Andromeda

Andromeda, born under an auspicious star, they all said. Dappled with the night sky over his skin, the rich purple of just-before-midnight with flashes of light caught in his scales. He was lovely. He knew that he was lovely. The elegant filigree etched on his sides, his wings, the simple but perfect shimmer of sunlight on his wings...he could not have asked for more. True, this was not the Viridian Labyrinth from which he'd begun, but somehow the Tangled Wood spoke more to his soul. Perhaps it was the way the shadows danced with the stars on his hide, and perhaps it was how the quiet of the trees soothed him, but he was content where he was. He had no reason to want. Nothing to want.

And yet, something was missing.

He had not known his sire well--not even a name, if the dragon had borne one. It was the father's home, the Labyrinth. His mother had been a child of the Shadowbinder before she came to the glades, and again he wondered if that was how he had found himself here. She had encouraged him to travel, to find himself. And so he had, and so he would, if he was not called here any further. But no...something in him kept him here. Now it was merely finding the reason why.

It was abnormally quiet in the Wispwillow Grove. It did not bother him, the silence, but it stood out to him. Something in the darkness called to him, soothed him, and kept him in the silence, though questions bubbled up his throat. The others warned him. The woods were dark and deep, and this late in the evening there was no telling what you might find out there; he couldn't possibly be thinking of going out and walking around in those trees, could he? But of course, he could. He needed to. Andromeda could not articulate why, but there was somewhere he needed to be, and someone he needed to be with. He was certain of it. And so he walked in.

The concept that there was someone he needed to be with was just short of laughable. Andromeda had never relied on anyone, not since he'd left his shell. No dragon needed him, and he needed no one. It was the way he'd lived his life; he never wanted to be reliant on anyone, preferring to be sole dictator of his destiny. But for the first time, be it Shadowbinder or Gladekeeper, the deities were leading him into the Wood and something told him that he would not be allowed back out again until he figured out why he had been brought there.

No matter. His beauty did not preclude his brains. He would not be baffled by some force he could not see.

Perhaps...he had spoken too quickly.

It felt like he'd been wandering for a lifetime, but in truth, it couldn't have been more than half a moon-round. But he had wandered, and he had stumbled, and fallen and twisted and turned and gotten lost more times than he cared to admit, and was no longer certain which way was the path back to the clan. Well, the gods had brought him here; they could very well clean up their own mess and get him out. ...He hoped, at least. It had been quite the challenge, if that was in fact what he had been put through--and it had been a challenge, a trial, an ordeal. Beauty could not sway the strongest tricksters, and even the smartest can be beaten out by a cheater.

This is not a place to be alone.

And through it all, no sign of another dragon. Where was the mystery dragon, who he had felt so keenly was waiting for him in these trees? Where was his long-lost and long thought unneeded companion? Nowhere. There was no evidence of life in this woods; at least, there was no sign of anything he'd want to keep company with. There was no sense in these creatures, and certainly, nothing approaching compassion or courtesy. But this seemed to be where...he was.

It had taken some time to get used to the idea. But he had resigned himself to the fact that at least for the time being, he was trapped...

...when he turned and saw her.

A slight ghost of a shadow against the grassy ground, shining with just the same specks of light he knew so well from his own reflection. She did not move as he approached, but he could see that she still lived. Though so much smaller than him, she couldn't have been much older than himself. But something about her...her wings nearly vanished in the bracken, shadows of the night sky trapped in their emerald sheen as well. And if he looked closely...it almost seemed like the tiny light-bugs of the forest seemed to follow her, trapped in her aura.

She was beautiful.

Slowly, large brown eyes opened, and she pushed herself away, squeaking in pain even as she did. Hoping to calm her, he paced a few steps back, giving her room.

She was hurt. He needed to do something.

When she seemed to calm, he slowly crept forward again, keeping himself low to the ground, watching her eyes. He finally rested next to her, gesturing that she should climb onto his back if she could. That would be the easiest and safest way for him to get her back to his home.

And after a long moment, she inched herself over, and draped across his back, and fell asleep half of the way home.

Now he understood. He had not known the way home until he had needed to. And he had not left until it was time.

She did not remember the name she had first been given, and so the clan called her Nebula, and for as much as they were abashed at the relation of their names...they could not deny their connection.

And Andromeda did not ever want to deny her.

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