Skald

---

The wind howled like a wolf, swirling eddies of snow clouding the sky. Cold seeped through the walls, crystallizing his bones into easily shattered things; but he didn't mind. He had weathered such storms many times before, and preferred the frigid wind to the intolerable heat of warmer days.

Skald adjusted his head on his paws, his shaggy coat brushing against the carpeted floor. This was a fierce one - he hadn't seen a snowstorm like this in three years at least, maybe more. It would be a pain to dig himself out of his den and to the surface, what with all the snow piling up outside. It couldn't be helped, though- such were the whims of nature. You couldn't really complain about a few storms now and again when she also provided you with water, food, and life.

He felt his eyelids growing heavy; the flames that he had stoked in his fireplace murmured, lulling him. Orange light danced across the walls, weaving with and within the shadows, both soothing and mysterious. The gaoler let out a contented sigh through his nose, settling into a more comfortable position. Ah... a nice evening for some rest...

He was on the edge of dreams, a sleepless yet restful place, when he heard the scream.

Skald jerked upright with a start, all of his senses snapping awake. He tilted his head in the direction the noise had come from, flicking his ears forward. The fire still danced merrily in the hearth, giving no indication that anything out of the ordinary was going on. Its warmth suffused Skald with reassurance, and he untensed a little, still listening. A moment passed... another...

It came again. The faintest of calls, desperate and fearful, pleading for help.

His shoulders set with determination, Skald grabbed supplies, moving quickly - a blanket, a lantern, an ice pick. He had done this before. It would be dangerous, but he was glad to risk his life for another. Turning to the door, he snatched goggles from a hook on the wall, strapping them on before grasping the frigid doorhandle and pulling it open.

A wave of snow cascaded inside, covering the gaoler in a matter of seconds. Undeterred, he spat out a mouthful of ice and started to dig his way through, tunneling up and forwards. His talons turned numb and his fur became plastered with sleet, but still he dug, powering through the packed drifts relentlessly. Scoop, push, step. Scoop, push step. Scoop, push, step. The rhythm engraved itself into his bones; a minute passed, then two, then three. He started to shiver, his coat soaked with freezing water.

At last, he broke through the surface.

Grey light filtered through the clouds above, barely illuminating the forest around him. He shook himself like a dog, chunks of congealed snow flying out in all directions. He could barely see-or hear- with the wind blowing the flurries almost sideways, but he planted his feet and listened, straining against the wind. Where are you, lost one? Where could you be?...

..."Is anyone there? I- can't... see! Hello? Help! Please!"

The yell echoed from his right; he turned, delving through mountains of crystallized white, flakes of ice pricking against his skin. He took a deep breath, preparing to shout back, before opening his mouth and roaring as loud as he could over the wind: "I AM HERE! COME TO ME!"

He couldn't tell if the lost dragon responded, but he kept plowing towards the direction its voice had come from. His muscles started to burn with exhaustion, but he ignored the ache to lie down and rest his limbs. He was almost there - he had to be. He could feel it. With a grunt of consternation, he adjusted the bundle of supplies on his back before preparing to call out again; but before he could, a tiny whimper emanated from a snowdrift directly in front of him. Eyes sharpening, Skald reached out a forepaw, plunging it into the whiteness.

His talons met scales, shivering and ice-cold.

Lowering himself onto his haunches, he dug his other forepaw into the drift, careful to avoid spearing the hapless dragon inside. It was small, with a thin and wiry build - a spiral. It was curled into a tight knot, and barely reacted when he touched it. With as much gentleness as he could muster, the gaoler wrapped his talons around the tiny dragon, pulling it out and immediately wrapping the blanket he had brought around its body. He pulled the bundled creature against his chest, brows furrowing with concern as shivers wracked its frame. He would have to get back inside as quick as he could.

Turning around and following the already half-buried path he had created, he made it back to the entrance of his lair within a matter of minutes. Careful not to jostle the spiral, he quickly delved his way through the suprisingly large amount of snow that had already piled up, using his shoulder to shove his way inside. The fire still danced cheerfully in the hearth, welcoming him home.

Skald worked quickly; still holding the trembling dragon to his chest, he unslung the icepick and the lantern- both unused- from his back, not bothering to take off his goggles. Grabbing some thick furs from his pallet in the corner, he trudged as close as he dared to the warmth of the fireplace, placing the spiral down gently. Assembling the furs into a nest, he picked the little bundle up and deposited it inside of the cocoon, tucking it in tight.

Letting out a deep sigh of relief, he settled down next to the other dragon, dusting the remaining snowflakes from his thick mane of fur. The little one would need time to recover, but it would be all right- especially if he made some nice, warm soup once it woke up. The thought made him smile. He was glad that he had found it in time. Turning his head, he watched as its shivers slowly subsided; it uncurled slightly from the tight knot it had woven itself into, but it still whimpered fearfully, caught in the throes of some nightmare.

"Ah," Skald rumbled sympathetically. "There is no need to fear anymore, little one. You are safe."

With a squeak of startlement, it awoke, opening its eyes. They were bright, vibrant blue, the color of cloudless afternoon skies. It blinked at him curiously. When it spoke, its voice was both small and hopeful. "Safe?"

"Safe."

It stretched, thin muscles rippling, before wriggling a bit closer to the gaoler's snout. Curling up, it drifted off to sleep with a smile on its face, one minature paw resting on Skald's furry nose.

(Lore from the talented @Dragonglimmer)