They were here. Finally.
Thrax nuzzled the three gooey green eggs in the nest. Goo stuck to his blue scales but the Imperial hardly cared.
These were his kids. His babies. His future.
…Well, his and Remia’s.
She had done all the hard work, laying the eggs and all. He just stood on the sidelines and cheered. Now they could reap the fruits of their labor.
In five days, when the eggs hatched.
But it would be worth it. They had children of their own on the way now. They had lived long enough to have these darlings. They had to live to raise them.
Though…the recent incident with Ande left Remia worried. Three of Ande’s clutch had died of the plague. Two of Safe’s nests had been entirely wiped out over the past ninety-two days the clan had existed.
What if it happened to them? What if their children died to the plague?
Thrax didn’t want to think about it. No. It couldn’t happen to them. Surely the strength he had gained in the Coliseum, in Training Fields and Woodland Path, would pass on to his children. Surely they would be strong enough to survive, all of them.
After all, why else would they fight in the wilderness except to increase the odds of their survival?
Because…if that wasn’t why…then what did all of those deaths even mean?