Amaranthine

Button made by the lovely Jyxxie!

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He stops to wave and smile to the departing dragon, but his heart feels heavy as the young guardian takes off. The others are joyous and his denmates are teary-eyed, waving at the gray flanks disappearing over the ridge. Anti knows that they've already done all they can to steer him in the right direction. Dragons have to eventually strike out on their own. But still, it's happened too many times. Too many times since living here in a place specifically meant to shield young dragons from the horrors of war.

He returns to his nest that night feeling cold. He's had ages to make his den perfectly, having lived with the rescue as long as he has, but tonight he just can't get comfortable. The wind is too strong and not at all soothing. He looks down at his claws, the tiny names written there seeming to dance in the halflight. Reading them to himself without thinking, he squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to quell the stone of anxiety sitting in the pit of his stomach, but he knows their names by heart. They burn like green fire on his skin; on his pads and flanks and wing-tips.

Morning finds him sitting stiffly outside the den of other sleeping guardians, the predawn light allowing him to stare over the clifftop into nothing. He hadn't slept. Deep in the night he'd been so afraid for the young dragons that'd left today he'd nearly gone to wake someone else, just so he didn't feel so scared and so terrible as though the earth would swallow him whole and never allow him to see day again. They were so much younger than him that even though he knew it wasn't true he could still see the innocence of hatchlings in their faces, and he couldn't protect them. He'd forced himself to swallow the panic and draw ragged breaths. He'd had his wish, anyway. The sun was just showing its face now.

It doesn't help. His heart races until it stills and is replaced by cold and a shiver of understanding. This time, his fears had been justified.

He can feel the new name writing itself onto his leg before he even looks.

The young guardian is gone.

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