Gavilon

On a lonesome cliff in the windswept tundra, a lone Mirror climbed toward the ground, a squealing baby Skydancer held tight in his jaws.

Velnok the thief was not usually in the business of kidnapping. It was dirty work, for one, and he didn't go in for killing or maiming or making mothers wail-- nor did he cherish the thought of facing a mother who might catch him in the act. But given the choice between stealing a baby to stand in for the missing prince of his clan or being torn to shreds by Murnigh and his cronies, who needed the prince (or a lookalike) for their coup, he'd choose stealing the babe.

"I wonder," he thought to himself, "if I'd kill to save my own hide. That's a hard question to answer. Well, unless we're talking Murnigh, I'd rip out his scarred throat if it would keep his kind off the throne. That's practically a public service."

Lost in such wondering, he barely noticed when the babe stopped his squeaking and hung still, dangling in his grip. The tiny Skydancer gathered his wits as they trudged away, far from everything he knew. His captor could only pin his wings so long...

Another hour of flight and the babe caught his chance. Distracted by a surprise updraft, Velnok's grip loosened. Moving faster than one would think a fledgling could, the little one struck, biting down hard on his lower jaw. Velnok was so surprised he dropped the child.

The baby plummeted into the thick mist below, falling fast to earth. After prolonged restraint and at such a height and speed, he couldn't hope to fly, but he managed to spread his wings such that he glided safely, if not very gracefully, into the top of a towering pine.

Climbing to the earth, he swiftly found a hiding place in a crevice between some rocks and roots. He intended to remain watchful for pursuit but fell asleep in minutes.

Hours passed. Velnok halfheartedly looked for the small dragon, but finally decided that, with his life forfeit if he returned without the captive and worth very little if he found him (he never should have broken his own code, and now he was paying the price), he would self-exile somewhere far away rather than face Murnigh's wrath.

The baby woke up, stretched his wings, and breakfasted on some moss growing on the rock he'd spent the night under. Much bolstered by his own resourcefulness, he gazed across the trees and rocks before him.

And struck out to begin his search. He would find his home, or he would find other dragons who could lead him home. And if he ran into that nasty Mirror again, well! He flexed his tiny claws. He'd not be caught unawares a second time. He strutted across the moss-flecked earth in no particular direction.