Avilareth

Having come to clan Cairne in his hour of need, he found himself welcomed by his son, Alnilam and his former mate Orion. Avilareth wasn't talkative on a good day, but he'd grown quieter after his experiences, and he was covered in injuries that seemed slow to heal even with the attention of the Nightguard's best healer. He has a story to tell, but so far, he's not talking.


He had been worried sick when his son hadn't returned. Days had gone by. Weeks. Yet there was still no word. He had been devastated when Mouri hadn't made it home safely from his travels. Work and socializing ground to a halt, the grief and quiet mourning for his old friend settling over the home he loved so. At least Mintaka had come home safe, at least his daughter.

But neither of those feelings, not the worry nor despair, could quite match the weightlessness of his stomach that he felt now at the sight laid bare before him, churned free from the half dug grave in the shadows of the canyon. Scavenging in the Shifting Expanse had prepared him for all sorts of sights; there was no telling whose old meal you would be digging up among the copper wires. And yet for all his lifelong preparation...

He brushed one hand over the sticky leathery scales of a prone Nocturne, cleaning the dirt and sand from the face to take a closer look. His eyes did not deceive him. Bile rose up his throat as he gagged, twisting his head fiercely away.

The imperial took a great heaving lungful of the ozone and copper tainted air, a half-baked attempt to center himself. The clan needed to be notified of the threat. It could be wild animals. Beast Clan. Enemies.

Avilareth rested his gaze as gently as he could back upon the dragon at his feet. What was he supposed to tell Vyrr. What could he tell the other Nocturne that would make it all okay? The poor girl... She had been about Mintaka's age.

"Avilareth!" He nearly leapt out of his own scales at the sound of the tundra's voice "Sir, what are you doing out here?"

"Turn away, quickly." The imperial shielded the site of the mangled body from the merchant, his voice as grim and commanding as he could muster... His mate had always been better at such things. "Someone from the clan has been killed."

Alice blinked her bright light colored eyes up at him, owlish and surprised. He waited patiently for the tundra to process the words, steeling himself for the inevitable shrieks of horror. But they never came.

All he received was an "oh"

He watched, confusion bubbling under his skin, as her head tilted at an odd contemplating angle before straightening with a shrug of shaggy tundra shoulders "I guess I'll have to apologize to Min later. She really wanted to tell you about it herself."

Sure Tundras were not the most intelligent of dragonkind but surely... "Alice. Our clanmate is dead."

"Well, I know that, Sir." She shook her brown shaggy mane, fixing a grin on her face "Don't worry. Since you're Min's Sire, I'll make it quick"

His body contorted of its own will, heart pounding in his throat as he threw himself back. The claws of the Tundra sliced through where he had been standing, gliding across the rotting meat. He only thought to scrabble back and run but Lightweaver had not built his kind for speed, and he was not built for battle.

Desperation held him in its grip, his snaking body thrashing to crush or dissuade the attacker. It was seconds. or minutes. or hours. The tear of the tundra's canines through his shoulder, claws clipping through his scales like oil. Most of it passed in a whirl of pain and horror and rage. But, in that next memorable blessed moment, he was free and running.

The sweltering static heat of the Carrion Canyon did nothing for the sluggish chill creeping up his toes and tail. He needed to warn the clan. warn Saraneth or Belgaer or Haren. It pushed him forward until all he could do was keep running. running. run.

Run smack into another dragon, bright red wings protesting in mechanical crunching.

"Whoa, Avi."

He knew that voice. The matriarch in-training. The icy ridgeback on patrol. Avilareth choked back on his relief. Of course it would be her to save him yet again. "Ther- Terrible. Dead. Alice. Bad. And Cidi. And my daughter" At any other moment in time he would have been embarrassed with his lack of composure. The ridgeback would have to feel embarrassed enough for the both of them.

"You're covered in injuries..." Amaraths maw curled into a menacing snarl, white eyes darting across the desert, but he felt only comfort. Which was strange, right? "What happened. Where's the threat."

"Amarath. You need to warn Saraneth and the entire clan. They're not safe! Alice killed someone. She was talking about Mintaka and I know how it sounds but you have to believe me, promi-"

The black dragon flexed her wings, gears grinding under the ebony armor, as she stared into the canyon "I believe you. I'll let Saraneth and the others know."

The burden that had carried him here lifted, he faltered. Spike and scales leaned against him to stop his jelly legs from failing completely. Her voice rumbled through him like gravel. "But you need to leave. It's not safe here. If the tundra or your daughter find you..."

"Of course. I can-"

A shape of brown and blue rounded one of the cliff-face corners. He could feel the ridgebacks muscles tense beneath him, a coil of iron and steel, they banished the doubt from his mind. That maybe Amarath would fail.

"Go"

And so he went, not looking back when he heard the Ice dragon roar.


"Ah... I find that some dragons can do without all the confusion"