Oxide

The young dragon exhaled and looked back at her parents. They nodded encouragingly. The large brown guardian smiled kindly down at her. But the hatchling was still scared. She turned and looked at her father, who was now picking through the items provided as a reward. Her mother nudged her forwards gently. The matriarch of the other clan wrapped a massive wing around her and guided her away from the hearth, the fire, and the clan.
Oxide shuffled over the sand, squinting her eyes in the sun which beat down on her back and on her face. She pounded at the metal ore, using her fire to heat and shape it. Her heat couldn't turn the dunes to glass, as the others could, but she was one of the only dragons here who were even remotely good at smithing. She took her job on with pride.

Another part of the clan shouted in the distance, just beginning to take down the tents and shelters furthest from the center, preparing for the evening's migration. Oxide spotted Cetus lifting the heavy stones and the spirals twisting and dancing away with the burlap and cotton which provided shade and relief from the burning sun. Oxide's tangerine eyes watched her clan's cerulean ones as they zig-zagged around the camp, the thundercracks and hearty laughing announcing the end of their afternoon nap.

Oxide kept her eyes on her clan, filled with energy and loyalty and love, as she twisted the iron in her claws