Ecarht

The wind whipping past her mane, loud and screaming in her ears, Ecarht laughs madly into the harsh thunder of the storm, multitudes of wings flapping all in sync, nearly blending in to the harsh, dark clouds in the sky. The cold rain whips at her scales, stinging them, but she flies on happily, waiting for her scout to return, waiting for an opening, waiting for something, doing a terrible job due to her absolute excitement.

You would think the light dragon was completely lightning born, the way she floated seamlessly through the air in the midst of one of the worst storms the clan had seen in a few years. Usually, this would be expected, not an issue, but the worries of a tornado had scared the clan into action. Thus, Ecarht was asked into the fray.

She smiles wickedly as a black speck flutters its way towards her, a raven, seemingly indistinguishable from the rest, lands on her horn. She can't turn her head to see, but all she needs is the direction. She begins a quick trip towards the direction the bird was coming from, gazing carefully at the clouds.

"What'd ya spot lad...? What'd ya spot...." She mumbles to herself, absolutely unhearable to anyone else, even the crow perched none too far away from her mouth.

She feels a beak gently prodding her head towards her left ear. Veer left, got it.

She waits, steering straight unless told otherwise.

She gazes into the clouds, waiting for anything....

She listens to the wind, whipping around her, lighting sparks on her senses.

She feels the wind, the rain, whip at her skin, her scales.

She sees it.

"Aye! We got one formin'! One mile! The wind's-" As they get closer, she gets whipped by a crack of wind that makes her lose her breath. She lets out a couple of gasps, laughing when she catches her breath.

"The wind's fightin' back!! Go!" She orders, and the murder of crows begin to disperse, her leading the charge with a wild laugh.

To expect a dragon, even of Echart's size to be able to stop a tornado, was silly. Even the smallest tornados she tangled with were 50 yards in width on average. But.... She sure as hell could stall the touchdown until it was some other clan's problem. And her little friends were a wonderful help with that.

Their large group amass at the strongest point of the current, spinning with the swirl, just below the spinning cloud cover. All they needed was 10 minutes.... The wind whipping from her wings, the wings of the crows that never left her alone since she was a hatchling, disturbing the flow of the tornado just enough to keep the spin from forming a perfect cone for a couple of miles.

Echart looks to the murder of crows surrounding her, the wave of darkness surrounding her. She can barely see her own wings in the cloud of black wings spanning past her wings. She peeks downward. Home. The cone wouldn't touch down, they would get by easily.

She says nothing, winds terribly loud, no way for words to break past the noise, she just dives, orbiting around the cone in wider spans until she breaks past the slowly decending tornado, now a good half a away from her home.

She takes a bit to touch down, chest heaving with exuberance. She lifts her claw, watching the shaking, laughing at the side effect of the adrenaline. Crows decend around her, flocking to the floor next to her, the trees, on top of her, warming her.

"Aye. Thanks mates." She chuckles, looking her way towards her home.



"Let's walk the rest of the way home, eh?"