Skadi

It was known that not many hatchlings survived past their first winter in the Southern Icefields. Clans prepared as best as they could, but the cold was merciless. When winter was over, there were many pyres lit across the south, surrounded by toys and treats the hatchling may enjoy.

Of course, some hatchlings didn’t get to rest in the comfort of their clans, hatchlings that fell victim to the wind and snow far away from anything or anyone, whose body would never be found again.

Hatchlings like Skadi.

They were cold, so very cold, as they crawled through the snow. A snowstorm raged above them and they saw nothing ahead of them but white. They didn’t let themselves stop, however, they wanted to find their mother, she was supposed to come back to the cave they’d been hiding in long ago! What if she needed help?! They couldn’t give up now!

They struggled to keep going. The cold was slowly fading away as a strange sleepiness washed over them, and they closed their eyes.

When they awoke, the storm had calmed. The cold that had once rendered them unable to move was still there, and it felt like it got to the core of their very being. They didn’t feel weak, however, it was as if their strength had returned to them overnight.

They stood up and looked around, not knowing where to go. They saw a distant structure and set off towards it. While at first, the sky was clear, it got cloudier and cloudier the closer they got to the structure and soon enough it was snowing again. However, this time the snow and cold didn’t bother them it seemed to make them faster.

They stopped in their tracks as a hulking figure appeared of seemingly nowhere in front of them and looked down. The snow parted slightly and they were able to see a dragon’s face that reminded Skadi of their father, although wilder. They smiled up at it, as their mother had taught them, ready to chirp out a greeting.

“Follow me, young one” the older dragon spoke before them, quickly turning to walk away. Skadi stared for a moment before running behind him.

The dragon led him to the towering structure they had been walking towards. Up close, they noted it looked like a fortress, something about it seemed ancient like it had barely felt the passage of time. They cowered at its entrance, looking at the darkness before them with fear.

The dragon they had been following turned to look at them, a flash of sympathy passing through his eyes behind the mess of fur. He offered them a claw, seemingly not minding the frost that started creeping up his arm when they took it before guiding them inside.

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Bagid led the small spirit inside the fortress with a heavy heart. It was not that unusual that the gaolers who patrolled the Icefield found a hatchling that had perished under the snow only to awaken as a spirit of frost and cold.

It was always a sad sight. Sometimes, the child would call for their parents, only to have no one answer them; sometimes they would have run away from awful homes, and the happiness and hope they showed when offered the smallest of kindness broke his heart. Other times, like this one, they would move with purpose, only to look utterly lost when approached.

The pair approached the room they had adjusted for them. Wardens and judges as they were, children were innocent, so the gaolers did their best to keep them entertained and happy. The room was full of toys made of scrap and blankets, spirits were playing around, a couple of them where even climbed on his brother, Avalanche.

The small hatching whose paw he was holding (They were a Nocturne, but there was too much fur on them, probably one of their parents was a Tundra), looked at the room full of children and then back at Bagid with hesitance before running to the nearest group of hatchlings. With a sigh, Bagid settled down to watch.

As sad as it was, there was some joy in guarding something so innocent, and it would be a lie to say none of the Icewarden’s first children were attached.