Glowwyrm

I promised when I left you that I would write, and writing I am doing. The clan that has taken me in has been kind so far. On arriving, I first encountered a strange individual at the edge of the clan territory. He did not speak, but beneath his cowl I got the feeling that he was examining me, scrutinizing. He smelled like the wilds and old faded magic, but I could not tell if he smelled like friend. My escort to the clan, an Earth Snapper back from a pilgrimmage to the Dragonhome, merely lumbered onwards when I asked who he was. Snappers are not the fastest at answering questions, I found out.

My curiosity about the lone dragon persisted when I got to the clan. I was told that I would be given some time to settle in and find my name and calling by Fortify, the second-in-command. (The matriarch hardly ever ventures from her den, except to tell us of the coming [mis]fortunes.) I asked Fortify who the lone dragon was, and apparently this was a mistake, because he looked curiously at me as if he was long unused to being asked questions. He did not answer until the next day, when I found some armour similar to yours, Mama, at the side of my den.

Now here is a curious thing: it seems no one would answer my questions about the lone dragon because he is something of a taboo, despite smelling undoubtedly of this clan. I had figured out by now that we were not to speak of him; in fact, only one dragon was willing to even acknowledge his existene, and that was Vortex. Vortex is one of the strongest battlers in the clan, and she smells like it for sure! She took me that morning after I had put on the armour, and without a word guided me to the edge of the territory, almost to the river that divides the land from the Hewn City. We waited there, until through my helmet the stink of Shade and meat was joined by another, gently caressing my sniffers: old magic, and loneliness. The lone dragon had approached Vortex, greeting her with a dip of his head and gently nuzzling her armoured snout. Without warning, Vortex bounded away, leaving me alone with the lone dragon.

I hazarded a couple of questions. "What is your name?" I asked him. "Why doesn't the clan talk about you? Why do you smell like that?"

"Sentinel," he intoned in a gravelly voice, and that is the only thing I have heard him say yet. I do not know which question he was answering. Perhaps all three.

I am his apprentice now, and learning things beyond the realm of what I thought possible. I do not think I have the words to describe exactly what I am learning; perhaps this is why nobody else would talk about it. At the end of my first day, Vortex returned with a small Swift Volt, armoured and endowed with magics that allow me to channel my own - as an Earth dragon it is somewhat more difficult for me to learn the abstract concepts, but I am applying them exceptionally, I gather - and guided me back to the clan. I still sleep with them - I do not know where Sentinel sleeps - but I have few friends.

The few friends I do have are Lume and his sister. I woke one day to find Lume playing with my familiar. Such a thing here is rarely experienced - we do not touch and hardly acknowledge another's familiar - but my Swift Volt was not only tolerating him, but making small sounds of amusement and friendliness. I scented out the fae's familiar: a Bramble Guardian high on the ceiling, attempting to copy the sounds my familiar was making.

Quartz, who cares for Lume and is in fact his closest friend, apologized for the fae, scooping him up with her mouth and placing him on her head. He perched there, head cocked, frills quivering, and I smelled friendship on him. When the rest of the clan practically would not make eye contact with me, Lume was willing, and because Lume was willing Quartz quickly followed. When Vortex brings me home at the end of the day, Lume now quickly greets and grooms me, and our familiars do as well. I cleared out a nesting space the other day, and we are now sitting on three lovely eggs. They are much different from Earth eggs: instead of being ridged and armoured, they are soft, pulsing faintly with an internally-generated light. Lume may not understand some of the habits of the clan, and sometimes has a hard time communicating his emotions, but I think he will be an exceptional father. When I leave in the morning he curls up around the eggs, and when I return he is still there, sometimes talking quietly with Quartz. He and I are quite alike in more than colouration: we can't communicate much of our lives except to each other.