Fairytales are not found, they are written in the walls

Another of Safe’s children had died today.

After many complications with this nest, only one of the two hatchlings lived–a little cherry Mirror named Lis. Her Guardian brother, Ignious, died moments after breaking free of his egg. Zone had taken the body to bury it, leaving Safe to care for her new daughter.

It was disgusting, how used to this they all were. Death was viewed with indifference. The living were dutifully cared for while the dead were swiftly buried. This was their routine now.

Even hatchlings no longer stayed innocent to such scenes.

Lupus, a young blue Spiral found in the wastes, watched Zone carry Ignious’ limp form away. The tiny hatchling, nearly grown, huddled close to Parkin. The albino Snapper, a fellow orphan who had grown days ago, watched the scene indifferently before nudging Lupus away to give Safe space.

Death was simply part of life now. They could not argue or evade it. They had to accept it.

Safe nuzzled her daughter gently, heart soaring with every hungry squeak that broke through those tiny jaws. In two more days, she would bear another nest. Until then, Lis would command her full attention.

Because of the complications of this nest, Lis was very late to be born. While Safe cared for her next nest, the newborn would be surrendered to her oldest daughter Chemi to care for. Chemi had ached for another nest of her own. Caring for Lis should pacify her.

Safe just hoped Lis survived and was happy. That was all she wanted.

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down

Laria’s death had been just the beginning. Scorched Forest was thirsty for blood. It had only just begun its massive killing spree.

Two days later, two more dragons fell to the beasts that lurked within the ashen wastes that made up the forest. Ponti, Tryp’s only daughter, and Theria, Betes’ prized daughter, had both fallen. Winse was powerless to defend either one against their attackers. He returned home with the blood of a niece and his own child on his paws.

Betes had been horrified, falling into a stunned silence at the sight of her daughter’s body. Rosi wandered away, dumbstruck at the thought of her sister being dead. Malar carefully maneuvered Ponti’s children away before they could see her mangled body. Nobody could speak.

Funerals and burials were held. Pall watched over the children–Histo and Flin’s two rambunctious Mirror kids, Tigo and Papillo. They would not be told of the deaths until later.

Theria and Ponti were not the only deaths that day. Lymph and Ande had suffered losses in their nest. Two of the hatchlings failed to live, a pair of tiny Ridgebacks that were named Necro and Uma. Their brother, Chizo, clung to life persistently. The two hatchlings were buried close to Ponti and Theria’s graves.

But Scorched Forest was not done robbing their clan of valued members. Two days later, an immense disaster struck.

There were two forays into Scorched Forest that day. The remaining members were desperate to get stronger. Scorched Forest was their best bet to do so.

During the first trip, Pall met his end. Thrax and Lymph had been unable to help the blue Fae. Thrax even began to suspect that Pall purposely put himself in the line of fire, unable to continue forward without his mate. Whatever the reason, their three biological children and their adopted son Morquio were left orphaned.

During the second trip, nobody returned. For the first time in over one hundred and forty days, those that went into the wilderness did not return.

After several hours, Zone went in search of them. Hours later, the tomato Guardian staggered home with three bodies across his broad back. The whole clan was struck dumb and silent.

The meaning of these deaths, their significance, meant nothing to the rest. It meant everything to Safe, Zone, Winse, and Lymph. Such an event had occurred on their clan’s thirteenth day of existence.

When Pizzicato, Malihini, and Bola had all perished in Woodland Path…

This time, the fallen were two treasured children and one orphan–Losis, Betes, and Kemia.

Safe bawled, weeping over the corpses of her first surviving children. Geri screamed, draped over the still form of his Spiral mate while his two sons, Lio and Toma, stood back in mute shock. Malar and Rosi stared stupidly at the body of their mother, who had gone through so much in her life, only to die. Winse couldn’t speak.

Zone, heart heavy and numb from their losses, carefully peeled Safe and Geri from the bodies of their loved ones. Winse moved, lifting his cold mate atop his back. Thrax carried Losis, Zone’s largest child and among the largest dragons in the entire clan. Lymph carried Kemia, guiding his son and grandsons behind him.

The procession to the graveyard was a slow and miserable one. In less than one week, nine lives were lost. Scorched Forest had claimed the majority, breaking the spirits and hearts of the rest of the clan.

Sadly, that number would climb to ten as evening crept in. Embo, one of Safe’s newborn children, would lose his fight with the plague. The tiny vermilion Mirror would die before midnight. He too be buried with the rest in the graveyard.

Hope was beginning to lessen…

To have a dream of life again

Dys, Melli, Scrapie, and Morquio watched from high above atop the lair as Thrax pawed at the ground in the graveyard below. Two tiny forms–Imperials, Dys guessed from the shape–lay curled up near him. Neither hatchling moved.

Crohn sighed, watching his fellow Fae hatchlings. The pearl-colored Fae knew what Thrax was doing. He understood what death was due to his adoptive mother, Betes. He knew what was wrong with the hatchlings, why they did not move or cry. He knew why Thrax was digging.

The mighty Imperial, the only one in the whole clan, was digging his sons’ graves. Riberi and Tulis, the limp hatchlings near him, were dead. They had been for several minutes now.

Nothing Ponti did could keep her rambunctious Fae children from sneaking out of the lair to witness the strange activity that Thrax was doing. At two days old, death meant little to them. They did not understand it. They wouldn’t for a few more days, if Ponti had her way.

“What is he doing to them?” Dys asked.

“Is that a new kind of game?” Scrapie questioned.

“It doesn’t look very fun, just lying there, all quiet and still,” Melli mumbled with a pout.

“Crohn? What is he doing to them?” Morquio asked, turning to look at the older hatchling.

Crohn had no right to explain it to them. But if he left it as a game, they might try to reenact it later. The last thing he wanted was for one of them to bury themselves alive.

“He’s burying them,” he finally said.

“Burying? Like what a mole does?” Scrapie asked.

“That’s burrowing, not burying!” Dys chirped, swatting his brother.

“What’s burying mean? Is that why he’s digging?” Melli asked, peering over the ledge to see Thrax cease digging. “Is he burying right now?”

“Burying is when you put something in the ground and cover it,” Crohn explained, looking away. “Like dead dragons.”

“Dead?” Melli repeated.

“Dead is when–“

“Dys! Melli! Scrapie! Morquio! Where are you?”

The hatchlings jumped at Pall’s voice. Before they could scramble away, the blue Fae zipped over the lair and jolted when he saw them. Spitting a curse, the adult zipped toward them. There was no time to scatter before the five were swiftly gathered up.

“What were you thinking? I told you to leave Thrax alone!” Pall scolded.

“I told them not to! They didn’t listen!” Crohn cried.

“Dad, what’s dead mean?” Melli asked.

Pall fixed Crohn with such a glare that the Fae wanted to fall through the stone and into the planet’s core.

“That is something to be explained later. Not now,” Pall said firmly. “Right now, you will all go back to the nest. You’re grounded.”

The trio of siblings, plus the adopted Morquio, made an instant ruckus. Pall herded them back down to the ground and toward the nest, where Ponti was waiting worriedly. Pall gave Crohn a swat and ordered him home before guiding his children to his mate.

Crohn didn’t dare tempt fate any further. He went home to huddle by his mother, who nuzzled him before gazing sadly at Remia across the lair. The Wildclaw was surrounded by her immediate family–her daughter Laria, son-in-law Malar, and her granddaughters Shior and Psitta. Once Thrax was through with his sons, he’d join them in comforting his heartbroken mate.

Crohn buried his face in his mother’s flank, guilt hitting him. He wished he was as innocent as Dys, Melli, Scrapie, and Morquio were. He wished he didn’t know what death and burial and such were.

The little Fae siblings likely wouldn’t be that innocent by nightfall. He’d destroyed that.

The future seems so bright

All three nests were taken as of today. Each bore three gooey green eggs, tiny hatchlings growing inside of them. Each nest was at varying stages of growth.

Winse and Betes had been on their nest for three days and had two days left until their little ones hatched. Betes was ready and eager for the hatchlings to emerge, to be a truly loving mother. Winse, proud as ever, was frequently found curled around the nest, impatiently waiting for the day of hatching to come. Their older children echoed their eagerness.

Pall and Ponti had taken the second nest only a day ago. Their coupling was a rather odd one, considering how wishy-washy Pall had been in his choice of mate. Eventually, the blue Fae settled on Ponti, much to the raspberry Guardian’s pleasure. Tryp’s daughter impatiently waited to meet her children. Pall zipped between her and the nest in equal eagerness, unable to stay still for long.

Safe and Zone, ready for their tenth clutch, had taken the final nest as their own. Having perfecting the art of patience, the two progenitors of the clan had only just begun their five-day wait for their eggs to hatch. They watched their fellow nesters with amusement.

Safe smiled proudly. Among the nesters was her first surviving daughter, a granddaughter, and two adopted children. The eggs would contain her next batch of grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Slowly, hatchling by hatchling, her family grew.

But so did her losses. She mourned her great-great-great grandson Tero, slain just yesterday in Woodland Path. The image of the wood brought up too many deaths for her.

Lizotte had been heartbroken but already, she had suitors. Geri and Kemia’s sons had been squabbling over her attention, performing great feats in the air with their long Spiral bodies and short wings. They had yet to catch her eye but they were persistent.

Safe saw love all around her. She had witnessed Flin curling up with Histo, a sparkling blue Wildclaw orphan found in the Abiding Boneyard many weeks ago, multiple times as of late. She knew that once they were ready, a nest would likely come from them. Just as long as they both survived through the next ten days.

Zone’s nuzzle brought the blood-red Mirror back to the present. One of the eggs bobbed in the sea of goo that filled the rotted stump nest. She could almost see a faint shadow twitching inside.

Safe smiled.