Chapter Text
Smoke, that was what Dream saw as he neared his home. Surely it was just an incident with a fledgling who was only beginning to learn how to get control of their powers. Fire breath was extremely common, after all. He willed his wings to carry him faster—they were built for speed, even in his larger form, if he could get there even a little bit quicker—but when he arrived back at his nest, deep in the thickest forest they could find, the massive woven cocoon was burning. There was no one around, no one trying to put out or even lessen the flames, which pruned hot and thick and released plumes of dark black smoke.
No-
It was supposed to be fine, everyone was supposed to be okay while he was gone. A trip out from the collective nest to get a few small things they’d need. He wasn’t even gone that long, barely even a week. He rushed inside, the smoke was thick and heavy, blanketing the entire area and making it difficult to breathe. A burning sensation so strong poured through his throat and lungs that he wasn’t sure how long he could stand it, but maybe, just maybe he’d be able to find at least one survivor.
He searched the wreckage for what felt like hours, though it was probably a few minutes at most, only finding blood and scattered belongings. That is, until he stumbled upon something in one of the personal nests, one built away from where everyone would usually dogpile, specifically for caring for an egg that had not yet hatched.
He’d already searched several solitary nests, and wasn’t expecting to find anything new. But as he dug around in the bouts of soft fabric, straw, twigs, and feathers, his hand brushed upon the surface of something smooth. He quickly pushed all the weavings of the nest to the side and reached in, pulling out exactly what he had suspected. There in his hands rested an egg—it was mainly a silvery white, with spots and speckles of blue and gold. It was smaller than an average egg, and he worried how long it had been left to its own. If the hatchling inside was even still alive, that is.
Dream lifted it up into his arms and carried it out of the collective nest. It was the last solitary nest he’d checked, and he knew anything else of value was already stolen. Plus, he knew he’d have to get out of the smoke. It was getting harsher and harsher by the minute.
When he got outside, he stood wondering what to do next. He couldn’t care for the egg, he’d never been left responsible for something like that. He was still what would be considered a teen. He had only ever looked after hatchlings, and that was always for short periods at a time, just until their proper guardian could take over once again. Raising young was always a communal job, and finding another nesting—which had been growing more and more sparse due to how much their race had been hunted, would be difficult.
He couldn’t stay at his home nest, as much as it pained him. He knew that it was too far gone to save at this point and the hunters who left him in this situation would likely return in search of any stragglers. He had lived here since he had hatched, a good two hundred or so years of experience, of existence and family, all gone.
He set out under the cover of dusk, between that and the smoke he was less likely to be spotted through the thick canopy of trees. Flying in the clouds wasn’t an option, as it was far too cold for the egg to survive.
For a long time he traveled away from any towns or cities he knew of, choosing to hunt for his food rather than go into a market to buy things. The air was starting to get a bit of a chill to it, and he had to switch from traveling at night, to lighting fires to keep himself and the egg warm. Walking through the day, as flying now held too much of a risk, far easier for any possible onlookers to see his horns and tail paired with his wings. They could easily tell what he is, take the egg—and though he could possibly fight them, if they were hunters they could take him down without much effort. He was young, on his own, and handicapped by the egg he carried with him.
So, he kept his wings and tail hidden, and eventually took to carving a mask whenever he’d stop to rest so that he could hide the feathers and scales that dotted his face. He could disguise his horns, make them resemble that of some other horned being, by having it so the pearl that floated between them was strung in chains of gold, in an allusion of simple decoration. Anyone who’d spot him would only think him a demon, wandering the overworld.
It was only when he’d traveled so far that snow constantly fell from the sky that he found something. A small house, nestled within the confines of the forest. He started camping near it, observing the people who lived there. The most notable was the avian man, which could be promising, as hatchling dragons closely resemble avians. Having only wings, it would only be later in their life that they’d be questioned about why they still had soft feathery down, and couldn’t do more than glide and get a few feet off the ground, and by that point the hatchling would soon grow their adult wings and reveal themself as a dragon.
The others of the cabin were young, seeming to still be hatchlings. One had dark hair and wings like the older avian, while the other had light pink hair and could often be found out in the yard with either of the cabin’s other inhabitants seemingly training with various different kinds of weaponry. He wondered if they were training to be a hunter, which could actually help a great deal in the long run of keeping the hatchling in the egg hidden. If he left the egg with them they would likely assume it was an avian, at least for a while. It was typical custom for humans and human adjacents to let their young wander, especially close to the age hatchlings would grow into fledgelings. Plus, no one would suspect a young dragon in a house of hunters. So, as long as the hatchling left before their adult wings sprouted—or if they somehow tangled themselves around the hearts of these people that they would be loved and protected regardless (though Dream would highly doubt that possibility), then maybe they’d have a good chance at surviving.
Dream observed the people of the cabin for a while, but eventually the biting cold was getting too much for even him to ward off. He had to make his choice, and soon. The egg wouldn’t be able to survive like this for much longer.
Dream sat at his survey point, watching and wondering if the risk was worth it. If there was a chance that he would be able to care for the hatchling himself. He wasn’t sure which option was more selfish; keeping the egg with him when he knew very little of how to raise a child, dragging the hatchling along with him as he ventured the world and possibly leading them both into a death trap, or leaving it with these strangers to a fate he’d likely never learn, out of sight and out of mind.
But… The egg likely wouldn’t hatch for quite some time. A few months to even a few years depending on how old it was. Any amount of time bringing about something so fragile on what could likely turn to hazardous adventures could lead to some incident where it broke or got too jostled and either hurt, or, worse yet, killed the hatchling inside.
After long thought and consideration, he chose to leave the egg on their doorstep late at night. Unfurling his wings and swooping in, making it near impossible to be tracked, setting it down under the overhang of the roof and bidding a good luck wish, then loudly knocking on the door and taking off into the cold night air, letting his wings quickly carry him away from the small house. He hoped that the hatchling would be able to survive and live a good life, maybe free from all the horrors he had been forced to witness in his own. It was high hoping, but maybe the small mercies of their dwindling race would bring on the metaphorical extinction of those who had hunted them to this point.
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Eighteen years later, he sits perched up in a tree, watching as two young teens try to put out a fire that was quickly engulfing a house. Panicked shouts as they realize that they couldn’t lessen the flames. He watches as they flee, arms full of stolen items. He hummed softly as he took notice of how the younger of two’s wings were still covered in soft downy feathers, how he’d only flap his wings to keep pace with the taller boy.
How interesting. He thought to himself. How interesting indeed.
