Amun

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Credit for second art goes to the ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC Rashakiro!!!

It was dark. So dark... a bit stuffy, too. Amun opened his eyes... to more darkness. He raised one talon in front of him and it bumped up against something cold and hard, but so smooth it could not have been natural.

"Where..." He croaked, his voice hoarse from lack of use. Amun cleared his throat and tried again.
"Where am I?" The sound fell flat almost immediately. Did Russel lock me in the closet again? He sighed and shoved at the thing in front of him with all his strength, heaving it aside with a grating of stone on stone. It was so heavy, and it didn't help that he felt so stiff.. and cold. Definitely not in the closet... Amun sat up, his joints creaking slightly. Torches flared to life all around him and he jumped, eyes wide as he stared around. The light hurt his eyes but helped to reveal the cavern he was in.

"Burial chamber..." Amun whispered, then he climbed out of the stone box he had been lying in. A coffin. A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat as he weaved between the other coffins, heading towards the door. His wrappings trailed on the ground behind him, leaving clean streaks in the thick dust. Not that he noticed. No, Amun's attention was on Russel, whom he planned to strangle the moment he saw him. Locking Amun in the closet was fine. Maybe even the rat guts in his breakfast. Knocking him out and putting him in the chambers? That was SEVERAL steps too far.
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Hatchlings scattered when they saw him, yelps of surprise and terror filling his ears. Strange... he didn't recognize these little ones.
"Russel!" He snarled, marching right up to Russel's den and pounding on the door. A disgruntled looking Tundra with close cropped fur and coal black stones embedded in his fur and scales - gembound - opened the door and he glared at the snarling, bandaged up and bloodied Pearlcatcher standing in front of his door.

"The dragon you're bellowing for has been missing for ten years." The Tundra looked the stranger up and down, then snorted disdainfully. "Looks like you've been dead for longer. Lost your pearl too, I see. The dead aren't welcome in this village, so I suggest you get out. You're not supposed to walk again."

Amun recoiled, stepping back a pace. He wasn't dead... he was sure of it. He just... didn't... breathe? Amun backed away further, and the Tundra slammed his door shut once again.

"I'm not dead.." He whispered softly to himself, then he glanced down at his talons and made a fist. His scales seemed... duller than he remembered them. Growing worried, Amun spread his wings and flew behind an outcropping of rock where no one could see him. He placed two talons to the side of his throat just below his jaw, feeling for a pulse.
...................
Nothing.

What he did find was a long, gaping wound there, and he shuddered as he followed it with his talons. He could almost feel the claws of some dragon carving through the soft scales of his underbelly and throat, ripping him from where the wound began all the way down and across his shoulders.

Amun doubled over, holding his head in his talons as memories began flooding his mind.

War. Fighting. Fighting side-by-side with Russel, in fact. The smell of blood and death was all around, and as he turned around he saw a massive, white leopard spotted Guardian launch herself at Russel. Amun felt himself leap in the Guardian's path, felt her claws tearing into him right along the wound he had found. Searing, excruciating pain exploded along his neck. A blurry image of the Guardian standing over him, his pearl gripped in her bloodied talons. He could hear someone - no, him - in the memory begging her not to take it, and then everything went dark.

His eyes snapped open and he stared at the gravelly soil beneath him, stared at the linen wrappings covering his arms, legs, tail, wings, chest, neck and head. Some of them were falling off, exposing flashes of gold, gem, and bone decorations. Medals of war. He glimpsed the purple amethyst heart for death in the service of the Plaguebringer. The gold and diamond cross for saving an ally. Amun shuddered slightly and crouched down, curling up in a ball and closing his eyes again. This was too much to process.
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2 years later

Amun walked through the village, his white linen burial wrappings replaced with fresh black ones. He held his head high, looking unbothered by the whispers that followed him.
As he looked around, a strange feeling of calm settled within him. The dry, dusty plains surrounding the village had such a familiar feel... he paused briefly as the Hunger twisted in his gut, reminding him he needed to eat. It wanted dragons, but he would not let it have its way.

"Deal with it." He hissed under his breath as he paid for what appeared to be roasted meat on a stick. This would have to suffice... oh how he missed when plants and bugs could satisfy him. He ate as he walked, still looking around.

Why was this place so familiar? He couldn't remember ever being here before.