping on shifting dirt as erupted rocks and soil fell hard from the sky. One of the godlike jaws had caught the Rockback and a mouthful of slow mirrors still clinging to the body, the other lunging into the sky in a blur of thrown sand and snapping up several more desperately fluttering creatures.
Muul tried to flee in her horror, the bodies of her companions pushing and packing against her as the horde scattered in blind panic beneath the immense shadow of the hydra.
The pale mirror chanced a look back as the beast sank slowly back into the earth, swallowing up Rockback and dragons alike as it settled from it's lunge, sending the earth trembling with every shift of it's massive form.
The hydra shifted, mottled brown form coiling like a viper over the earth, and it lunged again, head tugging against one another as it snapped up fleeing mirrors from the ground and sky.
Muul screamed as she was knocked asunder by it's powerful lunge, hitting the ground and seething with white pain, trying to draw herself up and barely feeling her shattered wing as she held it out gingerly, wide rosy eyes trying to comprehend the injury and she staggered, slumping back and watching with helpless horror as the beast destroyed the horde.
In a last hope for life, she crawled and then drew herself up into a limping gait as others leapt over and soared around her in their panic.
Her strength waning, she scrambled up the chunk of rock, off of the soft earth, and clung to the shelter of the stone, quivering in deafening terror and blind to the chaos around her.

She clung to the boulder for seconds that passed like hours before, through the rumbling and screeching, she caught the faint, crackling mewls from across the sand.
Trying to focus, she steadied her shaky head to focus on the hatchling, caught frozen on the open sand, crying out aimlessly.
In shock, Muul watched the baby amongst the chaos, a pitching fear stirring in her chest as she rose to injured paws without thinking, teetering unsteadily at her perch, remembering her pain as she splayed her wings for balance, weighing her chances with an fogged mind.
The beast swung about, snatching up any raucous prey, and anything it laid it's sights upon.
Bracing herself, she waited for the heads to swing away in pursuit of another before wriggling her haunches and pouncing out onto the earth, rushing over the earth towards the hatchling.
Halfway to her mark, another dragon bowled into her in their flight, sending them rolling and tangled. She wailed, tumbling over her wings and scrabbling to regain her feet as the other mirror snarled at her. She scrambled up just as the larger head swung about, maw gaping, and bolted hard, her tail just slipping over it's teeth as it caught up the other dragon. She rushed on, and in a last, desperate leap, caught the heavy hatchling up in her mouth, barely breaking her stride as she bounded through the calamity, dodging panicked mirrors and the sways of the Hydra's immense form as she rushed back to the towering bolder. She drew her head to the side and swung the frozen baby up onto the rock before she scrambled up herself, praying they were protected from view by the craggy pillar.
Muul flattened herself to the rock, breathing hard against the cool stone and glancing over the child, its claws dug in hard, silent now with eyes wide in shock.
As the sun sank below the jagged cliffs of the wastes, and the sky tinged a sickly blue, the screeches died into silence.
A scattering of mirrors hung small and faint in the sky, spiraling away in their panic, while others laid scattered and lifeless across the barren plain
Muul drew the trembling hatchling close and kept it's mouth covered gently with her talons the Tunnel Hydra scoured the earth for more prey, coming close and causing the little one to let out a muffled squeak. In the night, the creature was blind and numb to their movements atop the solid stone as it moved about. As long as they were quiet.
As the night stretched on, the behemoth sank slowly back into the earth, leaving only destruction behind, but Muul didn't dare move from her hiding place; she couldn't fly like this, and knew far too well the beast still lingered beneath the earth, waiting, feeling.
Instead, she remained still, exhaustion eventually overwhelming her shock, and she sank into a weary, restless slumber, the hatching protected betwixt her arms.






II
Muul awoke in agony, her battered body reluctant to rouse in the harsh dawn light. She swallowed dryly, wincing and surveying the oddly quiet plain, searching for any sign of the Hydra. Nervous, she tested her wing in hope and hissed; it was certainly broken. At her seething breath, the hatchling stirred, although she was not sure it had even slept.
Even as she moved, the poor thing squeaked and watched her fearfully, inching back to press its blue form closer to her chest, although she could tell it was growing weak, too. They needed off this rock.
“Hush little one.” She breathed, running her tail over his back in a comforting motion. “We must be quiet.”
Muul looked around the plain. There were a few other boulders, scattered in the distance, the far off, dusky mountains, and endless wasteland, but she found her hope in a stand of ancient, crooked trees many lengths away. If they could make it, there would be shelter from the heat and solid ground and what had to be a massive network of old roots; maybe they would shield against the Hydra’s pursuit. And where there was trees, there had to be water, maybe even prey.
“Little one, listen to me.” She whispered to the young dragon, and he craned his head about, meeting her eyes.
“We are going towards those woods, do you see them?”
He gave a slight nod, glancing across the open land and back to her.
“We must go quietly, encase the beast is still beneath the sand. Understand?” He nodded again, looking afraid at her words.
Uncertainly, she nudged her muzzle against his cheek, trying to sooth him. “It will be alright, stay close to me. I will keep you safe.”
Muul inhaled deeply, and then, slowly, the mirror rose on shaky legs, keeping her wings tight against her back.
The hatchling scrambled up, heeding her urgings of silence, but clung close between her front legs, before she picked up carefully by his scruff, his light form weighty in her tired state.
Muul scrambled down the rock, and in her exhaustion, lost her footing and slipped from the rock, hitting the sand with a thump.
Muul tensed hard, every muscle stiffening as she held deathly still, waiting and listening, but there was nothing.
Cautiously, she set the hatchling down beside her, and cast her gaze across the unnervingly still plain before taking a few slow steps forward, the hatchling in tow.
About a quarter of the way to the woods, she felt the ground pitch beneath her feet.
Heart sinking, Muul urged the hatchling on, casting terrified glances over her shoulder as they hurried on.
Rumbles echoed from the soil, the dull thunder growing as Muul abandoned her quiet haste, catching the hatchling up and breaking into a desperate run, sprinting for the copse.
She looked back once, and felt terror speed her heart as the spines of the creature pulled up through the earth, giving way to the mass of the creature’s jaws.
Cool darkness fell over her, and she veered hard seconds before the beast plummeted into the earth next to her. She lost her footing among the spraying rock and sand, but barely touched the ground as she scrambled up and bounded past the winding beast while it regained itself.
Muul dove into a last burst of speed, giving everything she had, focusing only on the trees as the very earth seemed to growl behind them.
She could feel the heavy power of the Hydra closing in, the scattering pebbles striking her hide from just behind, the hot breath over her flank just as her claws sunk into the mossy ground of the copse, barreling into the trees.
The Hydra’s lunge sent the ground shuddering as it plowed into woods, snapping saplings and tearing gouges in the old growth.
Muul staggered as it fell just short of her, but she leapt further into the thicket, stopping only once she was far from its reach. She slowed, harsh breaths wracking her chest as she turned to watch as the monster writhed and turned where it had broken the treeline. Finding no purchase in the tough, crowded forest floor, its frustrated rumblings resounded in her chest and shook the leaves as it slowly drew back, sinking into the earth beyond the copse as the sand swallowed it up once again.

III

Muul blinked open tired eyes to the thumps and fluttering of Newt as he chased a sooty squirrel around one of the old trees. She raised her head to watch him, noting with pride his careful attention, but less so his clumsy use of energy as he rounded the tree fruitlessly.
She felt her heart soar when he finally caught the creature. It had only been a month since they’d been stuck in the copse together, but he was improving greatly. She stood to nuzzle him as he brought the prey over, but she quickly lay down again, finding little strength in her legs to stand anymore.
Newt rounded a circle twice beside her, patting out the grass before he plopped down, pressing his side to hers and settling as he set the squirrel down the share between them.
She watched him eat first; he needed to grow.
Newt had gotten much bigger, but had been gaining weight far too slowly for his age; feeding only on the rodents, bugs, and the odd bird that lived in the shelter of the copse. She’d fed him as well as she could in the first few weeks; it had been the only thing that had kept her going, but hunting had been difficult without the use of her wings, and the prey poor.
She’d been teaching Newt everything she knew; she was loosing strength, and he would have to survive on his own soon. The prey here was barely enough for him, and she was wasting away.
Risking a journey out of the copse, she feared, would be futile with her injured wing, but Newt would be able to fly soon. He could wander, find a new clan or tag onto a horde, he would be okay, she was sure, he was so strong, despite his size.
Finishing several mouthfuls of the squirrel, the young one nudged the prey towards her, glancing up with expectant eyes.
“Eat up, Newt, or you won’t grow.” She chided, swallowing her hunger patiently.
Newt turned his head curiously. “Aren’t you hungry?” He questioned.
“I’m fine, you eat.”
“Are you sure? This morning you said-”
“I’m sure.” Muul dismissed, lying her head on her talons and watching him lovingly through half open eyes as he went back to devouring his catch.
When the hatchling cleaned himself, blue tongue swiping over his claws, Muul spoke up again,
“Newt. I think it’s time you learn to fly.”
She smiled despite herself at how his face lit up with excitement.
“Really?!”
“Your wings are getting bigger, you might be able to manage it.”
She encouraged, clambering up. He followed hastily as she led him to the boulder at the edge of the little clearing.
“Climb up there, she instructed, watching him grapple at the mossy stone for a moment before pushing him up a bit with her muzzle before sitting down beside the bolder.
Hesitantly, Newt moved forward up the boulder, gazing around from his perch. Muul seemed almost small from here, and the ground startlingly far away. Tensing, he crouched and braced himself to leap, but felt unable to actually attempt the jump.
“Go on Newt,” He heard Muul encourage, the old Mirror’s voice crackling from below the rock. He wanted so badly to make her proud, and he moreso to fly, but what if he fell?
Creeping forward, and looking down at Muul, then over the forest floor, before backing up, and charging forward, spreading his wings out.
He wobbled hard in flight, eyes wide in amazement at the sensation seconds before he crashed into bracken and brambles.
Squawking in panic, Newt tried to regain his feet, rolling and stuck on his back.
Muul was at his side almost immediately. Despite his shock, she seemed to find this amusing as he felt her reach around him and pull him onto his side, helping him clamber back onto the dirt.
“I flew, I did it!” He yelped, shaking himself free of foliage.
“Sort of,” Muul chuckled, but quieted at his grumpy expression, smoothing out his crests with the tip of her tail and conceding.
“You did well, it’s a start. Try again.”

Newt attempted many more times; earning his share of scuffs and leaves caught in his claws, but by the time he and Muul had gone to lay down, he felt like he could fly across all of the Scarred Wasteland.
When they lay together, she groomed him gently and for once, he didn’t protest about going to sleep, tuckered out from the exercise.
“So, do you like flying?” Muul questioned warmly.
“I love it!”
“Good. Soon you’ll be able to fly out of here, and go find other dragons.”
Newt glanced at her in confusion. “But I thought you couldn’t fly?”
Muul shook her head, and Newt felt worry creep into his chest.
“You, not me.”
“I don’t want to go alone, Muul, what if I get lost and it gets dark?”
Muul paused to clean some dirt from his cheek.
“You’ll be fine, you’re growing up, and soon you’ll need more to eat than squirrels; you can’t stay here forever.” Muul sounded so calm, but he felt panic fluttering in his heart at the thought of leaving his companion.
“But I don’t want to leave you!” He fretted, what was she thinking? They’d always been together, and she knew so much, how could he go alone?
He felt her tense beside him, and pressed closer.
“Wouldn’t you like to see the rest of the world? There’s so much to explore, and all the food you could possibly eat, if you know where to look.”
“Not without you!” He wailed.
“Shh, shh,” Muul tried to sooth him, but he felt too upset.
“I’m not going anywhere, I want to stay with you!”
Muul tsked, red eyes alright with fire in the fading light, but she wouldn’t look at him, only into the darkness of the treets.
“Please?” He pleaded. “I’ll hunt for us, and watch out for danger, and- and be really quiet, and do everything you say. Please don’t leave me alone.” He watched her hopefully as she glanced back at him, and rested her nose between his crests, pulling him closer.
“Muul?” He questioned, when she stayed quiet, closing her eyes.
“...I’ll try, little one.” She murmured, curling around him. “Sleep, then, we’ve got a long journey in the morning.”

IV

Newt crept carefully through the thorny briars of the boneyard, the musky smell of prey catching his senses and making his stomach pang with hunger as he stalked along the strange hoof prints he’d been following all afternoon.
His crests twitched up as he heard a sudden scuffle, thumps and skittering out of view. He raised his head and hurried up to the fallen log in front of him, creeping cautiously up to look over it. Some distance ahead, he saw strange brown and white animals fleeing from another creature with one of them caught beneath it.
Newt gazed at it curiously for a few tense seconds before realizing it was another Mirror, but clad heavily in armor comprised of furs, scales and spines.
The dragon raised its head from its prey, and Newt flinched down behind the log quickly, holding his breath as he hid from the ruby gaze. Whoever they were, they didn’t look friendly.
Slowly, he peaked up again, but the other didn’t seem to notice him, tearing at the carcass of his prey for a moment before trailing away and disappearing over a ridge.
Intrigued, Newt made his way over the log, and came closer to the prey, but kept a vigilant eye out for the strange dragon.
He watched the horned animal closely, the scent of the freshly killed prey stirring fresh longing in his stomach. He was so hungry, and it wasn’t just him; Muul was so weak.
The mirror would be back any second for his prey, he was sure, and something in his gut told him this was a terrible idea, but Muul would die if she didn’t eat soon.
Bracing himself, Newt rushed forward, catching the horn of the prey in his mouth and dragging it back hurriedly. It was a heavy beast, larger than anything he’d ever caught, but his hunger drove him on across the cracked earth. He made it over the log, and kept going, his heart pounding.
Surely this was wrong; what if the other starved because of him?
He tried not to consider it.
He’d almost made it back to his friend when he saw two shadow-wings appear on either side of him, and had only seconds to turn before he was sent sprawling under claws and muscle.

Redbone raised his head from his kill, breathing hard through his parched throat and gazing about him after the goat had gone still, taking a careful look around for danger before tearing in, thanking the Plaguebringer for his catch, and barely stopping to chew or taste it. Tired from the chase and the heat, he took another careful glance before heading down the slope to where he’d run through a shallow stream to ease his thirst. He sat, leaning to gulp up the lukewarm water greedily for a long few minutes, raising his head when he finally felt sated, and heading back for his food.
His wings drooped in confusion when he found nothing.
He glanced about in confusion; was the heat playing tricks on him?
The mirror sniffed about the earth quickly, only to notice the footprints of a smaller dragon in the soil, and curled his lips up in a snarl, racing after the trail.

When he finally saw the goat, being dragged along by some smallish dragon, he felt anger rise like bile in his throat, running towards them and keeping low before he got close enough to pounce on the theif.
He hit the dragon like a bag of rocks, rolling across the earth as he grappled with them, managing to pin them under foot easily and hissing in anger.
As the smaller dragon struggled under him, he realized in confusion that they were hardly more than a hatchling. His hesitation was short lived however, as he was bowled off his feet with a flurry of white wings and thrown onto the dirt. The attacker tore at him fiercely, scouring his armor and lunging for his throat. Quickly, he twisted and raked his claws down her underside, throwing her off and rolling to his feet, crests aflair as he rounded on her.
He noted with only a glance what terrible shape she was in; her body thin with hunger, and one wing askew. She was either starved or sick, but hissed and flared her wings at him all the same.
He bared his teeth only to be blindsided again by the hatchling, scrabbling at his neck and weighing him down. He made short work of its attack, flattening it again beneath his right foot and growling at the white she-dragon. “Don’t move!”
She halted short of them, watching the hatchling with horror on her face. “Let him go!” She hissed weakly.
Hesitant, he watched the hatchling for a moment before raising his paw and letting it scramble back over towards her.
“You should teach your hatchling not to steal!” He growled.
At this, the white dragon blinked and looked back at the younger, baring her teeth. “Newt...”
“What are you doing out here, all alone?” Redbone grumbled, anger fading slowly at their sorry state.
“I could ask you the same.” Hissed the female, her tale whipping once as she regarded him warily.
Redbone sniffed. “Whatever you’re out here for, I would find shelter, heavy rains are coming this way.”
She glanced back at him, shifting on her feet, seeming to have trouble standing. “...Thank you… Newt, give him back his kill, I taught you better.” She rasped.
The hatchling burst out in protest at this. “But you’re hungry, you need to eat, please,” He wailed.
“Newt!” The elder dragon growled, but burst into coughing as she raised her voice, staggering slightly, and the young one pressed against her to offer support.
Redbone glanced off over the planes, considering before interrupting the two.
“It’s fine. Eat, you look like you could use it.” He snapped.
The old dragon looked up at him with something between hope and distrust in her eyes. “I…”
“It’s fine, I can catch another.” He grumbled dismissively, sitting and watching out over the wasteland while the two hesitantly made their way to the kill.
The older’s hunger showed in full as she began digging into what must have been her first real meal in moons, tearing ravenously and eating so quickly and viciously even the hatchling seemed startled, and stayed out of her way.
When the two had sated their hunger and ate more slowly, he came up to eat across from them, sitting in uneasy silence with the two strangers; his first company in ages, although, they didn’t seem terrible.

Once they were finished, there was hardly more than bones left, which the young one gnawed at with determined focus.
Looking far more at east, the older dragon raised her head to look at him afterward. “If you need shelter from the rain there is a good cave, about a mile back. Would you like to come with us, to wait out the storm?”
Redbone watched her quietly, a little surprised, but nodded gratefully, feeling awkward around the two after so long alone. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for sharing your kill. I wouldn’t have lasted much longer. I’m sorry for what Newt did.”
Unsure how to respond, Redbone only grumbled in response, getting to his feet.
“What’s your name?”
“Redbone...Bone is.... Alright too, I suppose.”
She nodded.
“Muul. And this is Newt.”

V

“So that’s how we ended up here, It wasn’t sure how we’d make it, but Newt kept me going.”
Newt raised his head from the bone he’d been gnawing at as Muul gave his head a gentle nuzzle, blinking at his adoptive mother lovingly.
The sheets of rain came down in a dull roar at the mouth of the cave, only broken up by the crashing of distant thunder over the wasteland.
“How did you come to be alone out here?” The white dragon questioned, resting her head on her paws and watching Bone across the cavern.
The other shifted where he lay, his pale hide shimmering grey-blue in the stormy light as he turned to them again, giving an unhappy grunt.
Newt had hoped to see more dragons; it had just been him and Muul for so long, but now that they had another companion, he couldn’t wait to get rid of him. Muul seemed to trust him, but he wasn’t sure why.
“I was with the forces of the PlagueBringer; exalted by my clan. I was badly injured a while back. They left me to die. I’ve been surviving alone since then.” Bone revealed gruffly.
“You are strong to have overcome that.” Muul nodded in respect.
“We must all be strong to live and breath in this place.” The newcomer conceded.
“Where will go from here?”
“I’m searching for my army, but any clan I could fight for would be enough. And you?”
“I hope that we might find a home… somewhere. I want little else anymore.”


When the rain had died off into gentle drizzles, Newt poked his head from the maw of the cave, surprised by the droplets that pattered on his head, while the others strode past him into the murky light.
Muul stretched while he hopped past her, startling himself as he landed in a puddle, spraying droplets about.
The she-dragon hissed as she was freckled with mud, and he curled his tail around himself, about to apologize before he saw her snarling grin.
With a leap she sprung into the pool and soaked him with mud, breaking into laughter at his shock.
Newt frowned and slapped his tail down, splashing her back and tearing off before she could get him again, and she bounded after him in pursuit while he laughed wildly.
“Come here, you!” With a bound she tackled him into the mud, nipping gently at his crests in play while he scrabbled at her, smacking her face with muddy paws.
She recoiled, making teasing nips at him while he bounced back, swatting at her and chuckling hard as he bounded away again.
“Can’t catch me!” He teased.
He glanced back to see her chasing after him, seconds before she crumpled to the ground, felled by an arrow in her chest.
Newt slowed to a halt, frozen in shock as the other cried out, trying to get to her feet.
“Muul?” he squeaked, watching as Bone stiffened up, looking in shock at the centaur that stood at the edge of the ridge.
Its face was twisted in a snarl, hand reaching back to tug free another arrow, centering in on him.
Newt froze in terror, wings wilted at his side as the thing took aim seconds before he was slammed into the ground.
Muul knocked him down hard as the arrow hit the dirt with a thunk, and he scrambled up to see Bone lunging for the beast, his stomach turning in fear as he looked over Muul and saw the scarlet running down her muddy white hide.
As Bone tackled the centaur, and the two disappeared over the ridge, Muul took a couple steps forward, standing over him protectively and breathing hard, watching the hill.
“Muul?” He questioned again, increasingly frantic.
“Muul we have to run!” he urged when she didn’t answer him, but she only slumped into a sitting position as the sounds of struggle echoed off the stony earth.
“You’re hurt!”
“Yes.” She responded, but only shifted to lay down unsteadily beside him.
Bone returned hurriedly, scrambling over the ridge towards them, an arrow lodged in the armor of his hip, but he moved without hindrance, his maw stained red as he spoke.
“It was a Beastclan scout, there’s likely more coming, we have to go.” He growled, but seemed to hesitate as he looked over Muul.
“Can you get up?”
Muul only shook her head, her eyes half-lidded.
“Muul? Come on,” Newt urged his friend.
“Newt, we must go.”
He heard Bone’s gravelly voice, but he could only snarl back in protest.
“No, we can’t leave her!”
“Newt,” Muul spoke up softly, raising her muzzle to touch his cheek from where she lay on her side.
“Go with Bone, it’ll be okay.” She assured.
“Muul, no,” The younger whimpered. “Please don’t leave me.”
“I’m sorry Newt... You’ll be okay, you’ve gotten so strong.” She promised, resting her head on the ground.
Newt nuzzled into her, not ready to leave.
“Muul…” He pleaded, pressing his forehead to her cheek.
She ran her tail over him soothingly, then grew still.
“Muul? Muul!” He cried, trying to nuzzle her awake.
“The PlagueBringer will watch over her. We must go, Newt.”
“No, we can’t!” the younger sobbed in protest.
“She fell watching over you, you think she’d want you to die anyway?” The elder growled and he tensed, the words stinging him deeply as he watched Bone turn, heading off quickly alongside the ridge.
He looked back at Muul sadly, heart aching as he bounded off sullenly after Bone.