Polar

“Hey. Polar is staring off into the distance again.” Foxglove whispered, bumping against Popsicle. The Skydancer turned her head, and indeed, the light blue Imperial was staring at nothing again, standing at the edge of the hill. “He's always doing that. Why?” The Auraboa looked at them. The Skydancer sighed softly. “I'm not sure, Foxglove. Maybe he can sense something in that direction, or maybe he's just resting his gaze.” The snake-like dragon grimaced, “Resting his gaze? Sure. If resting your gaze over 8 times a day was a believable excuse. Seriously, why does he keep doing that? Does anyone in the clan know?” Before the older could respond, the Auraboa narrowed her eyes, “Has anyone in the clan ever even heard him speak? I know I didn't.” Popsicle sighed again, “Look, Foxglove, it's... Complicated. From what Resonantiem told me, Polar's been through some stuff. They didn't explain a lot, but from what I've gathered... He used to have hatchings. I don't know if they were his or not, but something happened in the Southern Icefield, and the hatchlings... Well. No one knows what happened to them. The wind, plus all the snow swirling around them made it so that keeping track of the babies was near impossible.” Foxglove was quiet.

From his spot on the hill, Polar shifted slightly, flicking one ear in their direction. Still, he kept his eyes glued on the same spot.

The Auraboa stretched their neck, or rather, their whole body to try and see what he was looking at. She let her eyes flicker between the trees, the Water Flight's territory, the Twisting Crescendo, and finally... “Hey Popsicle? Isn't that where the Southern Icefield is? Right there?” She jerked her head towards where she was looking, and the Skydancer moved closer.
Nearly lost to the distance, a pale blue expanse could be seen, just barely peeking over the Windswept Plateau. “...It is.” Foxglove glanced at the Imperial, “So he's just staring at the Southern Icefield.” Popsicle nodded, stretching her neck to try and get a better look. “Yep”. The ancient hissed softly, “We should go. I'm... I don't want to bother him.”
The purple Skydancer nodded, turning away. “Let's go. You said you wanted to go talk to Bedlam?” Foxglove nodded, sighing, “Well, actually, she's the one who wanted to talk to me. But instead of staying and talking right then and there, she told me we needed to talk, then flew off giggling, like, seriously, who does that-” The two dragons walked away, their conversation getting fainter and fainter as they moved.

Polar's ears twitched in their direction one last time. He shifted his weight again, his tail slid across the floor to drape over his shoulders. He hadn't failed. The hatchlings were still out there, somewhere in the Southern Icefield. Probably with his siblings. He settled down, lying on the grass with a huff. Cold air billowed out of his nose, floating in front of his face before dissipating under the morning sun.

He was given a second chance. He had to make good use of that.

He had to find the hatchings.