Damp talons trod silently across a ground bare of snow, montarily disrupting golden shafts of radiant light. The snowdrifts that once buried the Grandfather Tree have dissolved, heralding a change of seasons in the Snowfell Flock. Prey-birds dance among the branches, trilling birdsong as they sun their wings in the mottled patches of light. The air is tense with anticipation— they, like the rest of us, have eagerly awaited the warmth of greenwing and the earthen scents redolent of new life.
Kuro bisects the clearing under the ancient tree, leading toward a particular den I have yet to visit. Her talons click eagerly against the bark as we scale the roots with harried steps. When Tomcat told us the snow had lted, Kuro insisted we visit the Grandfather Tree as soon as possible. As the newest mber of the Snowfell Flock, it was finally my turn to participate in the flock’s oldest tradition. We left this morning as soon as the sun rose over the peaks of the Great Valley.
We scale the roots until we arrive at a den I’ve never visited before. The entrance is recessed against the tree’s trunk, surrounded on both sides by gnarled roots and an impressive showing of virescent carpet moss. A drakon, advanced in age but not yet an elder, is resting on his haunches with his wings perked in attention. Has he been expecting us? I suppose he expects everyone when the seasons change. As we approach him, the drakon’s eyes slide past Kuro and focus on . He remains motionless.
Kuro stands before the drakon and mantles her wings. “Blue skies, Son-Of-Frito”
With a certain grace, the drakon dips his mottled green head. “Warm currents, Daughter-Of-cali. You have co to inscribe your age.”
“That’s right,” Kuro says. “And for this season, I brought my mate. Her na is Asha, Daughter-Of-Kelani, and she is new to the flock.”
Slowly, I step forward and join Kuro at her side. The drakon studies for a mont, then tilts his head. I can see knowledge absent in his eyes. For so reason, this strikes as odd.
“A new adult,” he rasps. “How peculiar. Adults are added to this tree only when a Loner joins the flock. But you…” he trails off as his gaze draws across my body. “I sense you are no Loner. You are sothing else entirely.”
I give Kuro a sidelong glance; I wasn’t expecting this response. He won’t be upset, will he? “I am the Farlander,” I answer before quickly correcting myself, “…was the Farlander.”
The drakon’s head elevates in brief surprise. I’ve never seen this Kin around the Grandfather Tree, much less at the gatherings in White Mountain. Surely, he’s heard about on the fangs of other Dragons. “So you were. Of the Kin recorded on this tree, all were Kin-of-Keuvra. It is a profound occasion to welco a child of the Goddess.”
I relax against my talons — he’s not upset.
Despite everything I’ve done for the flock, so of the older Kin are still reluctant to accept as one of them. They see Nakino as the Dragon who treated the illness and my encounter with the Beatrix a fluke. Perhaps they would be more willing to accept if Keuvra reappeared at the gatherings, but that has yet to happen. It’s the one nagging thought that has kept anxious this past season. I should be a child of Keuvra, not the Goddess. What’s taking him so long, anyway?
A certain part of yearns to march into Keuvra’s den and ask him directly despite the strict rules against it. But as frustrating as it is, I know I have to be patient with the deities. After all, they were the ones who led to the flock and guided to help it. Without them, I would have died ten tis over in Felra. I have to believe they have my best interests in mind, and everything will soon be revealed to .
According to Kuro, his na is Kish, and his sole responsibility is to guide Kin through this ceremony. Like a sepal drawing open flower petals, Kish unfurls his wings and warms them in a sunbeam. “Very well, then. Join on the wing.”
We take off after him, departing the aerie through one of the openings in the lower branches. Warm sunlight greets our feathers under a brilliant blue sky, and the wind brings the intoxicating scents of prey and new growth. As we rise in altitude, Kish studies the branches closely, his eyes darting about like fish in a river. Eventually, after one full trip around the tree, he finds what he’s looking for.
“There,” he announces, flicking his ears towards one of the larger branches. “Please follow .”
We follow, taking turns landing on one of the branches big enough to carry the weight of three Kin. Kish grooms the path as he leads us deeper into the canopy, using his jaws to nip at the greenwing growth that would soon grow to prevent our passage. As we walk along the maze of twisting branches, Kuro cos to a halt seemingly at random. Kish follows a mont later, then reaches to rest his talon on one of the branches growing parallel to ours. He tests his weight, and with a flick of his ears, beckons us to follow. As I’d expect, they both know precisely where we’re headed.
Just as the scent of moss and sap becos overwhelming, the ancient trunk becos visible through the tangle of branches. Imdiately, I spot sothing peculiar: Innurable vertical claw marks adorn the bark in massive sections, stretching out across the visible length of the trunk. As we pass a low-hanging branch, the scope of the scene becos more clear. The entire circumference of the trunk has been marked by Kin! Incredible!
Kish settles before the trunk and wraps his tail around his foretalons. “Daughter-Of-Kelani, these symbols tell the story of your mate’s ti in the Snowfell Flock. As soon as she could fly, young Kuro ca to this tree and left a clawmark to herald the passage of each season. In our flock, we commorate the passage of seasons and the persistence of life.”
He pauses and draws his left wing over a broad section of claw marks — Kuro’s record. Her marks started out small and jagged, but grew to beco longer and more straight as the seasons progressed. It makes smile, imagining an innocent young Kuro on this very branch long before I was even born.
Kish angles his head towards the trunk and studies Kuro’s section carefully. “Daughter-Of-cali… with the passage of frostwing, you are 172 seasons old.”
Wait, what!? Did he seriously just count all her claw marks? But that was so fast!! I was taught a math curriculum in the Farlands, and I can’t even do ntal math that quickly!
“Thank you,” Kuro says, ruffling a little in satisfaction. She gazes at and smiles.
Kish inclines his head. “Now, then. Demonstrate the proper technique to your mate.”
Kuro nods and approaches the trunk. She rests on her haunches and draws her talon past the mark she inscribed in frostwing. She pushes against the trunk, then drags vertically across the bark. When she reaches the length of her previous mark, she pulls her talon away. As she does, a wisp of pale blue light emanates from the mark and quickly fades.
“Whoa!” I chirp in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting it to react.”
Kish flashes a smile and growls in satisfaction. “Long before the ti of Dragons, Azurrel crafted The Grandfather Tree — the very first, and that from which all others sprouted. The legacy of his creation persists to this day.”
I feel my eyes go wide. I knew the Grandfather Tree was ancient, but the very first tree? And if that wasn’t enough, it still emanates the power of Azurrel all these years! Ard with this stunning revelation, I can’t help but gaze anew across the tree in wonder.
Kish shakes his wings and rises to his talons. “Daughter-Of-Kelani. To record your first season in the flock, we must travel to another branch. If you would follow .”
The tawny old drakon leads us back into daylight and down to the lower branches of the tree. When we arrive back at the trunk, I notice a single, short set of inscriptions against the bark. The rest of the tree appears normal.
Kish approaches the trunk and stands before it, silent and unmoving. He draws a deep breath, exhales, then turns in a circle to settle on his haunches. “Asha, Daughter-Of-Kelani… child of the Goddess Etain.”
He flicks his ears, beckoning to step forward. I move across the branch and stand before him.
“Follow your mate’s lead and commit the record of your ti in the Snowfell Flock.”
I nod and move past Kish to confront the tree. Resting against my haunches, I place my right talon against the trunk — the sa trunk that every Kin who ca before touched. I extend my index claw into the tree and slowly drag my talon across the texture of the bark, inscribing a clean, straight line. When it’s the sa length as Kuro’s marks, I pull away. The inscription glows in a pale blue light before slowly fading.
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I cast about to see Kish tipping his wings in approval. I got it right on my first try! Beside him is Kuro, smiling like the happiest Dragon in the world. It’s easy to understand why — this is a small but hugely symbolic step in my new life as a mber of the Snowfell Flock. The record of my ti in Felra has only just begun.
Perhaps more than anything, I’ve co to appreciate warm skies.
I find myself at the top of Flat Rock, lazily passing the ti while Kuro speaks to Bonello in his den a level below . After an entire season of frozen prey and beds in the snow, I’m savoring the first warm day of greenwing. Curled into a neat little ball, my wings are splayed across the stone, and my head rests gently past the plumage of my tail. Sowhere far below , the muffled cries of playful hatchlings lap at my ears, providing a pleasing backdrop to contemplate everything that’s happened to since I last felt the world’s warmth.
It had to have been the day I left Varecia. I can still recall the sun against my fur as I pranced off the Blue Daemon and into the Eastern Weald, blissfully unaware of the dangers that awaited . But while the weather that day may be similar, the girl in my mory couldn’t be more different. Irritable and naive, she was burdened by the emotional baggage of being the Princess.
Oh, yes. I look back on my past self — my mories and my experiences — like they were transplanted from sobody else’s head; an old friend that flew away and promised never to return. That prey-animal, that privileged little girl, was a materialistic brat. Sheltered and insufferable, it’s no wonder those around her couldn’t stand her existence. These days, It’s difficult to imagine my life as a ‘Princess’ on the gilded lap of luxury. What was it like to wake up every morning with my breakfast already prepared for ? To go about my day completely safe and to always have a warm bed to fall into at night? Day after day, season after season, all of my whims and needs perfectly catered to.
What a miserable, joyless existence.
I’m alive now. Freed from the shackles of blood and inevitability, I’m flourishing! Every day is just as exhilarating as the last, full of purpose and wonder, joy and love. To this end, I have lived as everyone else in the Snowfell Flock — unprivileged, toiling about to earn my fair share. I accept this role willingly. I embrace it.
Mom always said I wasn’t cut out for the royal life, and she was right. Back then, everyone was always trying to box into a role that was never ant for . What was it that Commander Almandoz told on the day I left? That little parable about inevitability?
‘You must sacrifice these parts of yourself for the good of the Kingdom. Your futures will be dedicated to public service, and nothing can steer you off that path.’
Hah!
Poor Duncan. He never could have predicted any of this. But as it turns out, my path through life is not so rigid. What happened in the hollow was a tragedy, but it culminated in my rebirth as a huntress of the Snowfell Flock. It may not be the life destined for a Princess, but it’s the life ant for one. I wouldn’t change a thing.
…
ntal Note: Check the bulbs when we return to the den. It’s so warm today, I’d be shocked if they aren’t sprouting yet.
Enough idle rumination of the past. I’m yearning for the future! I’m going to fly to Flat Rock tomorrow and teach Frecci so of the skills I taught Nakino. Ever since we treated the illness, everyone’s been interested to learn about my knowledge of Farlands botany and herbalism. I’m all too happy to share, and I’m looking forward to eting the healers at Tall Spires and White Mountain.
And after that? Well, we’ll see! Kuro talked about visiting so of her favorite spots in Loner territory, and I think that’s a great idea. Supposedly, there’s a big lake over there, and Kuro likes to go swimming in it! To think, a lake big enough for a Lithan! The lakes in Ellyntide were so small, and—
…
I raise my head in alert. The winds carry muffled dragonsong; a cry unlike any I’ve heard before. It sounds anguished, almost like an alarm call. A heartbeat later, the aerie erupts in savage noise as seemingly every Dragon present adds to the call, wailing in the sa intonation.
RAA-RAAAAAAR!!
RO-RROOOARRR!!
RAGH-RRRRGHHH!!
Confused and a tiny bit scared, I leap to my talons and add to the chorus. `
SKA-REEEEEEEAK!!
As our collective wail subsides, I hear other Dragons echoing across the Great Valley. What’s going on?! Nobody told we had a cry like this before. What could cause fierce Kin to wail in such anguish? I peer over the cliff’s ledge to see Kin darting about the levels below. Mothers are screaming at their hatchlings to return to their den, while others are staring at the sky with worry in their eyes. From the lower levels, I see a mottled brown drakon rising on the currents, grave concern scrawled across his face.
“Asha?!” he calls, frantically scanning the sky. Eventually, his gaze locks on . “Oh! “There you are!”
“Parth!” I yell to Fra’s mate. “What’s going on?!”
“Asha!!”
Drawn away by a familiar voice, I gaze cliffside to see Kuro leaping from the ledge below , taking flight with a commanding flap of her wings. With a solemn glint in her eyes, she shouts, “Airship-prey!”
“What!?” I gasp.
“That call ans an airship-prey has been spotted!” Parth explains, catching up to Kuro. “Please, you must tell it to leave!”
I retreat a step, struggling for a response. Airship-prey have returned already?! But greenwing just began! It couldn’t be one of Mom’s ships, could it? W-what should I do?! As Kuro and Parth glide into view, they look at expectantly. Kuro knows the truth about airship-prey, but Parth still believes the lie I concocted about their sentience. Everyone in the flock does. No doubt, they’ll be counting on to scare away this ship, too.
I’ve dreaded the day the airship-prey return to Felra. There are so many ways it could end badly. What if they don’t take my threats seriously? What if there’s more than one ship? What’s if it’s one of Mom’s ships, and they’re determined to fight until the bloody end? I tried to prepare a litany of excuses in case I failed, but…
I square my wings and feign confidence. “Right. I’ll do my best!!”
No matter what, I have to try. My reputation precedes ; I can’t escape it. I have to reap what I’ve sown and scare away another airship-prey!
SKREEEAK!
With storm clouds gathering on the horizon, I fight the gales off Archer’s Landing to approach the hostile airship-prey. I’ve only just arrived at the scene after a harried flight from the Grandfather Tree, and things are looking in my favor.
The vessel is a Sarlanian rchant ship of the harrier class. We knew these ships well in Ellyntide — piloted by associates of the Knights Eternal, they were the only Sarlanian vessels allowed to conduct trade with Ellyntide. While docked in our ports, we had free reign to inspect them for contraband. And boy, did we ever! Our intelligence assets were so versed in their construction that they could tell if a screw was fastened in the wrong spot. Consequently, I know with complete certainty that this ship has no offensive capabilities. If they wanted to attack , they’d have to step onto a sky deck and fling rapiers overboard.
Still, I draw an unsteady breath. To once again see ascendant technology stirs powerful emotions inside my heart. For far too long, I yearned to return to the Farlands and revert to my previous form. The mory of Asha Lordanou has been buried, but I can never be completely free of her. She is an inseparable part of that I must learn to contend with.
…
I pound my wings and approach the vessel from the starboard side. Clearly, they’re waiting for the storm on the horizon to pass before flying to the island of Samsivik. If I appear aggressive, will they return to zonnia? When I feel I’m close enough, I pull my wings back and begin hovering in place. Scanning the vessel, I search for any signs of prey-animals on the sky decks. It only takes a mont to feel confident they’re inside.
Just like last ti, a crowd of Kin have gathered at Archer’s Landing. They expect to hear my diplomatic voice, the one with the power to command airship-prey. I breathe in, draw from sowhere deep inside , and release the voice of authority.
“Sarlanian vessel! You are trespassing in the sovereign territory of the Snowfell Flock! I order you, as an emissary to the elders of White Mountain and the forr Princess of— “
The air shakes with an incredible force, nearly causing my wings to flutter. A wrenching, tallic noise reverberates across the sky as the primary propellers are rotated 90 degrees into the aft position. Acrid smoke pours from the rear smokestacks, and the ship begins banking to the left. They’re getting the fwegh out of here!
I exhale, forcing slow breaths to calm my thundering heart. That was too easy! I could barely finish my threat before they got the ssage. Moreover, I’m surprised how easily I could slip into my authoritative voice, the one I used to command others with. They must have heard of what happened to the Beatrix and took the hint to leave!
…
So, it’s true. The news of and what I did spread to all corners of the moon. As well it should have — I’ve killed Princess Asha in more ways than one. Surely, I’ve beco the most reviled Dragon in the history of the Farlands.
…
Boiler smoke drifts into my nostrils, causing to scowl its the noxious stench. I twist my tail and bank left to return to Archer’s Landing.
As I lower from the sky, the cries of Kin reach on the wind.
“Asha!!”
“You did it!! It listened to you!!”
“Good Kevura, you’re alright!!”
I can’t help but smile. A crowd of twenty or so brave Kin flew beside from the Grandfather Tree, fully expecting a repeat of my legendary feat. I’m glad I didn’t disappoint them! I glide past the ledge and co about to land next to a copse of wind-twisted rosewoods. A great cheer rises from the crowd, and I tip my wings to acknowledge them. Finally, I settle down for a graceful landing.
The crowd leaps forward and swarms around , nuzzling their heads and singing praise. Sowhere among the feathers and fluff, I sense Kuro draw near. I turn my head to see her standing there, a proud smile across her muzzle. I smile back, and our heads are drawn together.
I’m pleased I could make everyone happy. How could I not? I’m a hero! But as Kuro and I embrace, sothing doesn’t sit well with : A nagging thought that bothers the Princess just as much as the creature I’ve beco.
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