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“There was a WHAT!?”
“Yeah, another egg. Weird, huh? I think Cattail might’ve traded it in?”
“And she did WHAT!?”
“Yeah, to these random dragons that showed up out of nowhere. Dunno what that was about… Welp, back to training.”
And the offending dragon walked cheerily along, leaving behind a quintet of shocked, horrified, and infuriated faces.
“Let’s go find that Cattail and scorch her wings off!” Crane roared, Marsh and Pheasant pulling her back from doing just that.
Reed could only stare blankly at the dragon’s retreating back. As he disappeared into the swamp, his attention turned to his family.
To Marsh, the quickest of them all with a caution that has saved them more times than he could count.
To Pheasant, the sensible one with the cool head who always kept their spirits lifted.
To Sora, quiet and intelligent, who kept him up at night whenever she begged for a bedtime story.
To Umber, the smallest of the siblings holding the purest of hearts.
And to Crane, his second-in-command, the dragon whose fiery temper was only ever ignited to protect her younger siblings, never to burn or scorch them no matter how hot the flames were.
Five dragons (six, if you counted Reed) who were so different yet so alike in so many ways. Five dragons designed and built for each other, to act as each other’s strengths, their catalysts. They were a team, had been for the last two years of training, and Reed had sworn to protect each and every one of them with every scale on his body, every ember in his throat.
It was his duty after all, being the oldest and largest; it was the job he was made for.And he already failed, before he even hatched.
While he led his siblings back to their oh-so humble abode, after another exhausting day spent preparing for a battle set somewhere in the far future, he could not help but think that this band of five should be a band of six. As they loaded themselves into the hut, he half-expected to see a sixth tail slip by. He managed to clear his mind for a moment by comforting Crane, who was still puffing out smoke, before he gingerly wrapped Pheasant’s leg. His sister had endured a nasty hit during a mock fight against an older troop when he was too busy losing that fight to the enemy's leader.
It wasn’t until they were all huddled together, on the coldest night he had ever known, that he wondered why there wasn’t a sixth dragonet joining their pile.
That was when it finally hit him. Three years ago, someone had come into their nursery when his siblings were at their most vulnerable and stole what was rightfully his. And what was he doing at that time? Snuggled inside a shell, completely useless.
He knew he should have stopped there, lest Pheasant awake and smack him over the head (he could've sworn she was half-NightWing from how she was always able to know when he was ruminating), but this was worse than all those other times he failed them. This was far worse than poor performances and late hatchings.
His family was taken from him, from them, and he was completely oblivious! Someone he should have known as well as the spines on his back was a stranger to him. He didn’t know what their strengths were, what their weaknesses were. He didn’t know what their favorite food was, their favorite game. He didn’t even know if he lost a little brother or a little sister.
Somewhere, a little MudWing had no one to huddle up with. A dragonet far too young to be on their lonesome was shivering in the cold, starving without someone to provide for them, never knowing the warmth and comfort of the marshes. A little MudWing left to whimper and call for the big brother they had never known.
Or what if the dragonet was already long gone?
Reed shoved his face into their measly bedding. He shouldn’t think of that, couldn’t think of that. If he allowed himself for even a second to imagine what remained of his littlest sibling, the image would stay with him for the rest of his life. How could he help his current family if he was too preoccupied with the one he lost?
Besides, the world couldn’t be so cruel to a lost dragonet. Although he had never known any place outside the swamplands of the Mud Kingdom, he knew the outside world existed. Maybe his little sibling had found a new troop to join, new brothers and sisters to cherish them.
A jealous claw raked his chest.
Umber mumbled in his sleep, pushing his snout into Crane’s shoulder, who in turn inched ever so closer to Reed in annoyance, and his heart warmed like a blooming fire.
Umber, Crane, Marsh, Pheasant, Sora; he still had them. They weren’t taken that fateful night, and though he might mourn his lost little sibling with all his might, he at least could rest easy knowing there was still a family he hadn’t failed, not yet.
And as long as he kept that in mind, kept them close to him. The worst has already passed.
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This was so much worse.
Worse than learning his troop were the last to hatch in their nest. Worse than being sent into their first battle at just six years old. Worse than when his little sibling vanished before he could even meet them.
He would fight a hundred battles, bare the emotional toil tenfold, sacrifice his wings and fire, if it would just bring Crane back.
His second-in-command, his little sister, was dead.
If only he’d been better. If only he wasn’t wrestling with that stupid IceWing. If only he was stronger, had the decency to turn his head to see that his baby sister was in danger. If only he was fast enough to rescue her from the IceWing’s claws. If only, if only, if only.
But he wasn’t enough. By the time he had finally turned around, Crane was already gone.
The troop of six returned to their village a troop of five. All of them bore new scars, not even little Umber was spared. Reed had failed once again, just like he had failed his littlest sibling. That unhatched egg with no face or name or voice to give it. He’d been so certain that his sibling had to be safe, had to be happy wherever they were, but he knew now what a fantasy that was.
His youngest sibling died that night, without any brothers or sisters to make their last moments bearable.
He was the worst brother in the history of the Mud Kingdom. There was no denying that.
His tail dragged through the mud, the blood long since dried. He headed towards his home, already dreading spending another night without Crane, when Umber blocked his path.
He looked excited, joyous even.
“I think I found our missing brother!”
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His little brother was… a lot bigger than he’d imagined.
At first, after Umber had excitedly led them to where he saw the stranger, Reed was determined to not let his hopes up. His little brother was dead, deader than Crane. But this dragon was no stranger. How could it be when they already shared so much? Scales, spines, and eyes so familiar that Reed felt he had known them for all his life.
They had to be family.
Now, after years of silent torment, he finally had a name to put to the little brother he had failed. And with that name came a second chance.
Clay fit perfectly into their troop, as if they had been together since day one. They eagerly answered all his questions, shocked at how little he knew of their own culture. He didn’t even know what a BigWings was! Pheasant gladly explained, looking pridefully at Reed while she did so. She was just saying how the first duty of a BigWings was to help their younger siblings out of their eggs when Clay’s companion gasped.
“That’s what it was!” The MudWing with the peculiar name said, as if she had finally solved some puzzle, “The guardians didn’t know anything about MudWings, so they thought you were attacking us. But you were trying to help.”
Clay, at first, seemed confused, before relief spread across his face. He smiled disbelievingly at Reed.
Reed felt his heart shatter.
That was why he failed so consistently since the day he hatched. That was why he struggled to get his siblings out of their eggs. That’s why Crane was dead. Clay wasn’t his lost, little sibling, needing Reed to protect him. Clay was his big brother, his BigWings. Reed was supposed to be his second-in-command, the Crane of what was always meant to be Clay’s troop.
Maybe if he had stayed with them since the very beginning, if Reed had known his place, they would be a troop of seven.
He couldn’t change what was past, but he could at least right his wrongs to prevent more damage. Pheasant refused to accept it and his other siblings rushed to defend him (why, though, when he had failed them at everything that mattered?) but this was something he needed to do. He would gladly give up his position. It was Clay’s right.
But Clay refused. Just as Reed had predicted on that cold night, he had his own troop to return to. He had a little brother and three sisters to look after already. They were on their own mission, their own journey.
“Reed is your BigWings.” Clay stated, as if it were the unfiltered truth, “You trust him and you need him. I couldn’t replace him even if I tried.”
And as they said their goodbyes (Or, as Clay put it, “see you later.”) Reed watched as the big brother he never knew he needed flew away. But he didn’t feel as empty or as crushed as he was expecting.
Clay’s words rang in his head, sparked to life like a great flame, illuminating every dark corner until he felt awash in warmth.
He might not have been born for this role, and he might be less than inadequate, but his leader gave him a duty to fulfill. He would not let Clay down, not like he had done Crane.
He would see that his family made it to the end of this war or die trying.