Feral

Assassin trainee, not yet proficient at stealth or subtlety but scoring fairly high at ruthlessness.

Feral was found and named by Sir Mise. She hatched from a nest between a fae and a spiral, who had pushed their shaggy hatchling away in horror the moment her eggshell cracked. Forced to survive on her own from the very start, she grew clever and strong yet missed a lot that other hatchlings would have learnt. She knew no language, and shied away from other dragons when she wasn't aiming to rob them.

Upon discovering a dragon as furred and odd-looking as herself, she let her guard down in surprise. He was her kind, yet somehow there was an elegance to his step, and that made him something else entirely. Where she was shaggy and had weird splashes of white, his mane was flowing and mottled like sunshine through branches. His wing-arms were grasping tools and bending undergrowth away as he lowered his head to sniff the ground. Satisfied with what he'd found, he cast a look behind him -right into her eyes, at which point she realized she wasn't very well hidden at all. With a casual shrug, he spread his arm-wings wide and effortlessly scaled the northern cliff wall.

Looking wistfully at her own stubby wings, she realized all the effort she'd put into flight training every evening had been a complete waste of effort. The limbs she had grown to dislike so much were never meant to soar through the skies; the white dragons' wing-arms were the same, and he was using them the way they were always meant to. His movements had been so graceful she found herself proud and hopeful to have found her kind. She was a real dragon breed, not just some mutated freak! Realizing he might be her only chance to learn about herself, she hurried towards the cliff he had scaled. It was steep. Spreading her wing-arms wide, she tried to do as the white dragon had, but her limbs were shorter and he must have been very well trained.

After scrabbling at the base of the cliff wall for so long that the sun had gone to sleep, barely reaching a few body lengths up each time, there was a gentle sound from the driftwood beach behind her. Sweaty and partly stuck in her tangled, matted fur after a tumble, she went to take a look in case something edible had washed up.

Sir Mise, known to his friends as Fade, was out scouting for a mission when he first saw her. Bedraggled, skinny to the point where her hips were sharp as razors beneath the shaggy fur, of which some had fallen out. The poor thing had stared at him without moving until he was out of sight, possibly terrified. Sitting at a vantage point and taking in the landscape, he considered his options. Sure, he had been seeking an assistant for some time now, and he did want someone with as blank a slate as possible so that he could train them his way. But she seemed like a lot of trouble. He'd have to tame her from scratch.

Looking down, he could see she was still at it, leaping at the cliff wall and grappling it as well as she could. Her claws had never been cared for and were blunted. She obviously did not have any technique, and her meagre power was running out. But with such tenacity, a mind to never give up... he smirked as she tumbled again. She reminded him of someone, long gone yet still with him. That decided that, then. Unwrapping his glider from its shoulder holder, he smoothly traversed the early-night breeze. Upon landing, some distance away, he kicked up some debris so as to not spook her. He knew how prone dragons were to fleeing when he silently appeared behind them.

Months later, after much effort, Feral was introduced to the clan of Crystal Springs. She is still learning how to speak and read properly, but her hunting skills are valued by her clanmates.