Safe lay on the warm stones, watching her newly-grown grandchildren. Lymph lay beside her, the wind ruffling his fur. Zone was out scavenging with Losis. Rabi and Chemi lay stretched nearby.
Among the waste and rot were Geri, Pati, Lassa, and Legion. Safe could tell that a couple had sprouted already from the group. Legion, an orphan from the wastes, curled around Pati, whose white scales turned pink in affection. Her sister Lassa giggled nearby beside their uncle Geri, Leth’s last child.
Safe still couldn’t believe that she had grandchildren. And, if the Plaguebringer favored her, she would soon have great-grandchildren.
She couldn’t help but be proud. It had been a long time–sixty-nine days, to be exact–since she had met Zone and started this clan. Seventeen dragons, first started by two dragons and three eggs.
So many had died along the way. Hatchling and adult alike. The plague showed no mercy.
But the time to think of death was not now.
Life lay before her. Her children, blood-related and adopted. Beautiful grandchildren. The prospect of great-grandchildren.
Those were what mattered right now, in this moment.
And Safe wouldn’t let that go.