Snowsquall tundra was known for being probably the 'friendliest' part of the southern isles. The harsh, resilient vegetation provided for some kind of shelter and source of food, which is why two particular dragons were not surprisingly still alive. Though, who could tell for how long?
They were both hatchlings, hardly more than a few months old. Both spiral dragons, one bearing the bright pink on his scales, lively and trotting proudly through the cold, patched up ground, while the other was as white as the first winter snowfall, and just as delicate-looking. Both nameless, homeless, and all they have known of the world was a small portion of the tundra and each other's company. The cold did not seem to bother them much as they strolled beneath the treetops, communicating in clicks, growls and melodic murrs - over the course of their short life, the two seemed to develop a language of their own, unknown to other dragons. But whether they were of the same lair or just two stray eggs the strange duck found and brought home, it will probably never be known. And yet, the two clicked as if they were of the same mother.
The pink dragon paused just a few feet shy away from a tree, where he spotted a large moth on a branch. It was almost perfectly camouflaged, but nothing escaped this little fella's sharp sight. In a second, he lowered himself, prowling along until he reached the base of the tree and began to claw up. Tiny needles that were still forming on his toes barely held his weight on the tree, but one step at a time, and he was able to conquer it, twisting his body around the thin tree like a miniature snake.
Snowsquall tundra was known for being probably the 'friendliest' part of the southern isles. The harsh, resilient vegetation provided for some kind of shelter and source of food, which is why two particular dragons were not surprisingly still alive. Though, who could tell for how long?
They were both hatchlings, hardly more than a few months old. Both spiral dragons, one bearing the bright pink on his scales, lively and trotting proudly through the cold, patched up ground, while the other was as white as the first winter snowfall, and just as delicate-looking. Both nameless, homeless, and all they have known of the world was a small portion of the tundra and each other's company. The cold did not seem to bother them much as they strolled beneath the treetops, communicating in clicks, growls and melodic murrs - over the course of their short life, the two seemed to develop a language of their own, unknown to other dragons. But whether they were of the same lair or just two stray eggs the strange duck found and brought home, it will probably never be known. And yet, the two clicked as if they were of the same mother.
The pink dragon paused just a few feet shy away from a tree, where he spotted a large moth on a branch. It was almost perfectly camouflaged, but nothing escaped this little fella's sharp sight. In a second, he lowered himself, prowling along until he reached the base of the tree and began to claw up. Tiny needles that were still forming on his toes barely held his weight on the tree, but one step at a time, and he was able to conquer it, twisting his body around the thin tree like a miniature snake.
Much more cautious than her excitable companion, the white dragon stopped just shy of the tree's base. The moth, startled only slightly by the creature's nails splintering in the wood, quivered and hopped about on it's branch. It's antennae twitched and spun in an attempt to assess the situation, only pausing when it finally zeroed in on the source of all that pesky noise. Fluttering it's wings, the moth hopped away as the pink dragon grew closer. Though not entirely threatened, it certainly didn't have any interest in becoming the youngling's play-thing. Each inch the tiny dragon progressed, the moth hopped one more away...up, down, all over the branches, as if it were playing with him (though in reality it was just mindlessly avoiding becoming a curious hatchling's lunch).
With slow, careful steps the white dragon padded through the half-melted snow, her tail (budding no more than a few inches off of her behind) swaying haphazardly behind her. Though calmer (and perhaps a tad shier) than her pink counterpart, each step she made bounced a little more with the same intrigued excitement that he exuded. Whether or not they were related, their behaviors seemed to echo one another flawlessly.
Occasionally, the more reserved of the two hatchlings would release short, sharp chirps and clicks in her friend's direction. To outsiders it would be nothing short of gibberish, but to them, it was indeed a language all their own. 'Left! Right! Up - no, down!' As if he count understand them, she barked directions up the base of the tree at him, eyes firmly locked on that moth. Her swaying tail betrayed all attempts at hiding her mischievousness, increasing in speed the closer the pink dragon got to their prey.
Much more cautious than her excitable companion, the white dragon stopped just shy of the tree's base. The moth, startled only slightly by the creature's nails splintering in the wood, quivered and hopped about on it's branch. It's antennae twitched and spun in an attempt to assess the situation, only pausing when it finally zeroed in on the source of all that pesky noise. Fluttering it's wings, the moth hopped away as the pink dragon grew closer. Though not entirely threatened, it certainly didn't have any interest in becoming the youngling's play-thing. Each inch the tiny dragon progressed, the moth hopped one more away...up, down, all over the branches, as if it were playing with him (though in reality it was just mindlessly avoiding becoming a curious hatchling's lunch).
With slow, careful steps the white dragon padded through the half-melted snow, her tail (budding no more than a few inches off of her behind) swaying haphazardly behind her. Though calmer (and perhaps a tad shier) than her pink counterpart, each step she made bounced a little more with the same intrigued excitement that he exuded. Whether or not they were related, their behaviors seemed to echo one another flawlessly.
Occasionally, the more reserved of the two hatchlings would release short, sharp chirps and clicks in her friend's direction. To outsiders it would be nothing short of gibberish, but to them, it was indeed a language all their own. 'Left! Right! Up - no, down!' As if he count understand them, she barked directions up the base of the tree at him, eyes firmly locked on that moth. Her swaying tail betrayed all attempts at hiding her mischievousness, increasing in speed the closer the pink dragon got to their prey.
The small Spiral curled around the branches like a little serpent in a hot pursuit. He registered his companion's signals and followed them when he felt like he lost the insect. However, he began closing in on it the closer they were to the top of the tree. One branch after another he climbed, and after an upwards dive into a thicker part of the treetop, he disappeared out of sight.
There were rustles, branches shaking in juts of movement with pine needles flaking down onto the ground. The Spiral submerged to the branches again, hopping down with the greatest of ease. In his mouth was the pursued moth, its lifeless body occupying almost the entire bite. It was the size of the youngling's head, enough for a midday snack for him and his partner.
When he finally touched the ground once again, the pink dragon strutted over to the other. He plopped down on his behind, and with the aid of his tiny palms bit the insect's head clean off, taking some of the torso as well. He may have stolen a wing as well. The rest was offered to the female as he chewed with his mouth open.
The small Spiral curled around the branches like a little serpent in a hot pursuit. He registered his companion's signals and followed them when he felt like he lost the insect. However, he began closing in on it the closer they were to the top of the tree. One branch after another he climbed, and after an upwards dive into a thicker part of the treetop, he disappeared out of sight.
There were rustles, branches shaking in juts of movement with pine needles flaking down onto the ground. The Spiral submerged to the branches again, hopping down with the greatest of ease. In his mouth was the pursued moth, its lifeless body occupying almost the entire bite. It was the size of the youngling's head, enough for a midday snack for him and his partner.
When he finally touched the ground once again, the pink dragon strutted over to the other. He plopped down on his behind, and with the aid of his tiny palms bit the insect's head clean off, taking some of the torso as well. He may have stolen a wing as well. The rest was offered to the female as he chewed with his mouth open.
The pink Spiral dragon was clearly in an element of his own when he hunted, but nonetheless the slightly smaller hatchling barked up at him relentlessly as if she could control him from afar. It was only when he descended to the semi-frozen ground again that she gave pause, watching in a rather annoyed manner as her white counterpart bit off more than what she deemed was his 'fair share' of a tasty snack.
Flustered, the white Spiral growled and clicked incessantly at her counterpart while chomping down on the remaining wing of that poor, mangled moth. The wing in her mouth was almost too large, and not nearly tasty enough. Her mouth opened and shut awkwardly, almost as if she were attempting to crumple a piece of paper larger than her body between her barely-budding teeth.
They were quite the funny sight really, almost like two bickering children. The female clicked and growled between clumsy, sloppy bites while the male simply enjoyed his well-earned meal. It wasn't long before she finished however, and once more she found herself hungry and restless (who knew exactly how long these two had been wandering without a proper meal). Her ears flared as she watched the pink Spiral curiously - and not a moment later, she lunged herself into her still-snacking companion's side, greedy little jaws attempting to snag another bite as well as wrestle a bit of fun out of him.
The pink Spiral dragon was clearly in an element of his own when he hunted, but nonetheless the slightly smaller hatchling barked up at him relentlessly as if she could control him from afar. It was only when he descended to the semi-frozen ground again that she gave pause, watching in a rather annoyed manner as her white counterpart bit off more than what she deemed was his 'fair share' of a tasty snack.
Flustered, the white Spiral growled and clicked incessantly at her counterpart while chomping down on the remaining wing of that poor, mangled moth. The wing in her mouth was almost too large, and not nearly tasty enough. Her mouth opened and shut awkwardly, almost as if she were attempting to crumple a piece of paper larger than her body between her barely-budding teeth.
They were quite the funny sight really, almost like two bickering children. The female clicked and growled between clumsy, sloppy bites while the male simply enjoyed his well-earned meal. It wasn't long before she finished however, and once more she found herself hungry and restless (who knew exactly how long these two had been wandering without a proper meal). Her ears flared as she watched the pink Spiral curiously - and not a moment later, she lunged herself into her still-snacking companion's side, greedy little jaws attempting to snag another bite as well as wrestle a bit of fun out of him.
The pink spiral reacted immediately, clawing back at his invasive white counterpart. Full of snarling threats and full-mouthed gargles and groans, he tried to wrestle the female off - how dare she interrupt his meal! And this wasn't even the first time she had done that to him. The nerve.
What the two were oblivious of were that in the distance, a small stampede of wild boars was approaching, the earth beneath their stubby legs in tremors. They ran, squealing, too afraid to scatter and find shelter from their pursuers: two dragons on the hunt.
"This was a BAD idea, Drifter, I see no possible chance of us catching them! This terrain is horrible!" the first one named Xin yelled at his partner, Drifter, winded. A fae dragon, smaller than the female by a great deal and barely able to keep up with her gallop, even though he had the advantage of flying.
"I see no reason why not!" she called back with her low, gruff voice, puffs of warm air dissolving in the cold from her gaping jaws as she ran. Drifter seemed delighted by this pursuit. "Claws out, Xin, be ready to strike--- I see a clearing!"
The pink spiral reacted immediately, clawing back at his invasive white counterpart. Full of snarling threats and full-mouthed gargles and groans, he tried to wrestle the female off - how dare she interrupt his meal! And this wasn't even the first time she had done that to him. The nerve.
What the two were oblivious of were that in the distance, a small stampede of wild boars was approaching, the earth beneath their stubby legs in tremors. They ran, squealing, too afraid to scatter and find shelter from their pursuers: two dragons on the hunt.
"This was a BAD idea, Drifter, I see no possible chance of us catching them! This terrain is horrible!" the first one named Xin yelled at his partner, Drifter, winded. A fae dragon, smaller than the female by a great deal and barely able to keep up with her gallop, even though he had the advantage of flying.
"I see no reason why not!" she called back with her low, gruff voice, puffs of warm air dissolving in the cold from her gaping jaws as she ran. Drifter seemed delighted by this pursuit. "Claws out, Xin, be ready to strike--- I see a clearing!"
How easy it was to be so oblivious at such a young age. The white Spiral took her friend's challenge in stride, growling and chirping back all the same as they fought for dominance (as well as for whatever remained of their strange snack). Though in honesty, after a few minutes had passed, the tiny female had long forgotten the silly insect and had begun to enjoy the little wrestling match they'd partaken in. Even though he never tried to do so intentionally in their short time alive, the pink hatchling had always been able to coax out his friend's more playful side.
As the two wrestled and bickered', they were unaware of the impending threat that was soon to descend upon them just over the nearby hills. A not-so-oblivious Guardian, grey and haggard in appearance, had been nosing around in a rocky patch of earth that opened up into a hole in the ground. Not much by the looks of it, but it had once upon a time been a cave for a clan long-since abandoned it's home.
Though small, the herd's thundering steps were enough to attract his attention. A rock flopped uselessly down into the cave's hole after being overturned by his head. A large bone was clamped firmly between his jagged, misshapen jaws - but upon smelling the pack of wild, distressed pigs, he snapped it in twain in his excitement. If not for his grumbling stomach, he might have missed the faint rumbling beneath his claws.
Sssssssssounds like trouble~
How easy it was to be so oblivious at such a young age. The white Spiral took her friend's challenge in stride, growling and chirping back all the same as they fought for dominance (as well as for whatever remained of their strange snack). Though in honesty, after a few minutes had passed, the tiny female had long forgotten the silly insect and had begun to enjoy the little wrestling match they'd partaken in. Even though he never tried to do so intentionally in their short time alive, the pink hatchling had always been able to coax out his friend's more playful side.
As the two wrestled and bickered', they were unaware of the impending threat that was soon to descend upon them just over the nearby hills. A not-so-oblivious Guardian, grey and haggard in appearance, had been nosing around in a rocky patch of earth that opened up into a hole in the ground. Not much by the looks of it, but it had once upon a time been a cave for a clan long-since abandoned it's home.
Though small, the herd's thundering steps were enough to attract his attention. A rock flopped uselessly down into the cave's hole after being overturned by his head. A large bone was clamped firmly between his jagged, misshapen jaws - but upon smelling the pack of wild, distressed pigs, he snapped it in twain in his excitement. If not for his grumbling stomach, he might have missed the faint rumbling beneath his claws.
Sssssssssounds like trouble~
