Ehhhh I'll go for a FR theme, then. Thanks for all the answers, @
Azurenight!
Here we go.
A broad grin was stretched across his face, admiring his gigantic claws. The young Wildclaw had been growing it out to the best of his ability, stretching it back when he walked, and faking his daily tree trunk scratching. His mother had claimed that clawing up the trees helped to keep their claws sharp, but that seemed counter-intuitive to him. After all, from what she said, trying to scratch up rocks would blunt, or even damage his claws. He was proud of his gigantic toenails, and dreamed of the social status he'd receive from his fellow Wildclaws for being so clever.
But it seemed that the dream was to be short-lived, as an imposing shadow passed over him.
"Anton Razorbark, just
what do you think you're doing?!"
Anton let out a yelp as he jumped up and spun around to face his mother's frightening visage and grand stature. Her claw tapped the stone she stood on in a measured rhythm, indicating her short patience. Anton's mind scrambled for an answer.
"I was just...sharpening my claws!" he lied, half his mouth pulling up in an innocent grin, while the other side fell tellingly short. His green eyes were also filled with worry that he wouldn't be believed.
His mother saw through the lie like a clear pool on a windless day. She hooked her claw under his and forced it up, toppling the tot onto his back in the process, as she scrutinized the claw. Her eyes quickly widened in alarm before narrowing again in a mother's wrath.
"It looks like you haven't sharpened this in
weeks! What were you thinking?!"
Anton glared up at her rebelliously. Then, true to their homeland's name, began shrieking. "I don't want to shorten them! I want to have the biggest claws in Sornieth! If I keep running on them, or scratching up trees with them, they'll
never grow!"
Though still disgruntled -- and none too pleased with her son's tone -- the mother's expression softened some and she let loose a huff. Then, she set the claw back down and crouched next to Anton, pointing to his claws. "Do you see how thick they've gotten? How dull? All of that is dead claw matter. We sharpen our claws to get rid of that, so that our claws stay sharp, and can grow healthily. Your claws are thick, and unwieldy...and do you see how each is making a circle? They're longer than usual, yes, but they're going to grow right into the bottoms of your feet if you don't take care of them. You won't be able to eviscerate anything if all you have to fight with is the blunt back of your claw."
The young Wildclaw angrily smacked his mother's hand away as he rolled back onto his feet and wailed, "I don't believe you! You just DON'T UNDERSTAND!"
The young Wildclaw began to run away, not even noticing that his dull claws weren't picking up as much traction as they should have. His mother bore her teeth and a low, rumbling growl emanated from her throat at her son's insubordination. With one, giant leap, she passed over him and landed right in his path. Anton, in alarm, tried to dig a claw into the ground in order to make a sharp turn, but his claw was too dull and too thick, and only wound up making grooves in the dirt. His mother then snapped him up into her jaws, and leaped again, using her wings to carry them further through the air while her son squirmed.
She ignored his shrieking and whining until finally, they arrived at a doctor's den. This doctor specialized in treating young Wildclaws, as was evidenced by all the patients waiting outside. Anton was set onto the ground to wait, but he couldn't help ogling the patients. One's arm was swollen, another sneezed every other second, with a pouting, younger Plague Wildclaw sitting next to him. The patients came and went, until finally, it was Anton's turn. He and his mother entered the den, where a friendly doctor awaited them.
"Well, hello, there!" cheerily but gently greeted the kindly doctor. "What's your name?"
Anton grimaced, glaring with mistrust at this dragon.
"His name is Anton," his mother answered, "And he thinks he knows better than I do how to take care of his claws."
"Oh, I see," the doctor noted to the mother before smiling down at Anton. "Let's take a look, then, hm?"
"No need," Atnon huffed. His mother set him down stubbornly on the examination stump.
"Ah, I see... Don't like sharpening your claws, do you?" asked the doctor.
"I want my claws to be bigger than anyone else's! Sharpening them only makes them smaller!" the defiant child proclaimed, jumping to his feet. His mother promptly sat him back down.
"Ahh, I see... Well, Anton, you're right. Your claws will get bigger and bigger if you never sharpen them. Here, let me show you some dragons who tried that."
Anton was stunned to hear the doctor take his side. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. He was also confused, though, why his mother didn't seem upset. She was just patiently waiting while the doctor rummaged through some pictures until he returned.
"Ahh, here we are! Take a look at these dragons. Aren't their claws impressive?"
Anton's eyes widened at the pictures. One was of a Wildclaw whose claw had grown in a circle, and had pierced his own foot. The claw tip was even poking out of the top of his foot. Another picture was of a Wildclaw whose claw was all gross, cracked, and bleeding. It looked really thick, but not really sharp. Another Wildclaw's claw was barely holding onto the foot, about to fall off. It was also very thick...
Anton's expression turned into a fearful grimace. He didn't want to wind up like these Wildclaws! He didn't want to say he was wrong, either, but...which was worse? These pictures were disgusting, and frightening!
"I...I don't want claws like
those," Anton told the adults in the den.
"Oh? Why not? Look how big they are!" the doctor innocently asked, shoving the pictures into Anton's face.
"No!" The young Wildclaw reared his hind legs and kicked the pictures away, out of the doctor's hand. "They're gross and look like they hurt! I don't want claws like that! I want
healthy claws! I'll sharpen my claws every day! I
promise!"
The adults smiled, but not maliciously. Then the doctor told Anton, "I'm glad you think so. These are very serious conditions that can be avoided by sharpening your claws often. But yours have a lot of excess claw matter on them right now. I have to take that off, or you'll wind up like the dragons in those pictures. I'll be gentle, so you don't have to worry, but your claws will be sensitive for a while. You still need to sharpen them every day, but sharpen them on soft, cool things until they harden enough to scratch at trees, okay?"
Anton was nervous, but he agreed. Then, the doctor began gently filing at Anton's claws, removing the dead, outer layers until the claw's healthy, inner layers were free. Then, as carefully and gently as he could, he clipped Anton's claws back to a normal length. With every snip, Anton winced, but he didn't say anything. And finally, his claws were free. They felt sensitive and soft, but they felt clean and pretty healthy, too. He walked slowly for a while after that, but after some time went by, Anton was able to run and claw better than he had before his doctor visit. Anton never skipped sharpening his claws again, and he grew into a swift and strong adult, and a keen hunter, as a result.
The End.
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I'll ping people later, when I can remember who might like this story, eheh.
