Ametrine

Earth churned beneath the young Imperial's claws, a testament to the fragility of the land. It was almost disappointing, how the Shadowbinder's creation could be so malleable. She had to admit that it served her well tonight.

Ametrine heaved aside mushrooms and tangles of roots, one by one all into a pile by the side. Perhaps some are edible, she thought. She wouldn't mind bringing something home to the others; with everyone else always providing the night's dinner, she felt as though she should find something to give. No matter - she had something to give to the Wispwillow Grove tonight already.
With soiled claws, she brushed her mane out of her face, ignoring the dirt that got caught in it. Ametrine sifted through the teal grass before her hand caught what she was looking for.
She held the glittering egg up to the little light there was. It weighed heavily in her grasp, and thrummed gently with power unseen. If she focused, she thought she could feel something pressing against the shell. At least, she wanted to. She didn't know if the dragon inside had developed enough to do so. She turned it around in her hands, examining it for any missed cracks. No, all good.
With a heavy heart, Ametrine stared down at the hole she had made. It was just deep enough to house her cargo, with enough room at the top to hopefully prevent it from being crushed underfoot. She hoped, however, it wouldnt suffocate the dragon once it hatched. She didnt want to think about that very much.
All at once, she wanted to take it as her own, run away with this child and never look back.

Never tell her friend.

The expression they had made was burned into her mind. The look of longing across their face, the regret that they had shown in their tears.
Take my baby somewhere it can be safe. Somewhere it can be loved. Those were the words that echoed through Ametrine's head.
The Lightweaver's nation was no longer one of peace. Tensions had strewn too high between the Sunbeam Ruins and Shifing Expanse; lightning was apathetic in where it struck, and mercenaries were soon to follow in its wake. Neither was any place for a hatchling, and they both knew it. The Tangled Wood was not most people's first choice of safety (oh, how she wished she could be in the loving winds of the Plateau), but it was the closest. Nobody had paid mind to the stray Shadow dragon travelling through, not even to look at what she carried in her satchel. All she could hope was that the Shadow clan would take the hatchling and raise it as their kin. All she could do was hope that they defied her anxieties. She pushed down the possibilities that flooded through her mind and began to pile earth onto the lone egg.


The Sunportal can't be far.

It felt like she could feel the burning presence of the egg behind her. Ametrine's vision grew blurred, her movements sluggish. She needed to flee. She needed to escape this. She could hardly bare the thought of the hatchling being left in the dirt, left to suffocate, more likely someone's meal than child. Her heartbeat rushed through her ears.

The Sunportal can't be far.

She could still hear her friend's wails into the night. She recalled how she had pushed a claw to silence her in case the wrong person heard; crying could be deadly nowadays. She remembered her trek to the Moonportal, her optimism that it would all somehow be okay, how it had faded with every step into the darkness of the grove.

The Sunportal can't be far.

Her chest tightened. She realized that she didn't know what breed of dragon it would be, how it would grow up (if it was lucky) without ever knowing its parents, how it would navigate the world out of its element and into a broken territory.
Ametrine hadn't thought that she would grieve. It wasn't her egg, after all. She was simply doing a friend a favour. And yet, she wished the Sunportal was further. So, so much further. She stood at its base, looking into the land of light.

Stepping through, the only light she saw was that of a strike of lightning before a figure came towards her.
Ametrine relished in the thought that she could join the egg in darkness.