Gwyr

An evening rain pattered on the hard packed dirt outside the cave. Two hachlings, fresh from their eggs, sat at the edge separating the watery grey world from the dry, amber speckled dark of their den. Both the young dragons were pink with green wings, and both were fascinated with the dance of droplets on dirt. And also with the dance of their older sibling.

"Rain, rain, rain!" Cried the lanky young Skydancer, wings and limbs flailing as they leaped from one mud puddle to the next. "Who doesn't love the rain? With mud on your feet, the water so sweet, rain! Rain! Rain!"

The young Skydancer stuck out their tongue and shlurrped exaggeratedly at the air.

Two tiny heads tilted, curious. One of them was already as large as a horse's head, the other so small it made the other hatchling look fully grown. The smaller one inched forward, frills quivering, towards the rain.

It stuck out it's tongue. A single fat raindrop splashed as it landed on right on target. The hatchling's eyes went huge. It reared in shock, flaring it's frills as it fell back into the den. "Gwyr." It said as it fell, voice as toneless as it's frills were expressive. "Gwyr."

The larger hatchling reared, snarling and unfurling it's wings as it put itself between it's sibling and the thing that'd frightened it. "Go way!" It roared, or rather squeaked at the downpour. "Away!"

A true Guardian's heart, Othwyrd thought as she watched from further back in the cave. Armored fins not yet even dried and hardened, and already the hatchling knew it was meant to protect and defend, to watch over and ward. It might share the same soft colors with it's sibling, but Othwryd could already see the dragon it would someday become. Strong and true. Sure to succeed at guarding whatever Charge lay at the end of it's life's search.

That day was a long way off, even so, it should have made Othwyrd smile to imagine it. Instead she she felt her forehead tighten with a frown.

Outside, the young Skydancer paused and glanced over at her. They didn't need to see her frown, really. And a second later they threw back their head and trilled-

"Small mooooom! Giant mom's in a funk again!"

-before twirling in a circle, making the hatchlings tumble and shriek as more evil water splashed into the cave.

A frilled head poked from one of the unfinished amber roosts dotting the cave walls. Gshar, sticky with fresh sap, flicked her frills and turned to stare at Othwyrd.

Othywrd smoothed her snout, trying to look calm. "I am in no funk."

Gshar leaped from the roost anyway, gliding over to land on Othwyrd's nose. Her frills stood up sternly, but the slight quiver at their tips spoke of amusement.

"Are too." The tiny Fae said, voice as flat as ever.

Careful not to dislodge her, Othwyrd shook her head. "Am not."

"Are." Gshar ran small claws down one of Othwyrd's eye ridges. "Why."

Othwyrd could not keep her eyes from flicking to the front of the cave and the hatchlings now trying to roll the water off themselves.

Gshar followed her gaze. Head frills pinned back. "Gwyr." She called, clear voice cutting through the dull thrum of the rain. "Careful of Gmar. She's smaller, remember."

The larger hatchling glanced around just in time to keep from accidentally rolling onto the smaller one's wing. "Be careful!" It agreed, rolling safely away from it's sibling.

Turning back to Othwyrd, Gshar flared her frills again, flashed pale exasperated colors. "Stop frowning. She needs a name."

Othwyrd could not help her frown. "We Guardians find our name when we find our Charge." She argued, softly enough that the hatchlings would not hear. "It is the way, always, how we become known. To name a hatchling..."

"Is practical." Gshar said, though her frill colors began to darken again, sympathetic. "Her sister has one. Or should we leave her out." Wings dipped in question. "Of all her family. Only her with no name."

"... no." Othwyrd admitted. "No. That would make her sad."

Small claws ran down her face again, this time following the ridges of her frown.

"This is not a true Guardian nest." Gshar pointed out. "Not a true Fae nest. Gwyr won't spin a roost. I can't teach her. But I'll give her a name, and she can have another name someday, from you or whoever. One name or two. There's no limit."

Slowly, Othwyrd let Gshar press the tense lines from her brow. "I suppose that is true. It is not normal, though."

Gshar sat back, wings fluttering with laughter. "Not normal. How sad."

"Sad." Echoed a miserable voice from the floor. Both of them looked down to see Gwyr plodding over, dripping wet with an equally sodden Gmar sprawled across her back. "Rain BAD."

They were a pitiful sight, and Othwyrd felt terrible for having to fight back a smile. "Hush." She soothed, leaning down as Gshar dove to the hatchlings. "Rain will not hurt you. And we are here to warm you up, and so is Tranth."

"Tranth." Gshar called, herding the htchlings into the dry grass of Othwyrd's bed as Othwyrd herself draped her thick beard over them all like a blanket. "Get your feathers over here."

Tranth trotted into the cave, dripping like a living waterfall. "My feathers." They announced proudly. "Are SOAKED!"

Gmar, hidden safely between Othwyrd's beard and Gshar, flicked her wing rudely.

"You just wait- I'll teach you both to love the rain." Feathers poofed as Tranth shook the worst of the water out, spraying it everywhere. "The dance of the rain drops. Plip plop, plip plop.... splat!"

"Blegh." Grumbled Gwyr, burrowing into the grass until only her nose tip stuck out. "Nope."

Othwyrd chuckled, could not help herself, and spread a wing over her soggy family. A Guardian hatchingly already with a name was certainly strange. But, well, it was much more convenient than constantly saying 'you there' and having every single un-Charged Guardian within earshot pipe up 'yes?' each time.

"Gwyr." Othwyrd rumbled happily. "Gmar. Tranth."

Somewhere below, Gshar's wings rattled with silent but obvious laughter.