Lunar

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The other hatchlings used to run around in his den. He'd get irritated, but never enough to snap at them. They knew not to touch his herbs and potions. He'd told them not to. Their parents had, too. But one hatchling always managed to get on his nerves in a special way.

Needle. He wasn't exactly cute, but that's what you get for being born in the Scarred Wasteland. Needle was a special kind of annoying, if Lunar had to be honest. He would knock herbs down and purposely step on them. He would hide between boulders with just his side showing and freak Lunar out with all his eyes. But... he never wished the hatchling dead.

Needle was the first to get stricken with the awful disease that claimed the clan.

He should have been immune to the sicknesses of the Scarred Wasteland, but somehow they still entered the young one's body. His parents constantly begged Lunar to save him, to do something, but Lunar couldn't do anything. All he could do was watch the hatchling rot... and scream... and cry... and, finally...

...die.

Lunar shook the feeling away. He hated it, he hated all of it. Every single memory of the plague that sturck the clan haunted him and still he tried to push them away. He'd never get rid of them, but he would try. For Salmon. Salmon needed him.