Hawkhorn

For an area nestled so far from the Souther Icefields, one wouldn’t have expected there to be any snowfall in the Tangled Wood, let alone a blizzard that layered the brambles with crystal white. The overgrowth of the land kept the inhabitants safe, so long as they kept under the natural shelter, and Ice-borne creatures were undeterred by the milky white covering. Tundras and Gaolers even found the weather delightful. However, for any other beast, the lashing winds and frozen land were nothing less than treacherous.

It was inevitable, someone would get lost on their way home, a hatchling scampering out to investigate, or someone too inexperienced and too hot-headed to recognize the danger. Dragons got lost out in the snow, the cold blanketing their scaly skin and tying them down into the frozen banks. Even the Beastclan, having lived in the Wood longer than any dragon before, were not saved from the cruel storm.

A clan hidden within the Foxfire Bramble had lost a few of their own to the storms, and they new quick something had to be done. Yet their ranks, ones of cold-susceptible dragons if not criminals, were not ideal for the job. Their Tundras were too gentle, they understood the harsh winds would be too much for the souls. Their Ice-borne were not as cooperative, either physically unable to such as the Veilspun Avna, or directly against the idea of work such as the Guardian Lumanosa. The Ice-borne Coatl, Sero, was willing, a shining beacon in their time of need, but his black and white fur would do the lost no good.

The Gaolers were all that was left, a dangerous resort they were left with. Most of their Gaoler friends were unhinged, angry, or simply not fit to take on the task. Yet one stood up, her eyes narrowed with a fiery determinate that was her Flight sake. A Gaoler, dark in color but blossoming with enthusiasm, offered herself as a rescuer. Her Fire-borne heart would keep herself and the lost warm, her kind was adapt to traversing the cold and brambled earth. She pulled on the vest and bore the lamp, setting out as the blizzard began its toll.

Hawkhorn, a Gaoler born within the Magmablood Rebuke, wandered through the snow with her lamp splaying its bright light. In that storm, the lives of the lost were given the chance to live another day.