Creative Corner

So, I made this account to do @Tar 's Pinkerton Nuzlocke challenge because I love Nuzlockes and when I realized I could do one here, it made me want to join even more. Now I'm here!

Doing a daily blog recording stuff about my Nuzlocke over here: https://frnuzlockeproject.wordpress.com/

My challenge isn't officially starting until my first nest hatches but I'm recording all of my Pinkerton drops so those can be added when the eggs hatch and I see which hatchlings survive. Until then, I've done two bits of writing and decided that I could post them here as an ongoing story thing.

Pieces will be sporadic updates depending on mood or Pinkerton drops. I'll likely write something for any significant events, especially clan deaths.

PINGLIST

@AnnaStar353 @Havril @Skyeset @Nuzlocke @Windward

Day 1

It had been four days since Safe had been born. She passed through the Wandering Contagion, searching aimlessly for other dragons. Her first memory was of the Plaguebringer, wings spread, telling her both hello and goodbye before tearing into the sky with a screech akin to a demon’s. Safe hadn’t even gotten to ask why she was here.

The land was barren, empty, lifeless. The opposite of Safe’s mind, which flooded with questions. Why was she born? Why had the Plaguebringer apologized? Where were all of the other dragons? Weren’t there supposed to be more than her? Was the whole world empty?

Her stomach snarled with hunger. She hadn’t found any food in the days since she had come into the world. She felt weak and sick. Was she going to die?

A voice called to her. “Hey! Hello? Is someone actually there?”

“I’m here!” Safe cried, searching for the voice. “I am here! Where are you?”

Tomato-red scales and stone-brown wings flashed above. A Guardian touched down near her, beard scraggly, red eyes sunken, breaths heaving from his thick chest. When he straightened, Safe could see his ribs sticking out against his sagging scales.

“Thank Plaguebringer! I thought the whole region had gone empty!” The Guardian wheezed out a laugh. “At least I finally found someone. You don’t look too weak yet. Are you new?”

“I was born four days ago,” Safe explained, drawing near to the larger Guardian. “The Plaguebringer greeted me and then said goodbye. I haven’t seen her since.”

“Four days ago? Sounds about right,” the Guardian grumbled. He frowned. “I was born just around then too. Something’s wrong with this area. I’m finding a lot of bones and corpses, but no living dragons. Not until you.”

“Corpses?!” The obsidian-black and blood-red Mirror reared back in horror. “I’ve seen nothing of the sort!”

“Then you’re lucky,” the Guardian stated, shaking dust from his scales. “The monsters aren’t hiding. They look pretty pleased with all the bodies to feed on. I think something happened here.”

“Like what?” Safe asked.

“Like a, well…” The Guardian looked into the distance. “Like a plague. What else could kill so many dragons so fast?”

“But we’re still alive,” Safe stressed.

“For now. How long until that changes?” The Guardian growled, shaking his head. He sighed. “Sorry. I’ve just been kind of grumpy lately. I don’t mean to take it out on you, uh…?”

“Safe,” she provided. “The Plaguebringer named me Safe.”

“Funny. She named me Zone,” he snickered. “Safe and Zone. Safe zone. Irony much?”

“Maybe it’s a sign,” Safe suggested, tail curled along her paws. She looked meekly at the larger dragon. “Perhaps we should stay together.”

Zone snorted before giving a nod. “It’s better than being alone.”

So Safe and Zone clawed out a meager lair in the Wandering Contagion. The scent of death and disease permeated the air. Zone went to fetch food, only returning with a single cube of blue jelly. He scavenged quite a few materials and trinkets, though. These were stored at the back of their lair to be dealt with at a later date.

“You know, we don’t need to be alone,” Zone admitted later that evening.

“What do you mean?” Safe asked.

“Well, I mean…” Zone looked away, the scales on his face heating up. “You’re a girl and I’m a guy. We could, you know…uh…”

It took Safe several minutes of puzzling to understand what Zone was getting at. They could have hatchlings, make of clan of their own. But was it safe, here in this place where death had sunk its claws so deeply?

She decided to chance it. “Then let us make our own future here, with our own paws.”

A nest was made from the bones and rotted flesh that created the great territory around them. Simmering green goo bubbled around three slimy green eggs, the results of Safe and Zone’s efforts. In five days, the eggs would hatch into beautiful hatchlings. Where death had struck, perhaps they could plant a seed of life.

If only death was ever that willing to give up its prize…

Day 3

Safe returned from scavenging in the field to find Zone up to his eyes in debris. The tomato-red Guardian was clawing at the stone of their makeshift lair, tearing out hunks of rock and piles of dirt. Depositing the items she had found during her hunt, the blood-red Mirror approached him warily.

“Zone?”

“Yeah?” the Guardian huffed, still clawing at stone.

“What are you doing?”

Zone pulled back, coughing dirt and snorting a pebble from his nostril. He looked at her, baffled, and then gestured to all the destruction.

“What does it look like?”

“I’m…not sure,” Safe admitted, tilting her head in hopes of understanding the strange scene better.

Zone sighed, shaking his great head. “I’m making more room. I doubt the hatchings will want a tiny space to grow up in, not if we don’t want them wandering out into the wilderness where some monster could kill them.”

Safe made a soft “oh” sound. Now it made sense. Zone was trying to widen the meager space of their lair, which wasn’t very much to begin with. With hatchlings on the way, it made sense. More room meant less of a chance for curious newborns to slip out of the lair and into the dangerous territory of the Wandering Contagion around them.

Zone returned to digging, claws scraping sharply on stone. Safe was suddenly by his side, pawing away dirt and loose stones with her nimble, long-fingered paws. Zone grunted but continued, working around the smaller Mirror.

By nightfall, the lair had been widened. Not by a large margin but it certainly looked bigger. Safe was pretty sure the hatchlings would like it.

Zone plodded over to the lone nest, the green goo bubbling around the slimy eggs that floated in it. The Guardian swore he could see the faint shadows within, the growing forms of their children. He couldn’t help but smile. Even in this wasteland of corpses and disease, life could be brought forth.

If only it could stay that way. Just life. No more death. If only it could be that simplistic, that sweet, that easy. Zone would never complain again if he could just have that…

Day 6

“Fluen… Kanker… Pox…” Zone suggested.

“I think those…are good,” Safe nodded.

The adults stood over the nest, hearts heavy. Three tiny forms had broken free of their eggs, weak and small. Zone had recognized the reality–they weren’t going to make it. Safe refused to believe, curling around the three tiny bodies, trying to feed them scraps of meat. One by one, each settled against her ribcage and ceased to breathe.

Safe was heartbroken, devastated. What mother wouldn’t be? Her children weren’t even twenty minutes old and already they had given up living. She had been powerless to keep them in this world.

“Why?”

Zone had no answers for that question. He turned away and went to scavenge. Anything to get his mind off of the reality that his bright future had been shattered in mere moments. An event of hope became his undoing. So he’d drown himself in work and pray for another chance.

His claws scraped against the bone and gristle of the Wandering Contagion as he hunted, searching for anything of value to bring home. He soon entered the territory of Wind flight. He ignored the looks, the concern, the fear.

Word of a disease sweeping through Plague flight had reached his ears not long after he met Safe. They were not the only clan suffering. It hurt. A plague was wiping out Plague. It might’ve been funny if Zone wasn’t lost in fantasies of his deceased children.

Green stood out, vibrant compared to the grass he was tearing up. An orb. No, oval. Egg?

…Egg…

Zone stared for a long time at the vine-covered green Wind Egg. His heart felt made of stone. All of their eggs had ended in death. Yet this one stood here, completely safe.

It almost made him jealous. Angry, even.

He picked the egg up in his jaws, fantasizing about crunching down, tasting the yolk and flesh inside. It looked ready to hatch. All he’d need to do was put down more pressure and–

What are you doing?

Zone froze. Had he…seriously…thought about killing…an innocent hatchling?

The Guardian lifted his head, tongue dragging against the vined surface of the egg. Yes, he’d thought of crushing this egg. Thought of committing murder. No, infanticide? What did you call killing an egg before it hatched?

Doesn’t matter. He almost did it.

Disgusting.

Zone frowned before plodding away. He felt too tired to continue scavenging. He headed back home to Plague territory, to the lair, to Safe…to their empty nest…

He wasn’t sure how long it was before the noise reached him. The loud squeaking. Chirping. Distressed sounds. Hatchling sounds.

Not the egg. Over there, under the rot, in that ribcage.

Zone pushed the bone pile aside with his head, egg between his teeth, and stared blankly. Three hatchlings were huddled there, filthy and tired. A white Tundra covered in black patches and orange splashes, brilliant yellow wings folded close to his sides. A coral pink and red Mirror. A gray Guardian with brilliantly patterned brown wings patterned with eye spots.

The trio stared at him before slowly scampering over the fleshy debris, whimpering, crawling over his forepaws. They pawed at him, squeaking. Desperate, scared, alone…

Just like him…and Safe…

Zone sighed, rumbling deep in his chest. “Come along, little ones. Home isn’t far off.”

The hatchlings crawled up him, settling along his back and neck. The tomato-red Guardian walked the rest of the way to the lair, his heart mixed between joy and self-loathing. So much confusion inside. He hated it.

Safe was seated by three mounds of dirt outside of their lair, bits of bone serving as markers for the tombs of their young. The squeaking of the hatchlings attracted her. The trio abandoned Zone and ran to Safe, pawing and squeaking for food, bellies growling with hunger.

“…How?” Her eyes landed on the egg in his jaws. “Where?”

“Those three were out in the Wandering Contagion, stuck under some debris. This I found in Wind territory,” Zone explained, placing the egg at her feet. “We’ve lost our own…and nobody else was there…so I thought…we could take them in…if you’re okay with that.”

Safe’s eyes watered. She nuzzled the three tiny hatchlings, not even a day old, that wandered around her. “Yes… I’m okay with this.”

A sudden crack made all five dragons freeze. Safe stared at the Wind Egg before her. Cracks spread across it, goo rushing from chunks of shell that fell away under uncoordinated paws. The egg broke, a blood-red form tumbling from it. The shards were shaken away with tiny seafoam wings.

A baby Mirror, so similar to Safe in appearance. Safe’s heart bloomed with love instantly. She moved, nuzzling the newborn.

“Bola,” she declared softly.

The other three began to chatter and squeak in jealousy. Zone found himself laughing, a great booming noise. It felt nice to laugh.

“Bola, it is,” he agreed. “And these three…I say the gray one is Winse.”

“P…P…” the tiny Tundra choked out. “Piz… Pizzi…cato…”

“Pizzicato?” Zone repeated. “Quite a weird name.”

“Ma… Mali…hi…ni…” the tiny coral-pink Mirror chirped.

“So you two can talk, if only a little,” Zone noted.

“It must’ve been the names their parents gave them,” Safe guessed. “Do you think they…?”

“Who knows,” Zone shrugged. “They aren’t here now. And we are.”

“…I guess you’re right,” Safe conceded.

Zone herded the hatchlings up, guiding them into their expanded lair. He’d been working hard to claw out more room. It was rough work and slow going, but it kept him busy. Zone didn’t mind being kept busy. It made it easy to forget about the plague, the corpses, the death outside…

The lair felt a little brighter, a little warmer now that there were hatchlings. It made the Guardian feel happier. Safe was smiling again. That was good. Zone didn’t like seeing the poor Mirror so sad. And the way she was fussing over Bola… Adorable.

If only it was so easy to forget about the three tiny graves outside…

Day 7 (written on Day 9)

Scavenging again. What fun.

Zone scrounged through Wind territory. He just had a good feeling about this place. Besides, it was March. In another week or two, the Mistral Jamboree would be on them. Maybe it would give their tiny clan good luck.

Zone doubted it but one could hope. Hope was all they really had.

Especially in light of yesterday. It still made him shudder. He had thought of destroying an innocent egg. What would that have accomplished? Absolutely nothing, that’s what. It scared him, though. Who would break an egg like that?

Apparently, Zone thought, me.

Chess pieces, moldy bits of leather, bottles of bones, and chunks of bamboo greeted his claws as he hunted for various materials and trinkets to bring home. Nothing overly special. Not like the egg he’d found yesterday.

Yesterday, a day of life and death. Three lives were lost before they even began. One life was started. Three lives were saved from a horrid death in the isolated wastes of the Plague territory.

That thought stuck with Zone. How had those hatchlings gotten out into the Wandering Contagion to begin with? That was a long journey for hatchlings of their elements–Light, Ice, and Shadow. How did they end up all the way out here?

Maybe their parents abandoned them, part of him suggested. Unwanted little hatchlings, tossed to Plague territory to die a lonely death. Maybe not so lonely since they found each other, but it certainly would have been painful. If the monsters didn’t get them, then perhaps starvation or the plague itself would have.

Zone tried not to think about the plague. It was clear that that was why the nest had failed. It was no fault of his or Safe’s. They had done all they could. The plague that had been striking dragons across the Plague territory were effecting eggs in nests now, too.

Then why are Safe and I immune?

Who said you really are? part of him argued.

Zone shuddered. He didn’t like that part of himself, the part that hissed and needled away at his mind with doubt and anger. That part had to be what tried to make him crush Bola’s egg yesterday. He’d never do that of his own accord.

Would I? Zone wondered.

Zone abandoned his hunt, stone-brown wings spread wide to carry him through the sky. Grassy plains and sparkling ponds gave way to rotted land and boney spires, the transition between Wind territory and Plague territory. Zone touched down close to where he’d found Pizzicato, Malihini, and Winse yesterday, nosing through the pile of debris.

Nothing but the faint scent of hatchlings. It was empty.

The Guardian crushed his desires, his hopes. Why would there be another hatchling here, exactly where he found the other three? Preposterous! He was just wasting his time while Safe was at home, caring for four squirrely hatchlings.

He made for home, head held high. Some part of him was still hopeful. He just had a feeling. The lingering smell of disease and death clogged his nostrils but he held onto that tiny thread of hope that screamed HATCHLING. If three could turn up out here, why not more?

Because that would be too convenient, that awful part of him whispered. And you’re simply not that lucky. You never were.

Zone wanted to snap back, prove that part of him wrong. He had been lucky so far, very lucky! He’d found Safe right when he needed a companion. He’d been able to have a nest with her. They found children to care for when their own perished. The Windsinger had felt enough mercy to let him find an egg in his territory. They had yet to starve or suffer from beasts in the wilderness.

But his retort was unneeded. The snarling of a beast cut his thoughts off, quieting the awful part of his mind.

Zone froze, wings flared, jaw parted to show off his teeth. He was the very definition of dangerous dragon. Nothing would dare approach. Or so he hoped. He may be in better condition than he was six days ago but he was in no shape to fight a roaming beast.

The snarling came from a white and gray shape huddled beneath a pile of bones and rotted flesh from the territory around him. The animal’s blue eyes flared out from the dark, teeth glinting from saliva in the lessening light of the sun. It took Zone a moment to identify the beast.

A Winter Wolf.

“A little far from home, aren’t you?” Zone muttered.

While heavily defended, the beast was also vulnerable in its current position. Zone would just need to climb atop the boney structure that the wolf was beneath and let gravity do the rest. His weight would bring the debris down and crush the animal, leaving not a scratch on Zone.

The tomato-red Guardian moved, circling the structure to climb it from the side. He had begun to scale it when sharp chirping greeted his ears. He paused before peering through the gaps in the bones. His jaw dropped in shock.

Nestled against the wolf’s hindquarters, completely hidden from Zone when he’d first seen the animal, was a hatchling. A Skydancer, judging from the delicate bat-like wings. He was an iridescent black with striped purple wings and a lighter underbelly. Maize-colored gems were stuck to his tiny body. Gembond, Zone believed the condition was called.

He didn’t look hurt. If anything, he looked distressed…but not because of the creature ihewas pressed against. His head swung all around the makeshift hidey hole, searching.

For me, Zone guessed, withdrawing from the tiny gaps.

He couldn’t kill it now. He knew what this was. The Winter Wolf wasn’t just any old roaming beast. It was a familiar, attached to this tiny Skydancer hatchling. To kill the familiar would be traumatic for the hatchling, who couldn’t be more than a day old at best. No, Zone couldn’t possibly kill the Winter Wolf now.

But how was he supposed to get the hatchling?

Why do you even want it?

Zone ignored that voice and dug through the treasures he’d found. There were plenty of bones in the mix. Maybe those? Wolves liked bones, right?

It was worth a try.

So Zone left a trail of bones behind him. Bone shards, squirrel and sparrow skulls, wing bones and ribcages, whatever bones he had on him from his scavenging. He plodded back to the lair, slow and steady, listening.

Steady crunching told him that the familiar had left the den, likely with its hatchling charge in tow. He dared not look behind him to check, though. He didn’t want to scare them off. So he kept moving, growing closer to the den with each slow step.

Safe was waiting for him at the entrance, her four red eyes wide when she saw the beast that her mate was leading home. The sight of the Skydancer hatchling placated her but she was wary. She moved alongside Zone when he entered, both heading deeper into the den where the hatchlings were.

Bola chirped in greeting, racing over to nuzzle her adoptive mother’s foreleg. Winse and Pizzicato were wrestling with one another, fighting over a chunk of meat that Safe had been painstakingly feeding them. While they argued, neither noticed Malihini sneak in to claim the unattended meat for herself. All movement ceased when the adults parted to press themselves against the walls of their den, the Winter Wolf stepping into view.

Pizzicato and Winse both puffed, hissing and flaring their wings. Bola squeaked in fright, diving behind Safe and huddling behind her thick tail. Malihini choked, spitting out her stolen meal, and proceeded to start hissing herself, tail thrashing, shaking her head so her frills made her look bigger.

The tiny Skydancer tumbled from the familiar’s back, wobbling to his feet. The other hatchlings’ attention turned to him, aggression dying. The tension was thick, the familiar’s fur rising warily.

Malihini broke it, picking up the meat she had been trying to eat and carrying it over to the new hatchling. Winse and Pizzicato proceeded to complain loudly, looking to Zone for support. The Skydancer looked from the meat to Malihini in confusion before turning to chirp at his canine companion. The Winter Wolf stepped forward, took the meat, and downed it in one swallow.

“Daaaaaaaaaaad!!” Pizzicato and Winse cried miserably.

The familiar snorted, licking its lips before settling down on the floor to sleep. The Skydancer toddled forward, bumping noses with Malihini. She smiled toothily.

“Wanna play?” she asked.

“Okay,” the Skydancer nodded, voice soft.

“Gotta name?” she asked.

The Skydancer looked confused. Zone started churning names in his head when Safe interrupted him.

“Lymph.”

“…Sounds good to me,” Zone conceded. He had named so many. It was only fair to let Safe name some too.

The Winter Wolf was still there come morning and was still there the next day. It never left Lymph’s side but it no longer snarled aggressively at Zone. The hatchlings played on and around it like it was a living playground. The beast did not complain, so neither did Safe or Zone.

Zone still kept an eye out each time he scavenged now, searching for more wayward hatchlings. Perhaps the plague could kill his young, but that wouldn’t stop him from saving those that turned up on his lair-step.

Day 11

Winse laughed, rolling onto his back, lifting Lymph up with his large forepaws. The Skydancer hatchling squawked, wings flailing in joy. Bola, Pizzicato, and Malihini watched from the sidelines with the Winter Wolf, cheering the grey Guardian on.

Zone and Safe watched from near the empty nest that bubbled and hissed green goo. Five more days until they could try again. Maybe they’d get lucky this time. Maybe the plague wouldn’t kill the next clutch…

“They’re getting so big,” Zone chuckled.

Winse had grown enormously in the five days since he, Pizzicato, and Malihini had been discovered in the Wandering Contagion. He towered over his adoptive siblings by over four meters. He was even bigger than Safe was! Any bigger and he certainly couldn’t be called a hatchling anymore. He was quickly catching up to Zone’s size of ten meters.

The rest of the hatchlings’ growth rates were less. Bola had jumped about two meters while the others were roughly a meter bigger than they were five days ago. It was less noticeable than Winse’s growth but it was still impressive, considering they were only five days old.

Safe smiled softly, watching her adopted hatchlings play. “Tomorrow, they’ll be grown.”

“At least I won’t have to scavenge alone anymore. Now that they’ll be old enough to fend for themselves, they can help me out when we go gathering,” Zone said.

“Is that safe?”

“Well, I can’t very well gather food and treasure for all of us by my lonesome forever, can I?”

“…I guess you’re right.”

Zone nuzzled his smaller mate’s shoulder affectionately. She was over five meters shorter than him, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The tomato-red Guardian didn’t mind being the biggest dragon in the lair. It just meant he got all the attention and company he could want when the chilly night air came in.

Tomorrow was going to be a glorious day. Lymph would need another day to mature to adulthood but the others… They were ready. Winse was born ready. Zone could just tell.

Things were looking up for them. If only it would stay that way forever…

Day 13

Winse just stared in shock. He wanted to say, to believe, that he didn’t understand what he was seeing. But he did understand. He knew. And he was ashamed because of it.

Zone watched him with narrowed red eyes. Winse wanted to sink into the earth, let the Earthshaker swallow him up. That would be better than this, than facing this reality.

“I told you to stay away from there, Winse. I thought you were more responsible than this.”

“I’m sorry.”

The apology, the words, they echoed hollowly in his chest. The young grey Guardian kept his head down, trying not to look at the red liquid that slowly leaked into his field of vision. Safe’s sobs stabbed into his ears, increasing the shame tenfold.

“I told you no when I caught you yesterday,” Zone said lowly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Then why did I find them out there today?!”

“We were in the Training Fields yesterday! I don’t know why they went to Woodland Path today!” Winse protested.

“You started this.”

“I said I’m sorry!”

“Sorry won’t fix this!”

“I didn’t–“

“ENOUGH!!”

Safe’s shrill cry silenced the Guardians. Zone backed away as she approached, tears streaking down her dark head as she nosed the bodies. Sobs hitched as her snout brushed against blood-red scales, coral-pink scales, and bloodied white and black fur. She turned to Winse and the Guardian wanted to cry, explain, defend himself but in the gaze of those defeated red eyes, he saw nothing but confusion and misery.

Why? they said. Why would you do this? You were warned and you did not listen. Why?

“I…” Winse choked, trying to force the words out. “I… We…didn’t mean it.”

“Then what did you mean, Winse? What was going out there going to accomplish?” Zone demanded. “What was…fighting monsters…going to earn for you?”

“…I thought…if we got strong enough…maybe the plague couldn’t hurt us anymore,” Winse explained weakly.

It sounded poor, pathetic, but it was all he had. It was his only explanation. Their only explanation. They had all agreed to it that night before they all grew up on the sixth day of their lives. It had been a better way than hiding out in the lair all day, scavenging for scraps in other territories, searching for wayward hatchlings that might not be out in the Wandering Contagion to be found, waiting for the breeding cool-down to end so that their adoptive parents could make another nest. It was the brave, noble, adventurous way to solve things.

But now, looking at the fallen bodies of dragons that he’d grown up with, he wondered what in the world he’d been thinking to suggest such an idea. Such a stupid, reckless idea. An idea that had killed his friends.

“Well, the plague sure didn’t hurt us today,” Zone rumbled. “But you sure did, Winse. Think about that.”

Winse had been thinking about it since that afternoon when Bola, Malihini, and Pizzicato hadn’t come back. He had stayed behind to give Pizzicato a chance to prove himself. The larger dragon didn’t want to take all of the fun, after all. It had been so easy to beat up moths and mice.

But they had gone further than he did, fighting chargers and owls and cockatrice. He had told them to go to Training Fields again. Bola–or maybe Malihini–had chosen to go further.

It had cost the three their lives.

Winse was going to have to live with that knowledge now, for the rest of his life.

Maybe the rest of my life will end tomorrow, Winse thought. Like theirs did today.

The three ruined bodies were buried outside of the lair, near where Safe and Zone’s first clutch was buried. Safe sobbed as Zone pushed dirt over Bola. The Mirror was heartbroken over the loss of her near-identical child.

Winse watched as Zone covered Malihini and Pizzicato’s bodies. He’d grown up with those two. They had all been together since they found each other in the Wandering Contagion, since Zone found them under the bone pile, since they were brought to this lair to live. They’d wrestled and played and shared stories together. They’d had their meals and slept together.

He wished they had done more. They were practically siblings, him and them. Even Bola, born in the lair, found minutes before them as an egg in Wind territory. They four had been of one clutch, in their minds.

Now it was just him. Him and Lymph and Leth, a baby Spiral that Zone found today in the Wandering Contagion. She was so tiny compared to him. It frightened him. Had he been that small? Had Lymph?

The graves were covered and bone markers set in place. Zone led Safe away into the den. Lymph picked up baby Leth and wandered after them. Winse stayed at the graves, unmoving.

He wished it would rain so nobody could see him crying. But it didn’t. The Stormcatcher was against him. Fine. He could play that game too. He didn’t need rain to hide his tears.

He simply wouldn’t cry at all.

Day 17 (written on Day 18)

Winse stared hard at the thick trees ahead of them. He had never been this far from home before. Lymph shuddered beside him, tiny body pressed against the Guardian’s larger bulk.

This was it–Woodland Path, where three of their family had fallen four days before. Bola, Malihini, and Pizzicato had gone in without a clue as to the horrors that awaited them. Unprepared, they had fallen to owls and basilisks with nobody to help them.

Now Winse and Lymph were here to take the forest on themselves.

Winse stepped onto the path first, Lymph cowering at his tail. The Skydancer posed a smaller target and, though his magic had grown strong, his courage was seriously lacking without his hatchling-hood friend, the Winter Wolf, there to support him. The familiars refused to come out here with them, leaving the young dragons on their own.

Winse tried not to think about the blood that was on this path. Four days ago, his family had died here. Who knows how many others had lost their lives to this place.

Winse didn’t want to think about it. It was too painful.

With a squawk, a basilisk stepped from the forest to confront them. It hissed, flaring leathery wings, tail lashing, eyes gleaming. Winse growled, teeth bared.

Lymph made the first move, meditating to gather his magic. His Zephyr Bolt required little but one turn could be deadly. Winse blocked furious scratches, swiping the creature aside with one of his large paws.

He remembered yesterday when they came in here to test the area. They were strong, stronger than Bola and Malihini and Pizzicato had been when they had entered this place. But the forest was cruel and the Wildwood Owls hadn’t appreciated the intrusion. Though victory had been secured, Winse was quick to flee with an injured Lymph over his shoulders. They returned to Training Fields for the day, regaining health and honing their newfound magic.

Winse wasn’t good with magic. His took too long to build up and by the time he had enough, he’d waste it immediately to down the enemy. Lymph was patient, building up stores of breath until he could dish out blow after blow on their opponents. It made Winse jealous, to an extent.

But Winse could forgive that. Where Lymph was good with magic, Winse had all the physical power he could ever need. He had downed most opponents in Training Fields with one or two blows.

Admittedly, the inhabitants of Woodland Path were much harder. The basilisks and owls and chargers struck hard and fast, many hitting first blows before Lymph and Winse were prepared. It was difficult.

But they weren’t failing, giving up, fleeing. The two young dragons stood their ground and took out every opponent. When things got too deadly, when health was too low, they backed off to breathe and recover. Then they were back into the fray.

When the day was done, Winse was proud to say they had grown. Lymph, though nervous, had become more confident in his magic. Leaving the place with their bounty of riches, they trekked home.

They no longer feared judgment for their choices. If Zone wanted to yell, let him yell. They had come home safe, as they had promised their mother. Scavenging wasn’t helping. They had to fight, grow, learn.

Experience was their greatest ally.

Day 20

They smell like blood.

That was the first thought that crossed baby Leth’s mind when she was first introduced to the grey Guardian and the shadow Skydancer, Winse and Lymph. They were her adoptive older brothers, the big tomato-red Guardian named Zone told her. The two were older than her, bigger than her, stronger than her.

And they smelled like blood.

She was found by Zone in the Wandering Contagion, cared for by a Deadwood Boar that had carried her across the wasteland upon their meeting. Zone had been friendly, if a bit forceful, in getting her and the familiar to follow him home. Ultimately, they arrived at the big lair with the loving blood-colored Mirror named Safe and the two bigger dragons that were to be Leth’s brothers.

She arrived on a day that would end in tears. There had been three more dragons, two Mirrors and a multicolored Tundra. They were gone when she arrived. When they returned, it was only their bodies brought home by Zone.

Leth was young, too young to understand what happened. Why Safe had cried. Why Zone had yelled at Winse. Why Lymph had looked so guilty. Why Winse had spent the night outside instead of in the warm lair with the rest of them.

It wasn’t until she was about to officially grow up that she learned about death. It was Lymph who told her, one day when he returned with Winse from playing outside. They hadn’t been out playing.

They had been fighting. Killing. Surviving.

Just like those three from the day she had arrived. Bola, Malihini, and Pizzicato. She hadn’t known them, but their names and faces echoed in her memory. They had died doing this.

Winse and Lymph were still going forward with it. They had conquered the area, Woodland Path, that had killed the other three. They had mastered the art of physical and magical combat. They were strong, much stronger than their adoptive parents, who rarely left the lair except to scavenge in Wind territory. Winse and Lymph had been bringing in all of their food and a large portion of treasure from their near-daily treks into the wilderness.

But the wilderness carried life and death with a fickle mindset. At any point, Winse and Lymph could lose their lives, as their three siblings had.

It scared Leth. Weren’t they afraid?

“Of course we’re scared,” Lymph had answered. “But it’s this or a torturous wait for the plague to kill us.”

Lymph then told her about the plague, the loss of Zone and Safe’s first nest, the bodies out in the Wandering Contagion. It scared Leth. But…it also inspired her. She didn’t want to die like that. Compared to a death like that, the wilderness looked like heaven.

“What do I do? How do I help you?”

“You grow up first. Then you wait for us,” Lymph instructed. “We’ll go out together.”

It has been two days since she had grown up, a long Spiral with brilliant patterns and a soft teal underbelly. She and Lymph hunted down proper battle stones for her. She couldn’t use them now but Lymph says she will be able to soon. She just needed to get strong enough to handle the magic in them, the power.

Leth thinks she can handle it. Anything her brothers can do, she’ll just have to do it ten times better.

Day 25

Betes and Losis pawed at the dirt, trying to uncover their brother Cad. Mother had told them that Cad was gone, that he couldn’t play. But that was a lie. Cad was right here. He was hiding, just like they did, playing hide and seek.

Large jaws wrapped around Losis, picking him up. The hatchling gave a cry, squirming in Winse’s mouth. Betes was lifted too, instead by her father. Both larger Guardians moved away from the graves, Winse smoothing the dirt over Cad with his tail.

Leth merrily took the hatchlings from them when they circled around and into the lair mouth. She distracted them with stories and aerial displays. She even tied herself in a loose knot that Lymph needed to help disentangle her from. The hatchlings were sufficiently amused, forgetting about digging up their sibling.

Safe sighed as Zone laid beside her. She was happy, so happy, to finally have children. Betes, brave and wild. Losis, the spitting image of his father. They were beautiful, precious, loved.

If only Cad hadn’t died. They could’ve been a perfect family of five.

No, eight. A perfect family of eight. Winse, Lymph, and Leth were family, just not by blood. They may as well be, Zone had said.

It should be fifteen. Nobody should have died, in Safe’s opinion.

Her first nest, those three gorgeous hatchlings–Fluen, Kanker, and Pox–should never have died. Malihini, Bola, and Pizzicato should be alive right now too. And Cad–poor, sweet, innocent Cad–should be laughing alongside his siblings right now.

None of them should be dead. None of them.

…But they are.

They were dead…and they were never coming back…

“Safe,” Zone rumbled, as if reading his mate’s mind. “I know you miss him. But look.” He gestured his mighty head toward Leth and the children. “We got lucky this time. We have two beautiful children to care for now. Cad would want us to be happy.”

Safe watched Losis wrestle with Betes, interest lost in Leth’s story. The teal-belly Spiral looked upset by the interruption. She was swiftly distracted by Lymph trotting over to nuzzle her. They watched the hatchlings wrestle and paw and nip each other, squeaking and chirping.

Safe was no fool. She had seen the way Lymph and Leth looked at each other. They were in love. Late at night when she just lay there with her four eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the night, she’d pick up bits of conversation between them. Leth wanted a nest, hatchlings of her own. And Lymph–sweet, loyal Lymph–wanted to give her that. It made Safe feel proud.

But it also frightened her. Her first clutch and then Cad from her second clutch had all died on the nest. Leth, so brave, was still so young. How would she handle it if her clutch all perished?

She would be devastated, Safe suspected.

Had they even thought of that? Or was it just her imagining that nest full of dead eggs, the babies inside barely breathing, expiring minutes after finally coming into the world?

A sharp squeal from Betes brought her back to the present. The blood-red Guardian leaped away from her larger brother, paw bleeding from a deep bite. Losis scurried back, head lowered in guilt, eyes wide in shock. The streak of red on the cave floor shone like a neon-colored banner.

Zone rose, ready to deliver a scolding, when Safe stood. Zone watched her as she crossed the lair to her daughter. Betes’ eyes shone with fresh tears but she refused to cry outright, snout twitching in an attempt to hide them.

Safe fetched some of the herbs and plants that Winse and Lymph had brought home once from one of their outdoor excursions into the wilderness. She wrapped them around Betes bleeding paw and put gentle pressure. The flow stopped. Betes was careful in placing the damaged limb on the ground, limping slightly.

“I’m sorry,” Losis apologized softly.

Safe picked up a stray piece of linen and turned, wiping her son’s mouth. There was blood on his teeth and a smear on his lower jaw. The fabric cleared it away and her son looked pure again.

“Play nice,” Safe requested, nuzzling her son.

Three days old and Losis was almost as big as her. How fast these children grow.

Maybe it was a testament to their survival abilities. The plague had failed to kill Losis and Betes on the nest. Safe prayed they would continue to survive.