Akhlys

What the younger dragons don't know (and what the older ones never seem to want to mention) is that Akhlys wasn't always so bitter. It's true, she's never been the life of the party, but before all this she was just reserved, and not so quick to aggravate.

As a Plague Dragon coming into a Nature Clan at a young age she never... never really felt like she had a place. The only Pearl Catcher, she would find a quiet corner with her pearl, watching the rest of her... Clan... go about their menial tasks.

Prometheus came along, the first of her own kind that she'd seen in ages. Akhlys took a very mild interest in him, helping him to understand what he was and priming him for what he would become in the future. That was the start, when she'd first begun to step out of her shell.

Mal was different. He, too, was younger than Akhlys, but he wasn't like a little brother (or, gods forbid, her son), not like Prometheus. Mal had only ever known his home turf, and came from a big family that just grew, and grew, and grew. Nature Dragons share a love of things that grow, most assuredly, and Mal could spot her growing interest in things from a mile away.

It was Mal who encouraged her to take interest in more than just Prometheus, more than just her pearl. It was Mal who made cheesy, endearing comments about the world being her oyster, if she so chose it. Mal who encouraged her, through small steps, to get to know more of her own Clan.

It was true that she became more civil with Clan mates, perhaps even friendly with some, but Mal had, relatively, become her best friend. He never pried into her business, never bemoaned her learned reclusiveness, never chastised or questioned her loyalty to her pearl. He had helped her grow into her community, and she had genuinely grown to like him.

Speaking of growth, there came a time when Akhlys and Mal decided it was time to help the Clan grow a little bit on their own. They were blessed with a small nest - just two eggs - and Akhlys even managed to express that she had "never been happier".

But growth isn't just about expanding. Clans may get larger, but there's a general understanding that not all who are born there are likely to stay - quite a distance from her own birth place, Akhlys understood this pretty well. Mal and Akhlys' children grew - a son and daughter, Pearl Catcher and Tundra respectively - and as time went on they made their way away from the couple's watchful eyes. They were proud parents, feeling they had made their contribution to the world and to each other.

Days passed, and Mal had come to make a very big decision. A big decision that made Akhlys a little uneasy, but as much as she didn't like it, she had grown to know him and his nature very well. She understood his desires, and took time to make peace with them.

"Don't feel badly, sweet Akhlys, this is an honor," he had told her, his great maw in a handsome grin. "You'll see the kids, won't you? Send them my best, dear Akhlys."

That was the last she'd seen of Mal, bounding into the forest to serve his Gladekeeper.

But Akhlys didn't return to her moody solitude all at once - after all, she still had Prometheus, and children. It warmed her a little, the thought of having little pieces of their family, little pieces of him she'd set out to see.

That is, until she heard.

"I'm so sorry, Madam, Pastel... he is not here anymore. He's gone."

"Nom? I think I remember a Nom. I don't think she's still around here, though."

The Windsinger. By some twist of fate - one that Akhlys would call sick - both of their children had been chosen to serve under the Windsinger within the same week. No notice, no goodbye, no legacy to leave behind.

Nothing of Mal had been left behind.

She returned to her Clan, and almost immediately everyone knew not to ask. No one was certain if it was true that she'd warbled her woes into the ear of Prometheus in the dead of a starless night, and no one felt right trying to confirm that anyone but her knew what the matter was.

If you asked another member of her Clan how she was doing, a less wise or younger dragon might say that she's distant or stand-offish, easy to anger and best left alone. The young ones, they fear her - for all that she is of the gawky, preening, Pearl Catcher variety, they fear the glint in her red eyes, the clutch of her paws around her pearl.

Elder dragons think they know a little about her troubles, but they do not know the extent of what she feels. They do not know the chill of her blood when they trek to the coast to see Vey, Mal's sister and only remaining nest mate. They do not know the envy she feels when delighted parents receive trinkets and tales from their children abroad. They do not know the gloom that sets in when proud pairs welcome healthy batches of bouncing babies, and the sorrow she feels when she wonders if she'll ever have a nest of her own again.

She knows she's not ready.