Tempest

Grandchild of Kestrad's progens and a G4 Naomi through Erroneous's line

--

Tristana shot through the air through sheer force of will alone, her aching wings protesting with every flap, struggling with the added weight and resistance of the hatchling clutched squirming in her claws.

Her son. One of her sons, the only one she'd managed to grab on her escape. Bile churned up her throat, exhaustion mixed with a fresh wave of grief for her other child. She pressed on. Below her, the trees had changed from the bare, sickly rotten shells of the Plaguelands to the ethereal blue glow of the Starwood Strand. She was so close now, to the safety of her parents' clan, behind their great ward through which no Shade or evil could pass. Just a bit further...

..and there! The subtle flicker of magic marking their clan border, that only her bloodline and those specially trained could see. Tristana mustered the last of her strength and flung herself through--

--and shrieked as her momentum suddenly vanished, dropping her like a stone. She flapped furiously, trying to slow her fall, but it wasn't enough. Instinctively she flipped, curling around her hatchling as they crashed through glowing blue branches, absorbing the shock of their impact against the ground with her body.

She wasn't sure how long she laid there, stunned until a small head nudged against her face. Her sweet hatchling stared down at her, chirping with concern. Tristana clawed through the fog in her head and rolled to her feet, swallowing a yelp as her back jolted with pain. She had to get them to safety first - then she could worry about rest and healing.