Snow

Home.

Snow shuffled into the cave. It was small and cramped, pressing down on her. There was no space to spread her wings. Caves were no places for dragons. She could see the one she was looking for, though, tucked away into the body of a hatchling.

She brushed past the charcoal statue that had once been the master of Outwatch. It fell and smashed on the flat stone floor.

I am chained, Beloved Memory of a Lover Distant and Lost.

I do not bear that name now. Snow squeezed further in. She stretched out her neck and peered at the little hatchling. Black. How dull.

The hatchling hissed at her. White. How gaudy.

Lazily, Snow took the chain around the hatchling’s neck and tore it from the cave wall. Then she nuzzled gently with her teeth at the links around the hatchling’s throat and bit the metal delicately in two. There. You are free. Outside, the air filled with the roars and shrieks of the other dragons. Her dragons, the others she had freed. They would not forget that. A debt was a debt.

The stone of the cave trembled and shook, distant impacts striking the ground above. Snow felt them tug at her, pulling her away to join in the destruction. There was the tower to be toppled. Farms filled with little ones to be burned. Food, lots and lots of joyous food, roaming in the fields. They would gorge themselves when they were done here. As long as they didn’t touch the little ones. The Embers at the alchemist caves with their poisoned blood had taught her that lesson.

You called. We came. Another tremor shook the cave, louder and closer this time. On the top of the cliff they were bringing down the tower. Snow backed away towards the entrance, eager to be gone. Are your wings strong? Will you fly with us?

The hatchling called Silence darted to the heavy door that led into the warren of tunnels, all much too small for a dragon to cleanse, but not for a newborn so fresh from the egg. Snow bared her teeth in approval. Burn them then, but do not eat them. Slowly and carefully she turned around and readied herself to launch into the air. The silver ones have returned. I have felt them.

Then when we are done with the little ones, let us find them.

And then?

They were our kindred. They abandoned us. They are no longer welcome in this world.

They made us. We served them. Snow felt strangely uncertain when it came to the silver ones. I remember them fondly.

I do not.

Abruptly, Silence smashed down the little door and snaked away through it, clutching in his fore-claws the length of chain that had once been fastened around his neck. Snow paused for a moment to savour the thought of him, little black hatchling that he was, black shadow of death that he had been and would be again, scuttling like silent lightning through the little ones’ tunnels, ripping them apart in the dark.

She pushed herself out into the air and spread her wings. Above her, at the top of the slope, the great tower of Outwatch had been decapitated, its top smashed to the ground. Several dragons were still there, circling around it, tearing at it, lashing it with their tails or simply flying into it. As she watched, another great slab of stone-work cracked and sloughed away, ripping open the middle third of the tower. Three dragons immediately poured fire into the breach, even though any little ones were surely long gone by now.

She went eagerly to join them. Yes, it felt so very good to be home.