Roleplay
Tell stories and roleplay in the world of Flight Rising.
TOPIC | An Accidental Friendship (private)
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@clarax [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=13762630] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/137627/13762630_350.png[/img] [/url] "M..Meadowsweet?" "Meadowsweet, get up...please." Meadowsweet's ears twitched as the frightened whimpers of a hatchling drew her back towards consciousness. Pain began to flood her entire body, from her head to the very tip of her tail, accompanied by recollection of the past events. She remembered she was soaring above the vast, emerald canopy of the Vidridan Labyrinth, the Behemoth in sight, clutching precious cargo to her chest, a mirror hatchling exaltee named Gallberry. Then, with out warning, excruciating pain struck her wing's bicep, rendering it useless. She remembered plummeting towards the thick forest and how helpless she felt as she and the hatchling neared the canopy. The last thing she remembered was curling into ball around the tiny exaltee right before the tree limbs sliced at her pelt. A distinct rumble traveling through the ground, but it was their scent that filled her keen nostrils first. "Get up! S-Something's coming!" Gallberry tugged frantically on her ear. [i]Centaurs[/i] Her eyes flung open. Relief seem to wash away some of the hatchling's fear now that he knew his protector was alive and awake. Meadowsweet, groaned as she look at her damaged wing. She now knew the source of the intense pain that blotted out her scrapes and aching bones. A large arrow that had impaled her in the wing's bicep. Blood streamed from the ghastly wound, staining her snow white fur crimson. It wasn't her injury that made her blood run cold, it was the the arrow. This thing was big enough to kill a medium sized dragon, like herself, if it had struck her chest. Luckily, the shooter was off on their aim. She recognized that the scent lingering on this deadly weapon matched that of the Centaurs approaching she and Gallberry. They were not Dunhoof. Meadowsweet turned her attention to the exaltee. He was hunched over, his claws tucked under his body and his two sets of large, watery, emerald eyes were fixed on her. He was uninjured but clearly frightened and whimpering. "Shhh, shhh," Meadowsweet cooed, as she smiled gently. "It'll be alright, little sprout, w will make it to the Gladekeeper, I promise." Hope filled Gallberry's small frame upon hear these reassuring words from his elder. Her warm smile disappeared as she felt the hoofbeats grow closer under her claws. She could practically taste their stench on her tongue. If these hostile Centaurs were out for her head, she feared to imagine what they would do with Gallberry. They needed to move, [i]now[/i]. Meadowsweet bit back the pain coursing through her body and forced herself to stand. Fueled by motherly instinct, she grabbed the hatchling by his scruff and she limped towards the undergrowth as fast as her sore legs could carry her. Galloping through the trees, the horse-bodied warriors spotted the injured Tundra. A trail of blood and her white fur betrayed her. The pelt of this dragon would make a nice trophy for Briartail's herd, maybe her skull would make a nice gift to the Great Harpy, Talona. However, the Briartail dragon hunters did not expect her to carrying a Mirror hatchling. The Centaurs had know way of knowing if it was hers nor did they care, but they all agreed that it needed to destroyed before it grew into a bloodthirsty dragon. The Briartail huntress locked her cold gaze on the limping female, Tundra. She held her breath, pulling back on her bow string and aimed for the white Tundra's chest. This time, she won't miss. [i]WHOOSH[/i] Meadow roared in agony, dropping Gallberry from her gaping mouth, as an arrow pierced the side of her chest. Gallberry squeaked as tumbled across the damp forest floor. Dazed, he scrambled to his feet only to find that Meadowsweet had collapsed on her belly, her foreclaws clutching the soft earth beneath them. The Tundra's face was contorted in pain and her breathing was a sharp wheeze. Gallberry's heart sank when he noticed another arrow protruding from her side. Meadowsweet looked up at Gallberry, her eyes where filled with sadness and pain. "Run." she wheezed. Gallberry hesitated, blinking in surprise. "Meado-?" "RUN!!" Meadowsweet roared, flashing her frighteningly, long canines as her voice rolled over Gallberry like thunder. She watched has the hatchling sprinted away into the undergrowth. "Gladekeeper, have mercy." She whispered. Meadowsweet felt a lump grow in her throat as was she faced with the grim realization that she was going to die here. She would never see her clan, her father, or her mate, Agaric, in life again. There probably wouldn't be a body for them to bury. This would destroy Agaric. She only hoped her death would give Gallberry a chance to make it to safety. The Briartails approached her and feeling her blood boil, Meadowsweet curled her lips back and snarled. If they were going to kill her, by Behemoth, she was going to make them work for it.
@clarax


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"M..Meadowsweet?"
"Meadowsweet, get up...please."

Meadowsweet's ears twitched as the frightened whimpers of a hatchling drew her back towards consciousness. Pain began to flood her entire body, from her head to the very tip of her tail, accompanied by recollection of the past events.
She remembered she was soaring above the vast, emerald canopy of the Vidridan Labyrinth, the Behemoth in sight, clutching precious cargo to her chest, a mirror hatchling exaltee named Gallberry. Then, with out warning, excruciating pain struck her wing's bicep, rendering it useless. She remembered plummeting towards the thick forest and how helpless she felt as she and the hatchling neared the canopy. The last thing she remembered was curling into ball around the tiny exaltee right before the tree limbs sliced at her pelt.

A distinct rumble traveling through the ground, but it was their scent that filled her keen nostrils first.

"Get up! S-Something's coming!" Gallberry tugged frantically on her ear.

Centaurs

Her eyes flung open. Relief seem to wash away some of the hatchling's fear now that he knew his protector was alive and awake. Meadowsweet, groaned as she look at her damaged wing. She now knew the source of the intense pain that blotted out her scrapes and aching bones. A large arrow that had impaled her in the wing's bicep. Blood streamed from the ghastly wound, staining her snow white fur crimson. It wasn't her injury that made her blood run cold, it was the the arrow. This thing was big enough to kill a medium sized dragon, like herself, if it had struck her chest. Luckily, the shooter was off on their aim. She recognized that the scent lingering on this deadly weapon matched that of the Centaurs approaching she and Gallberry. They were not Dunhoof.

Meadowsweet turned her attention to the exaltee. He was hunched over, his claws tucked under his body and his two sets of large, watery, emerald eyes were fixed on her. He was uninjured but clearly frightened and whimpering. "Shhh, shhh," Meadowsweet cooed, as she smiled gently. "It'll be alright, little sprout, w will make it to the Gladekeeper, I promise." Hope filled Gallberry's small frame upon hear these reassuring words from his elder. Her warm smile disappeared as she felt the hoofbeats grow closer under her claws. She could practically taste their stench on her tongue. If these hostile Centaurs were out for her head, she feared to imagine what they would do with Gallberry. They needed to move, now. Meadowsweet bit back the pain coursing through her body and forced herself to stand. Fueled by motherly instinct, she grabbed the hatchling by his scruff and she limped towards the undergrowth as fast as her sore legs could carry her.

Galloping through the trees, the horse-bodied warriors spotted the injured Tundra. A trail of blood and her white fur betrayed her. The pelt of this dragon would make a nice trophy for Briartail's herd, maybe her skull would make a nice gift to the Great Harpy, Talona. However, the Briartail dragon hunters did not expect her to carrying a Mirror hatchling. The Centaurs had know way of knowing if it was hers nor did they care, but they all agreed that it needed to destroyed before it grew into a bloodthirsty dragon. The Briartail huntress locked her cold gaze on the limping female, Tundra. She held her breath, pulling back on her bow string and aimed for the white Tundra's chest. This time, she won't miss.

WHOOSH

Meadow roared in agony, dropping Gallberry from her gaping mouth, as an arrow pierced the side of her chest. Gallberry squeaked as tumbled across the damp forest floor. Dazed, he scrambled to his feet only to find that Meadowsweet had collapsed on her belly, her foreclaws clutching the soft earth beneath them. The Tundra's face was contorted in pain and her breathing was a sharp wheeze. Gallberry's heart sank when he noticed another arrow protruding from her side. Meadowsweet looked up at Gallberry, her eyes where filled with sadness and pain. "Run." she wheezed.
Gallberry hesitated, blinking in surprise. "Meado-?"

"RUN!!" Meadowsweet roared, flashing her frighteningly, long canines as her voice rolled over Gallberry like thunder.

She watched has the hatchling sprinted away into the undergrowth. "Gladekeeper, have mercy." She whispered. Meadowsweet felt a lump grow in her throat as was she faced with the grim realization that she was going to die here. She would never see her clan, her father, or her mate, Agaric, in life again. There probably wouldn't be a body for them to bury. This would destroy Agaric. She only hoped her death would give Gallberry a chance to make it to safety. The Briartails approached her and feeling her blood boil, Meadowsweet curled her lips back and snarled. If they were going to kill her, by Behemoth, she was going to make them work for it.








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@EtheHorse [center] [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=17635757] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/176358/17635757_350.png[/img] [/url] [quote] The clouds drifted by, patterns arranging themselves before being blown away. The breeze was cool and calming, and Swiftstrike was enjoying himself. He was doing some personal training for his regiment, and had taken to the skies above the Viridian Labyrinth as his training grounds. He practiced a few rolls in mid-air, tucking his wings in for extra speed. Just as he completed his performance, he heard a whizzing nearby. Instantly alert, he looked around and saw an arrow flash through the air. Instinctively he ducked, even though the arrow wasn't even headed in his direction. That's when he saw the target: A snow-white Tundra clutching a small dragon close to her. He blinked, and suddenly the Tundra was falling, the arrow piercing her wing. The mirror hatchling clutched to remain close to her, crying in fear: He flapped hard, but his wings were unable to carry the both of them. Swiftstrike was quick to react, but not nearly quick enough. He was too late to catch the falling dragons in the air. By the time he approached the hole in the canopy where she had fallen, he could hear the battle cries of a nearby BeastClan. A quick sniff of the air told him they were rebel centaurs. Tail lashing, the clouded Guardian was instantly on the defense. He swooped through the trees and barreled his way past the undergrowth until he saw the Tundra, lying on her side in the clearing. There was yet another arrow wound, this time in her side. And it seemed the mirror had vanished as if without a trace, although to be fair, Swiftstrike was not the best of trackers. The centaurs had not yet made an appearance, but their chanting seemed to echo around the small clearing. Swiftstrike landed beside the Tundra, glanced at her reassuringly, before he turned to face the approaching centaurs with a fierce growl. "I know not who you are, or where your allegiance lies," he called to the centaurs, who had yet to show their faces, "but there is no fight here. Return to where you come from, before I kill you all." He swiped forward, his claws unsheathed, and drew a deep gouge in the earth before him. Honestly, he wasn't sure if he could fight off an entire centaur patrol - he had never killed before, either - but their attack seemed unwarranted, and he knew his matriarch's code. [i]Defeat the bullies, protect the bullied. [/i] The Tundra's snarls behind him added to his warning, and Swiftstrike shifted slightly so he was not fully blocking her. She might need help at the moment, but she certainly didn't need to be sheltered, and he didn't want to offend her immediately. He waited, every muscle tensed, his heart beating fast. He tried to concentrate on the ferns in front of him, instead of the rushing of blood past his ears. Would the centaurs back down? Or would it come to a battle? [/quote][/center]
@EtheHorse

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Quote:
The clouds drifted by, patterns arranging themselves before being blown away. The breeze was cool and calming, and Swiftstrike was enjoying himself. He was doing some personal training for his regiment, and had taken to the skies above the Viridian Labyrinth as his training grounds. He practiced a few rolls in mid-air, tucking his wings in for extra speed. Just as he completed his performance, he heard a whizzing nearby. Instantly alert, he looked around and saw an arrow flash through the air.

Instinctively he ducked, even though the arrow wasn't even headed in his direction. That's when he saw the target: A snow-white Tundra clutching a small dragon close to her. He blinked, and suddenly the Tundra was falling, the arrow piercing her wing. The mirror hatchling clutched to remain close to her, crying in fear: He flapped hard, but his wings were unable to carry the both of them.

Swiftstrike was quick to react, but not nearly quick enough. He was too late to catch the falling dragons in the air. By the time he approached the hole in the canopy where she had fallen, he could hear the battle cries of a nearby BeastClan. A quick sniff of the air told him they were rebel centaurs. Tail lashing, the clouded Guardian was instantly on the defense. He swooped through the trees and barreled his way past the undergrowth until he saw the Tundra, lying on her side in the clearing. There was yet another arrow wound, this time in her side. And it seemed the mirror had vanished as if without a trace, although to be fair, Swiftstrike was not the best of trackers. The centaurs had not yet made an appearance, but their chanting seemed to echo around the small clearing.

Swiftstrike landed beside the Tundra, glanced at her reassuringly, before he turned to face the approaching centaurs with a fierce growl. "I know not who you are, or where your allegiance lies," he called to the centaurs, who had yet to show their faces, "but there is no fight here. Return to where you come from, before I kill you all." He swiped forward, his claws unsheathed, and drew a deep gouge in the earth before him. Honestly, he wasn't sure if he could fight off an entire centaur patrol - he had never killed before, either - but their attack seemed unwarranted, and he knew his matriarch's code.
Defeat the bullies, protect the bullied.

The Tundra's snarls behind him added to his warning, and Swiftstrike shifted slightly so he was not fully blocking her. She might need help at the moment, but she certainly didn't need to be sheltered, and he didn't want to offend her immediately.

He waited, every muscle tensed, his heart beating fast. He tried to concentrate on the ferns in front of him, instead of the rushing of blood past his ears. Would the centaurs back down? Or would it come to a battle?
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@clarax

The shadow of a large dragon descended upon the glade, his giant wings eclipsed the sun. The centaur warriors stopped dead in their tracks. They had not anticipated an interruption from a another dragon, yet alone, a Guardian. "Hold!" Their leader, Stonehoof, commanded firmly. He was a large, muscular centaur and his dark bay coat was speckled with many scars from battle. From the looks of his armor, which was crafted out of dragon hide, this was not his time combating a great wyrm. Stonehoof scoffed, this Guardian was offering he and his warriors a chance to flee, typical Nature dragon. He would be damned if they backed down now, he saw opportunity in this encounter. If they took down this Guardian, they would have the honor of killing three dragons on a single hunt and he was confident that his patrol could handle the task. Right now, they had the advantage, the very foliage that these Nature dragons honored and protected was now working against them by shielding the centaurs from their sight. How ironic. Stonehoof thought. The hardy centaur turned to his warriors. " Here's the plan," He whispered, beckoning for the other centaurs to gather. "Right now we have the element of the surprise, let's use it."


This Guardian that swooped down, Meadowsweet could not have been more grateful for his presence. She found solace in his eyes when he looked back at her, but after a few moments of silence, she felt uneasy as she could still smell her attackers stench. "They're..." She coughed weakly. "They're still out there, I.. I can smell them." Meadowsweet tried to rise to her feet, bit the agony brought upon her by the arrow lodged in her chest forced her back down. She felt so vulnerable in this position, even with her newfound ally standing guard. Meadowsweet cleared her mind to meditate, channeling her magical energy in preparation for an attack. It was the least she could do for the brave Guardian. Her thoughts returned to Gallberry, she dreaded for him having to fend for himself in the deepest darkest parts of the Labyrinth. Even if they did defeat the centuars, she wasn't sure if she would survive her injuries. "Hey, Guardian," she wheezed. "If I don't make it... please.. find Gallberry, I beg of you." Her weak voice trembled with worry. "He's a teal Mirror hatchling, he couldn't have gone far." Desparation filled her distraught, green eyes.

Suddenly, the foliage came alive with a hailstorm of arrows and the battle cries of the centaurs. Meadowsweet gasped when she saw they were directed were directed at the Guardian defender. Her attention was draw away by three centaurs bursting through the thicket, wielding sharp spears. Her heart pounded in her chest as she realized they were coming straight for her. Curling her lips and opened her jaws as magic flowed to her mouth. She spat a well aimed bolt of magic, striking down one the centaurs, but the other two charged head one, undaunted.


@clarax

The shadow of a large dragon descended upon the glade, his giant wings eclipsed the sun. The centaur warriors stopped dead in their tracks. They had not anticipated an interruption from a another dragon, yet alone, a Guardian. "Hold!" Their leader, Stonehoof, commanded firmly. He was a large, muscular centaur and his dark bay coat was speckled with many scars from battle. From the looks of his armor, which was crafted out of dragon hide, this was not his time combating a great wyrm. Stonehoof scoffed, this Guardian was offering he and his warriors a chance to flee, typical Nature dragon. He would be damned if they backed down now, he saw opportunity in this encounter. If they took down this Guardian, they would have the honor of killing three dragons on a single hunt and he was confident that his patrol could handle the task. Right now, they had the advantage, the very foliage that these Nature dragons honored and protected was now working against them by shielding the centaurs from their sight. How ironic. Stonehoof thought. The hardy centaur turned to his warriors. " Here's the plan," He whispered, beckoning for the other centaurs to gather. "Right now we have the element of the surprise, let's use it."


This Guardian that swooped down, Meadowsweet could not have been more grateful for his presence. She found solace in his eyes when he looked back at her, but after a few moments of silence, she felt uneasy as she could still smell her attackers stench. "They're..." She coughed weakly. "They're still out there, I.. I can smell them." Meadowsweet tried to rise to her feet, bit the agony brought upon her by the arrow lodged in her chest forced her back down. She felt so vulnerable in this position, even with her newfound ally standing guard. Meadowsweet cleared her mind to meditate, channeling her magical energy in preparation for an attack. It was the least she could do for the brave Guardian. Her thoughts returned to Gallberry, she dreaded for him having to fend for himself in the deepest darkest parts of the Labyrinth. Even if they did defeat the centuars, she wasn't sure if she would survive her injuries. "Hey, Guardian," she wheezed. "If I don't make it... please.. find Gallberry, I beg of you." Her weak voice trembled with worry. "He's a teal Mirror hatchling, he couldn't have gone far." Desparation filled her distraught, green eyes.

Suddenly, the foliage came alive with a hailstorm of arrows and the battle cries of the centaurs. Meadowsweet gasped when she saw they were directed were directed at the Guardian defender. Her attention was draw away by three centaurs bursting through the thicket, wielding sharp spears. Her heart pounded in her chest as she realized they were coming straight for her. Curling her lips and opened her jaws as magic flowed to her mouth. She spat a well aimed bolt of magic, striking down one the centaurs, but the other two charged head one, undaunted.


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{{ OOC: Oh my gosh. *facepalm* I have no idea how I missed your ping earlier! I'm so sorry! A response will be up tonight! }}
{{ OOC: Oh my gosh. *facepalm* I have no idea how I missed your ping earlier! I'm so sorry! A response will be up tonight! }}
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[center]@EtheHorse ((Sorry for the late response! March was a rough month, but fortunately April is starting to look up!)) [quote]There was no response from the centaurs. Dread flashed through Swiftstrike as the forest seemed to drink in the silence around them, but he pushed that away. He noticed the Tundra dragoness behind him begin to murmur under her breath, collecting magic around her: The Guardian could feel the magic in the air vibrate as it gathered. He crouched down, his claws tensed, waiting for the centaurs to attack. [i]It's not a surprise if we know you're here,[/i] he thought to himself, wondering what the centaurs were thinking. From the scents in the air, it seemed as if the BeastClan patrol wasn't even trying to circle around them. They were directly ahead, and it was only a matter of waiting now... Suddenly she was speaking, and he swiveled around - she had mentioned something about another dragon? Yes, the hatchling she had been carrying. "We'll find him, toge -" Before Swiftstrike could finish speaking, the attack came. Swiftstrike heard the battle cries before the enemy showed themselves. The large dragon reared up, swiping the tiny arrows out of the way as if they were nothing more but falling leaves, but that left him open for the centaurs' harsh hoof-strikes. One at a time, they were nothing but an annoying hailstorm against his tough hide, but targeted all at once, the kicking took its toll. Swiftstrike staggered back under their sheer numbers, before his wings swept out behind him, giving him enough force to thrust forward and strike. The first centaurs in the charge dodged out of the way, but the two behind were caught off guard. The Guardian hit two centaurs with one forefoot, his claws raking through the pelts on their back until he drew blood. The smaller creatures went flying into the nearby thickets, and they did not emerge. Swiftstrike hoped he had just stunned them, but he was already turning to face the other centaurs - two left. They hesitated for a moment, and Swiftstrike growled, baring his teeth. The one, perhaps the leader, narrowed his eyes and charged, undaunted. Swiftstrike stretched his neck, picking up the centaur in his teeth, and crunched down. Something snapped, and the dragon released his opponent with a grunt of disgust - the centaur limped away, his front arms hanging useless at his side. The second centaur was already fleeing. Swiftstrike stood for a moment, breathing heavily. Time had slowed for a moment, and the battle seemed to be much longer than it truly was - now it sped up again, and he remembered why he had been fighting, for his companion. He turned quickly, his tail lashing and almost hitting the two centaurs approaching her. It was clear that they had waited until the rest of their herd had distracted him before making a move for her. And although the Tundra had already taken out one centaur, the other two seemed merciless. Swiftstrike growled, low in his throat, catching the attention of one of the centaurs. She let out a wild cry before splitting from her teammate - still targeting the Tundra - and charging Swiftstrike. The Guardian snorted, crouching low and allowing the centaur to come closer before he lowered his head and thrust, his long horns knocking her over. Her spear went flying. As she struggling to right herself, Swiftstrike moved to stand over her, his eyes narrowed. She spit in his face, but the Guardian didn't even flinch. With one claw, he drew a line of blood along her neck and said quietly, "This was unnecessary. Leave us alone, or next time we will not be so merciful." She laughed in his face, even as her blood clotted in her clothing. "You call this merciful? You dragons do not know the meaning of the word." "Apparently, neither do you," Swiftstrike responded coolly, before he hit her in the head with his forefoot, knocking her out cold. [/quote][/center]
@EtheHorse ((Sorry for the late response! March was a rough month, but fortunately April is starting to look up!))
Quote:
There was no response from the centaurs. Dread flashed through Swiftstrike as the forest seemed to drink in the silence around them, but he pushed that away. He noticed the Tundra dragoness behind him begin to murmur under her breath, collecting magic around her: The Guardian could feel the magic in the air vibrate as it gathered. He crouched down, his claws tensed, waiting for the centaurs to attack. It's not a surprise if we know you're here, he thought to himself, wondering what the centaurs were thinking. From the scents in the air, it seemed as if the BeastClan patrol wasn't even trying to circle around them. They were directly ahead, and it was only a matter of waiting now...

Suddenly she was speaking, and he swiveled around - she had mentioned something about another dragon? Yes, the hatchling she had been carrying. "We'll find him, toge -"

Before Swiftstrike could finish speaking, the attack came. Swiftstrike heard the battle cries before the enemy showed themselves. The large dragon reared up, swiping the tiny arrows out of the way as if they were nothing more but falling leaves, but that left him open for the centaurs' harsh hoof-strikes. One at a time, they were nothing but an annoying hailstorm against his tough hide, but targeted all at once, the kicking took its toll.

Swiftstrike staggered back under their sheer numbers, before his wings swept out behind him, giving him enough force to thrust forward and strike. The first centaurs in the charge dodged out of the way, but the two behind were caught off guard. The Guardian hit two centaurs with one forefoot, his claws raking through the pelts on their back until he drew blood. The smaller creatures went flying into the nearby thickets, and they did not emerge. Swiftstrike hoped he had just stunned them, but he was already turning to face the other centaurs - two left. They hesitated for a moment, and Swiftstrike growled, baring his teeth.

The one, perhaps the leader, narrowed his eyes and charged, undaunted. Swiftstrike stretched his neck, picking up the centaur in his teeth, and crunched down. Something snapped, and the dragon released his opponent with a grunt of disgust - the centaur limped away, his front arms hanging useless at his side. The second centaur was already fleeing.

Swiftstrike stood for a moment, breathing heavily. Time had slowed for a moment, and the battle seemed to be much longer than it truly was - now it sped up again, and he remembered why he had been fighting, for his companion. He turned quickly, his tail lashing and almost hitting the two centaurs approaching her. It was clear that they had waited until the rest of their herd had distracted him before making a move for her.

And although the Tundra had already taken out one centaur, the other two seemed merciless. Swiftstrike growled, low in his throat, catching the attention of one of the centaurs. She let out a wild cry before splitting from her teammate - still targeting the Tundra - and charging Swiftstrike. The Guardian snorted, crouching low and allowing the centaur to come closer before he lowered his head and thrust, his long horns knocking her over. Her spear went flying. As she struggling to right herself, Swiftstrike moved to stand over her, his eyes narrowed. She spit in his face, but the Guardian didn't even flinch. With one claw, he drew a line of blood along her neck and said quietly, "This was unnecessary. Leave us alone, or next time we will not be so merciful."

She laughed in his face, even as her blood clotted in her clothing. "You call this merciful? You dragons do not know the meaning of the word."

"Apparently, neither do you," Swiftstrike responded coolly, before he hit her in the head with his forefoot, knocking her out cold.
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@clarax again, so sorry for taking AGES to reply!

A centaur bounded towards the downed Tundra, his muscular legs galloped across the soft earth, leaving hoof prints in his wake. He weaved under the Guardian's body, dodging the dragon's great tail as it swung over his head. He barely seemed to notice that his patrol was retreating, or that his partner had just been struck down. The burning hatred in his eyes chilled Meadowsweet to the bone. The hell bent warrior shrieked a battle cry before thrusting his spear at her. Meadowsweet felt the sharp head clip her fur as she dodged in the nick of time. Thinking fast, she clamped down on the spear with her strong jaws. The centaur growled in frustration as he struggled to free his weapon from her vice-like grip. Using his own spear against him, she flung the roan centaur to the ground with a thud, pinning him down with her weight. The warrior gritted his teeth as he fought in vain to free himself. A throaty growl rumbled through the Tundra's throat shortly before he ripped his weapon from his grasp. The warrior watched helplessly as he watch the white dragon toss is only defense into the thick foliage. He found himself staring into her piercing, emerald eyes and feeling her hot, sticky breath run down his face as it escaped through her ferocious fangs. He was he was completely at her mercy, or was he? He felt something hot and stick drip on his legs. The arrow in her side, of course!
"Flee boy," Meadowsweet growled, curling back in lips in a monstrous snarl. " Before I kill you."
"Never." The centaur snarled back. His hind leg shot out and struck the lodged arrow with all the strength he could muster.

Pain erupted from Meadowsweet's chest as his hoof broke off the arrows shaft and twisted the head further into her flesh. Blood gushed from the aggravated injury like an unforgiving crimson river as her cries of agony pierced the air. Pain clouded her thoughts as she stumbled back and crumpled over on her side. With blood pooling from her body, Meadowsweet found herself becoming increasingly disoriented. Through the dazed veil, she saw that the centaur has already gotten to his feet and had started towards her, pulling out an axe from his belt. She felt her stomach drop in fear at the pain to come. No, not like this. Gallberry was still out there. She had to get to him, he needed her to get to him. Fueled by shear will power, Meadowsweet began to channel her energy, her magic. She felt the presence of seeds buried underneath her foe's hooves. She remember the ancient magic her father taught her long ago, an ancient magic that was thought to have been passed down by the Gladekeeper herself. It came natural to every Nature dragon, but only a few were skilled enough to use flora manipulation effectively in battle, however, the advantage of being a Nature dragon in the Viridian Labyrinth is that there are many plants at one's command. Meadowsweet strained herself as she forced the seeds to sprout into thorny vines. The whipped violently as the crawled and slithered their way up his legs. The warrior cried in surprise at the briars curling around his body. He slash desperately at them with his axe only to have his wrists restrained by the ever growing vines. He fought with all his might to break free but the more kicked and buck, the more the thorns tore at his flesh. It was not long before the once battle harden warrior had disappeared entirely underneath a cocoon of briars and had stopped struggling altogether to free himself from the thorny prison. Exhausted and dazed, Meadowsweet forced herself to stand on her shaking legs. She lowered her head to the ground and started sniffing for the hatchling's scent.


A young, painted, centaur colt raced blindly through the forest as fast as his skinny legs could carry him. He had given in completely to fear during the battle. He wanted to flee with the rest but the huge Guardian blocked his path and could just see the frightening dragon gobbling him up as if he were a snack. He felt guilt stab at his heart for abandoning his mentor when saw the Guardian take her out with his big talons. He did not even know if she was still alive. The others were right. He was coward, whether he wanted to admit it or not. His thoughts were interrupted as his hoof caught on a root and tumbled down a sloped with a yelp, scraping his legs and coat on the rocks and branches hidden under the leaves. The colt grunted as his flailing body fell into a small stream with a great splash. "Ugh!" The centaur looked at self as he clambered back on his hooves. His coat and armor was soaking wet and his rump was covered in mud. Great, could this day get any worse? Sniffling and clutching himself, he climbed out the muddy water. He paused to catch his bearings. Nether of the dragons seemed to have given chase to him, which was good, but the he felt his stomach drop. He did not know were he was. All the trees, the scents, they were the same. He was hopelessly lost. Tears welled up in his eyes as slumped down against a tree. How was he going to get back to the safety of the herd now? He had very little survival training. The colt started to cry silently at the realization that he could die out here and no one would ever know. Suddenly, shrieks echoed in the distance and snapped him from his despair. He shot up to his feet and clutched his bow. It sounded like a Furian. A Furian and a.. Talonok? Fear and hope simultaneously rose in his chest. If it was a another Beastkind, he was saved. Maybe they could take him back to the Briartail herd, but it sounded like they needed help. He crept towards the source of the sound, bow drawn. Sure enough, it there was a Furian. The scaly dragon-like creature a was clawing at something that was taking refuge under a mossy boulder. The beast hissed and tried to shove its snout through. The young centaur saw that the Furian had made the hole big that it could quite possibly succeed. It was now or never, he had to save what was ever in there. Taking a deep breath he drew back his bow and aimed a the Furian's neck. He only had few arrows left and prayed that the winged creature would not attack him. The colt released the string and sent arrow flying into the Furian's skin. Thankfully, Furian scales were softer than a Guardian's and the arrow pierced its hide. Startled, the beast reared back, screeching as it clawed it at the shaft. Much to his relief, the Furian decided it was not worth it and took off to the sky, rising above the canopy. After waiting until it was out of the sight, the painted colt raced over to the hole and peered down into the dusty darkness. "Are you alrig-" He gasped as he laid on eyes on what he has just saved. It was no Talonok, but a dragon hatchling, the same hatchling the white Tundra was carrying.

The baby dragon snarled and swiped at the centaur with its tiny claws. Fear raced through his mind. He had to get out of here, before the other dragons find him with it. Suddenly he stopped, or... he could nab it and bring it back to the herd, before it grows into.. a dragon. He shook his head, no, no, the poor thing was defenseless. Where was the honor in killing something that could not defend itself? He turned back to the hatchling, who was now cautiously poking its head out of its protective hole. Now that he got a closer look, it was pretty cute. The young centaur did not know what to do. He couldn't just leave to fend for itself, the Tundra was probably dead by now and another Furian would snatch it up before the Guardian found it. But what would he do with a dragon hatchling? If he brought it back to the herd, they'd kill it, if he brought it to another dragon, they would kill him, right?
@clarax again, so sorry for taking AGES to reply!

A centaur bounded towards the downed Tundra, his muscular legs galloped across the soft earth, leaving hoof prints in his wake. He weaved under the Guardian's body, dodging the dragon's great tail as it swung over his head. He barely seemed to notice that his patrol was retreating, or that his partner had just been struck down. The burning hatred in his eyes chilled Meadowsweet to the bone. The hell bent warrior shrieked a battle cry before thrusting his spear at her. Meadowsweet felt the sharp head clip her fur as she dodged in the nick of time. Thinking fast, she clamped down on the spear with her strong jaws. The centaur growled in frustration as he struggled to free his weapon from her vice-like grip. Using his own spear against him, she flung the roan centaur to the ground with a thud, pinning him down with her weight. The warrior gritted his teeth as he fought in vain to free himself. A throaty growl rumbled through the Tundra's throat shortly before he ripped his weapon from his grasp. The warrior watched helplessly as he watch the white dragon toss is only defense into the thick foliage. He found himself staring into her piercing, emerald eyes and feeling her hot, sticky breath run down his face as it escaped through her ferocious fangs. He was he was completely at her mercy, or was he? He felt something hot and stick drip on his legs. The arrow in her side, of course!
"Flee boy," Meadowsweet growled, curling back in lips in a monstrous snarl. " Before I kill you."
"Never." The centaur snarled back. His hind leg shot out and struck the lodged arrow with all the strength he could muster.

Pain erupted from Meadowsweet's chest as his hoof broke off the arrows shaft and twisted the head further into her flesh. Blood gushed from the aggravated injury like an unforgiving crimson river as her cries of agony pierced the air. Pain clouded her thoughts as she stumbled back and crumpled over on her side. With blood pooling from her body, Meadowsweet found herself becoming increasingly disoriented. Through the dazed veil, she saw that the centaur has already gotten to his feet and had started towards her, pulling out an axe from his belt. She felt her stomach drop in fear at the pain to come. No, not like this. Gallberry was still out there. She had to get to him, he needed her to get to him. Fueled by shear will power, Meadowsweet began to channel her energy, her magic. She felt the presence of seeds buried underneath her foe's hooves. She remember the ancient magic her father taught her long ago, an ancient magic that was thought to have been passed down by the Gladekeeper herself. It came natural to every Nature dragon, but only a few were skilled enough to use flora manipulation effectively in battle, however, the advantage of being a Nature dragon in the Viridian Labyrinth is that there are many plants at one's command. Meadowsweet strained herself as she forced the seeds to sprout into thorny vines. The whipped violently as the crawled and slithered their way up his legs. The warrior cried in surprise at the briars curling around his body. He slash desperately at them with his axe only to have his wrists restrained by the ever growing vines. He fought with all his might to break free but the more kicked and buck, the more the thorns tore at his flesh. It was not long before the once battle harden warrior had disappeared entirely underneath a cocoon of briars and had stopped struggling altogether to free himself from the thorny prison. Exhausted and dazed, Meadowsweet forced herself to stand on her shaking legs. She lowered her head to the ground and started sniffing for the hatchling's scent.


A young, painted, centaur colt raced blindly through the forest as fast as his skinny legs could carry him. He had given in completely to fear during the battle. He wanted to flee with the rest but the huge Guardian blocked his path and could just see the frightening dragon gobbling him up as if he were a snack. He felt guilt stab at his heart for abandoning his mentor when saw the Guardian take her out with his big talons. He did not even know if she was still alive. The others were right. He was coward, whether he wanted to admit it or not. His thoughts were interrupted as his hoof caught on a root and tumbled down a sloped with a yelp, scraping his legs and coat on the rocks and branches hidden under the leaves. The colt grunted as his flailing body fell into a small stream with a great splash. "Ugh!" The centaur looked at self as he clambered back on his hooves. His coat and armor was soaking wet and his rump was covered in mud. Great, could this day get any worse? Sniffling and clutching himself, he climbed out the muddy water. He paused to catch his bearings. Nether of the dragons seemed to have given chase to him, which was good, but the he felt his stomach drop. He did not know were he was. All the trees, the scents, they were the same. He was hopelessly lost. Tears welled up in his eyes as slumped down against a tree. How was he going to get back to the safety of the herd now? He had very little survival training. The colt started to cry silently at the realization that he could die out here and no one would ever know. Suddenly, shrieks echoed in the distance and snapped him from his despair. He shot up to his feet and clutched his bow. It sounded like a Furian. A Furian and a.. Talonok? Fear and hope simultaneously rose in his chest. If it was a another Beastkind, he was saved. Maybe they could take him back to the Briartail herd, but it sounded like they needed help. He crept towards the source of the sound, bow drawn. Sure enough, it there was a Furian. The scaly dragon-like creature a was clawing at something that was taking refuge under a mossy boulder. The beast hissed and tried to shove its snout through. The young centaur saw that the Furian had made the hole big that it could quite possibly succeed. It was now or never, he had to save what was ever in there. Taking a deep breath he drew back his bow and aimed a the Furian's neck. He only had few arrows left and prayed that the winged creature would not attack him. The colt released the string and sent arrow flying into the Furian's skin. Thankfully, Furian scales were softer than a Guardian's and the arrow pierced its hide. Startled, the beast reared back, screeching as it clawed it at the shaft. Much to his relief, the Furian decided it was not worth it and took off to the sky, rising above the canopy. After waiting until it was out of the sight, the painted colt raced over to the hole and peered down into the dusty darkness. "Are you alrig-" He gasped as he laid on eyes on what he has just saved. It was no Talonok, but a dragon hatchling, the same hatchling the white Tundra was carrying.

The baby dragon snarled and swiped at the centaur with its tiny claws. Fear raced through his mind. He had to get out of here, before the other dragons find him with it. Suddenly he stopped, or... he could nab it and bring it back to the herd, before it grows into.. a dragon. He shook his head, no, no, the poor thing was defenseless. Where was the honor in killing something that could not defend itself? He turned back to the hatchling, who was now cautiously poking its head out of its protective hole. Now that he got a closer look, it was pretty cute. The young centaur did not know what to do. He couldn't just leave to fend for itself, the Tundra was probably dead by now and another Furian would snatch it up before the Guardian found it. But what would he do with a dragon hatchling? If he brought it back to the herd, they'd kill it, if he brought it to another dragon, they would kill him, right?
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(( @EtheHorse No worries! I know life can get really busy sometimes, and this is just casual, for fun. :3 ))
Quote:
With the last magical attack from the Tundra, the battle was over.

Swiftstrike took a moment to steady himself, panting heavily. He had his eyes closed, willing himself to believe that he had done the right thing in injuring - perhaps even killing - the BeastClan herd. He had never done something like that before . . . and yes, he may have craved excitement and an adventure worthy of legends, but he hadn't been expecting - this.

Suddenly, the soft rustle of fur and the stench of blood wafted over him, bringing him out of his thoughts. He turned to the Tundra and was shocked to see her moving around, the wound in her side dripping blood. It looked worse than before. The centaurs must have injured her more before the dragons had defeated them - Swiftstrike must have missed that part of the battle completely, so distracted was he.

The Guardian rushed to her side, stopping himself just before he was about to run her over. "What are you doing?" he asked her, his wings tucked into his side. "We need to get you to help! Look at your wound."

He squinted at her and thought, She looks like a worried mother...

Suddenly, Swiftstrike remembered what had happened before the fight, and he felt like a Shade-brain. "I will call for help from my Clan, if you'd like. We can heal you, and send scouts for the hatchling." His offering seemed weak, but he hoped it was acceptable. His Clan's lair was not too far from here. The medic - what was his name again? That shiny-furred Tundra was still quite new to the Clan - well, whoever he was, the medic could be here soon to help patch up the Tundra.

Until then, Swiftstrike knelt by the dragoness' side to offer his shoulder in support - despite the wound, despite appearing as if she was about to fall over, despite everything, she was still in search for her missing hatchling.
(( @EtheHorse No worries! I know life can get really busy sometimes, and this is just casual, for fun. :3 ))
Quote:
With the last magical attack from the Tundra, the battle was over.

Swiftstrike took a moment to steady himself, panting heavily. He had his eyes closed, willing himself to believe that he had done the right thing in injuring - perhaps even killing - the BeastClan herd. He had never done something like that before . . . and yes, he may have craved excitement and an adventure worthy of legends, but he hadn't been expecting - this.

Suddenly, the soft rustle of fur and the stench of blood wafted over him, bringing him out of his thoughts. He turned to the Tundra and was shocked to see her moving around, the wound in her side dripping blood. It looked worse than before. The centaurs must have injured her more before the dragons had defeated them - Swiftstrike must have missed that part of the battle completely, so distracted was he.

The Guardian rushed to her side, stopping himself just before he was about to run her over. "What are you doing?" he asked her, his wings tucked into his side. "We need to get you to help! Look at your wound."

He squinted at her and thought, She looks like a worried mother...

Suddenly, Swiftstrike remembered what had happened before the fight, and he felt like a Shade-brain. "I will call for help from my Clan, if you'd like. We can heal you, and send scouts for the hatchling." His offering seemed weak, but he hoped it was acceptable. His Clan's lair was not too far from here. The medic - what was his name again? That shiny-furred Tundra was still quite new to the Clan - well, whoever he was, the medic could be here soon to help patch up the Tundra.

Until then, Swiftstrike knelt by the dragoness' side to offer his shoulder in support - despite the wound, despite appearing as if she was about to fall over, despite everything, she was still in search for her missing hatchling.
1u3H6jas.png
@clarax (Sorry this is a little short)

She could barely identify any scent that passed through her nostrils, the rich soil, the sweet smelling flowers, not even the earthy musk of the trees she could recall. Her mind was lost in a haze, so much so that she could not grasp the Guardian's words, but, she sensed urgency in his tone. The forest began to spin from underneath her paws, planting a seed nausea in the pit of her stomach. Meadowsweet's legs trembled with weakness as she struggled for balance. Her mangled fur brushed against the Guardian's rough hide as she offered her weight to him.
"I can't.. I can't remember." Her voice trembled. She turned her head towards the concerned Guardian, her pink nose paling, as her soft, green eyes filled up with tears. She shook her head as guilt tore at her heart. "It's all my fault, it's all my fault, he's gone and it's all my fault!"

Meadowsweet slid to the ground to remedy her lightheadedness. She grimaced as the torn muscles from her gushing wound twitched and she clasped the lesion with her paw. Glittered crimson streams oozed between claws. With each drop that escaped her body, she became fainter. Despite her slipping grasp on reality, one thing was clear to her. She had to tell him where she was from, so her clan can know what happened. "My name is Meadowsweet, I'm from Oakmere" She said under labored breath. "Please, get Lichen."



@clarax (Sorry this is a little short)

She could barely identify any scent that passed through her nostrils, the rich soil, the sweet smelling flowers, not even the earthy musk of the trees she could recall. Her mind was lost in a haze, so much so that she could not grasp the Guardian's words, but, she sensed urgency in his tone. The forest began to spin from underneath her paws, planting a seed nausea in the pit of her stomach. Meadowsweet's legs trembled with weakness as she struggled for balance. Her mangled fur brushed against the Guardian's rough hide as she offered her weight to him.
"I can't.. I can't remember." Her voice trembled. She turned her head towards the concerned Guardian, her pink nose paling, as her soft, green eyes filled up with tears. She shook her head as guilt tore at her heart. "It's all my fault, it's all my fault, he's gone and it's all my fault!"

Meadowsweet slid to the ground to remedy her lightheadedness. She grimaced as the torn muscles from her gushing wound twitched and she clasped the lesion with her paw. Glittered crimson streams oozed between claws. With each drop that escaped her body, she became fainter. Despite her slipping grasp on reality, one thing was clear to her. She had to tell him where she was from, so her clan can know what happened. "My name is Meadowsweet, I'm from Oakmere" She said under labored breath. "Please, get Lichen."



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@EtheHorse [center][quote] "Shh, shh," the Guardian found himself whispering, hoping to soothe the distraught Tundra. His eyes crinkled as he did so - he had never found himself in such a situation before. His tail twitched anxiously. He helped her lie down so that she was more comfortable, and he began licking her wounds. As he did so, he managed to coax a Lesser Wisp from the crystal bauble he carried under his neck, and he urgently relayed the message to his familiar. "Please, bring the medic here! And Oshkana will be needed too!" The Wisp glowed three times in response, before flitting off into the woods. Swiftstrike forced himself to breathe calmly, to calm the Tundra - Meadowsweet of Oakmere. "Meadowsweet. My name is Swiftstrike, and I come from the Clarus Clan," he introduced himself. "I would say it's a pleasure to meet you... but I do wish we had met under different circumstances." He tried not to bemoan the fact; it was not the time. Instead, Swiftstrike said, "We will find the hatchling, Lichen." He fell silent as the Tundra's breathing slowed, but steadied - she was falling into an unconscious doze, but it seemed as if she was stabilizing. He continued licking her wounds, and was relieved to see the bleeding was nearly stopped. [i]Just hold on for a bit longer,[/i] Swiftstrike prayed silently. ------- It was not long before Swiftstrike's Lesser Wisp returned to the clearing with two dragons in tow. [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=20103156] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/201032/20103156_350.png[/img] [/url] Marcel, the Clan's new medic, was instantly by Meadowsweet's side. Swiftstrike silently relinquished the warmed spot to the Tundra, who began to unpack his equipment from his satchel. He quickly got to work, disinfecting the wound and wrapping it in a thick cobweb-like gauze to protect it. [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=11989445] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/119895/11989445_350.png[/img] [/url] Meanwhile, 'Kana was flitting by Swiftstrike's side. The Spiral scout picked up the details quickly. "A small mirror hatchling," the Guardian told him what he had seen. "Fell to the forest here, but Meadowsweet told him to run as the centaurs were attacking." The Scout nodded, zipping towards the treeline. The clearing was bathed in the scent of blood and terror, but mirror-smell was distinctly coming from the west end. "I will be quick," 'Kana promised the gathered dragons, before disappearing into the forest beyond. [/quote][/center]
@EtheHorse
Quote:
"Shh, shh," the Guardian found himself whispering, hoping to soothe the distraught Tundra. His eyes crinkled as he did so - he had never found himself in such a situation before. His tail twitched anxiously. He helped her lie down so that she was more comfortable, and he began licking her wounds. As he did so, he managed to coax a Lesser Wisp from the crystal bauble he carried under his neck, and he urgently relayed the message to his familiar. "Please, bring the medic here! And Oshkana will be needed too!" The Wisp glowed three times in response, before flitting off into the woods.

Swiftstrike forced himself to breathe calmly, to calm the Tundra - Meadowsweet of Oakmere.

"Meadowsweet. My name is Swiftstrike, and I come from the Clarus Clan," he introduced himself. "I would say it's a pleasure to meet you... but I do wish we had met under different circumstances." He tried not to bemoan the fact; it was not the time. Instead, Swiftstrike said, "We will find the hatchling, Lichen." He fell silent as the Tundra's breathing slowed, but steadied - she was falling into an unconscious doze, but it seemed as if she was stabilizing. He continued licking her wounds, and was relieved to see the bleeding was nearly stopped. Just hold on for a bit longer, Swiftstrike prayed silently.



It was not long before Swiftstrike's Lesser Wisp returned to the clearing with two dragons in tow.


20103156_350.png


Marcel, the Clan's new medic, was instantly by Meadowsweet's side. Swiftstrike silently relinquished the warmed spot to the Tundra, who began to unpack his equipment from his satchel. He quickly got to work, disinfecting the wound and wrapping it in a thick cobweb-like gauze to protect it.


11989445_350.png


Meanwhile, 'Kana was flitting by Swiftstrike's side. The Spiral scout picked up the details quickly. "A small mirror hatchling," the Guardian told him what he had seen. "Fell to the forest here, but Meadowsweet told him to run as the centaurs were attacking." The Scout nodded, zipping towards the treeline. The clearing was bathed in the scent of blood and terror, but mirror-smell was distinctly coming from the west end. "I will be quick," 'Kana promised the gathered dragons, before disappearing into the forest beyond.
1u3H6jas.png
@clarax

Meadowsweet shook her head a Swiftstrike. " No, no, Lichen is.. my clan's leader." She cringed as Marcel worked on her tender wound. "The hatching's name is Gallberry." Although the bleeding was slowing down, thanks to the spider web gauze, her stomach felt like it had consumed a wingful of poisonous berries and her body hurt all over as if boulders had crushed her bones. If it weren't the hatchling's peril, she would have let herself slip away into a merciful sleep long ago.

Father will take care of everything. She reassured herself.

She watched as the Spiral take off towards the treeline to search for the lost hatchling. Meadowsweet felt tears of gratefulness towards these dragons gather in her eyes and she did not bother to hide them. The Tundra gently rested her head on the ground and let out purifying sigh through her nostrils.

These dragons will take care of it too, rest now, Meadowsweet, your work here is done.

She slowly closed her heavy, emerald eyes, welcoming the calm, painless sleep that had been beckoning her. Meadowsweet allowed her mind to slip away into thoughts of her clan, happy memories of her sisters, her mother, her children, and her beloved best friend and mate, Agaric. She was finally at peace.




"My name's Nimblelegs." The painted colt told Gallberry. The young colt knelt to the ground as he drew out a pouch of oats. He wondered if dragons named their children too. The thought that this little one could have a name like his fascinated him, and made him feel guilty for helping kill his kind. Gallberry's four, green eyes watched warily from the darkness of the little, makeshift den. " Do you want some?" Nimblelegs asked the frightened hatchling. " It's just oats, see?" The colt popped a handful in his mouth then offered another to the little Mirror. The teal hatchling stretched out his neck to lick the oats, but immediately spat them out once his tongue brought some to his mouth. Gallberry gave a disgusted hissed a withdrew back into the safety of the den.

Nimblelegs frowned and poured the remaining oats back into the pouch. "Not a fan oats, huh?" He couldn't help but feel sorry for the hatchling. Poor thing was probably frightened. The Tundra was ripped from him so suddenly. Nimblelegs had no way of asking him if she was his mother or not, but she must have been someone close. He thought back to his mentor, and how the Guardian's massive claws struck her down with a sickening crack. She had raised him more than his own mother or anyone else in the herd, and he could help but care about her, even if she was a pain in the rump. Now didn't even know if she had survived. "Look," He sighed to the hatchling, folding his spindly legs under his equine belly. "You have no reason to trust me but, I'm sorry, for happened to you, I wish there was someway I could help." The painted colt looked at his muddied hooves sadly. He felt tears well up in his eyes as he wondered if he would ever see his herd again.

A warm body pushed itself next to him, and he looked over, much to his surprise, to see that the teal hatchling was curled up tightly beside him. The hatchling looked up at him with big, sad, emerald eyes that seemed to empathize with him. Nimblelegs blinked at the hatchling smiled, gently placing a hand on Gallberry's shoulder. The little Mirror settled his tiny head on the young Centaur's foreleg and whimpered, wrapping his paws around, like he doesn't want the painted colt to leave. Nimblelegs petted the hatchling, he didn't want this little guy to leave him either. They might be alone in this vast sea of trees, but at least they had each other.
@clarax

Meadowsweet shook her head a Swiftstrike. " No, no, Lichen is.. my clan's leader." She cringed as Marcel worked on her tender wound. "The hatching's name is Gallberry." Although the bleeding was slowing down, thanks to the spider web gauze, her stomach felt like it had consumed a wingful of poisonous berries and her body hurt all over as if boulders had crushed her bones. If it weren't the hatchling's peril, she would have let herself slip away into a merciful sleep long ago.

Father will take care of everything. She reassured herself.

She watched as the Spiral take off towards the treeline to search for the lost hatchling. Meadowsweet felt tears of gratefulness towards these dragons gather in her eyes and she did not bother to hide them. The Tundra gently rested her head on the ground and let out purifying sigh through her nostrils.

These dragons will take care of it too, rest now, Meadowsweet, your work here is done.

She slowly closed her heavy, emerald eyes, welcoming the calm, painless sleep that had been beckoning her. Meadowsweet allowed her mind to slip away into thoughts of her clan, happy memories of her sisters, her mother, her children, and her beloved best friend and mate, Agaric. She was finally at peace.




"My name's Nimblelegs." The painted colt told Gallberry. The young colt knelt to the ground as he drew out a pouch of oats. He wondered if dragons named their children too. The thought that this little one could have a name like his fascinated him, and made him feel guilty for helping kill his kind. Gallberry's four, green eyes watched warily from the darkness of the little, makeshift den. " Do you want some?" Nimblelegs asked the frightened hatchling. " It's just oats, see?" The colt popped a handful in his mouth then offered another to the little Mirror. The teal hatchling stretched out his neck to lick the oats, but immediately spat them out once his tongue brought some to his mouth. Gallberry gave a disgusted hissed a withdrew back into the safety of the den.

Nimblelegs frowned and poured the remaining oats back into the pouch. "Not a fan oats, huh?" He couldn't help but feel sorry for the hatchling. Poor thing was probably frightened. The Tundra was ripped from him so suddenly. Nimblelegs had no way of asking him if she was his mother or not, but she must have been someone close. He thought back to his mentor, and how the Guardian's massive claws struck her down with a sickening crack. She had raised him more than his own mother or anyone else in the herd, and he could help but care about her, even if she was a pain in the rump. Now didn't even know if she had survived. "Look," He sighed to the hatchling, folding his spindly legs under his equine belly. "You have no reason to trust me but, I'm sorry, for happened to you, I wish there was someway I could help." The painted colt looked at his muddied hooves sadly. He felt tears well up in his eyes as he wondered if he would ever see his herd again.

A warm body pushed itself next to him, and he looked over, much to his surprise, to see that the teal hatchling was curled up tightly beside him. The hatchling looked up at him with big, sad, emerald eyes that seemed to empathize with him. Nimblelegs blinked at the hatchling smiled, gently placing a hand on Gallberry's shoulder. The little Mirror settled his tiny head on the young Centaur's foreleg and whimpered, wrapping his paws around, like he doesn't want the painted colt to leave. Nimblelegs petted the hatchling, he didn't want this little guy to leave him either. They might be alone in this vast sea of trees, but at least they had each other.
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