Flap… flap, flap! A rhythmless series of attempts. Two flimsy, endearingly small wings pushed as much wind as they reasonably could, accomplishing nothing more than stirring ash and loose stone. Around him, the gathered dragonlings growled and chirped like a lively crowd, perhaps cheering him on.

  Sylth was trying his best to take off, jumping and flapping from boulders, steep ridges, or the rim of the basin itself. Each fall hurt, sharply enough to distract him, if not for his relentless desire to be like the others. They flew with ease, spat fire, chased one another through the air.

  Through countless recent sleeps, he had devoted himself to this single goal.

  “Sylth!”

  His name rang out sharply, and that was precisely when he hit the ground again. At least this time, the fall felt slower, stretched, almost gentle. He rolled once before coming to a stop, ash clinging to his scales. Shooting a glance toward the voice, Sylth all but radiated dissatisfaction with himself.

  The approaching red dragon noticed. The reaction suited him well.

  “You glided this time,” he said, a note of pride in his voice. “You’re almost flying.”

  Those optimistic words were a constant, but for once, they weren’t entirely wrong. Sylth had heard countless hints about flying. It comes from your heart, let your body know you want to fly. None of it explained what he was supposed to do.

  His attempts at fire were no better. According to the other hatchlings, once he figured out flying, breathing fire would come naturally. Sylth flexed his wings, feeling that same faint, unfamiliar warmth within him, buried beneath the soreness that had steadily accumulated.

  “We can still play ground chase!” a nearby hatchling called out, bright and eager, echoing the restless energy of the others.

  Watching them, Sylth had begun to notice just how different dragons could be. Some bore fins along their necks and crests, others lacked horns entirely. A few had wings that stretched nearly to their tails, and there were even those with jagged, spiked scales running down their backs.

  There was no discernible moment when it began; the hatchlings were simply chasing one another all of a sudden. The difference between a hunt and these games was that no one committed fully to anything, constantly switching targets and tactics without warning. Tail sweeps, snapping jaws or claws, and bursts of fire. Even if harmless, there was a shared sense of triumph in dodging a stream of flame, and everyone seemed to agree that being chased was half the fun.

  Sylth hadn’t joined yet. He lingered at the edge of the chaos, caught between his restless urge to master flight and the ache settling deep into his tired bones. With that red dragon still staring at him, Sylth decided to speak up.

  “Maelyx, when will we hunt?” the hatchling asked to the red hatchling ahead. In recent days, the younglings had always hunted together, and it had quickly become his favorite part of the cycle. Dimmed only by the fact that he was the only one who had to stay close to another for safety.

  The Maelyx pondered, lifting his gaze toward the sky for a moment before answering. “We can ask the elder.”

  That only meant all the hatchlings would hunt together again, which usually came with an almost impossible chance of finding anything at all. With so many small dragons fanning out through the forest, the odds of catching unsuspecting prey were close to none. Still, every recent hunt had been like that. By now, Sylth did it for the thrill alone, often having to share whatever prey the others managed to catch.

  “Okay,” Sylth replied. Together, they headed for a climbable ridge near the basin’s edge. The path was long compared to flying, yet another reason the little hatchling was so desperate to take to the air.

  When they finally reached the top, their gazes fell upon the immense crystal dragon in the distance. It took quite some time to reach him; the terrain was uneven, broken, and far from level.

  “Elder,” Maelyx said. It was an almost ritualistic act, one Sylth had come to recognize. His usual loud, erratic speech softened, stripped of its chaos, and he lowered his head until it nearly brushed the ground.

  The other hatchlings had explained it to him once. The gesture carried gratitude, an acknowledgment of what had been given and done, the appreciation owed for past actions. At the same time, it conveyed respect. Recognition of the elder’s place within the family and the clan, an unspoken agreement to honor that standing.

  Sylth wasn’t used to it, but when the elder’s eyes settled on him, he immediately copied Maelyx’s stance. As always, no words were needed. The reply came before a word ever reached the elder.

  “Tell the others you may go west, to the gravel riverbank. Do not spread yourselves too thin.”

  Relief warmed Sylth’s chest at the confirmation. He lifted his head just enough to acknowledge the command, already imagining the scent of water and stone, and the brief, precious chance that today’s hunt might yield good results.

  Stamina was becoming a problem. Perhaps he should have rested before asking about the hunt. Only now did Sylth realize how thoroughly he had angered his body with all the flapping, falling, and climbing. By the time they regrouped with the other hatchlings, every step already drew a quiet protest from his muscles.

  When they finally set off west, the mere thought of walking as far as the first trees of the taiga made his limbs tense. The others flew ahead in bursts of excited energy, while Sylth settled into a slower pace. Still, he followed. The ache was sharp, but the pull of the hunt was sharper. An instinct that urged him onward, whispering that rest could come later, after purpose had been fulfilled.

  Ever so often came the thought that all the prey would have fled once he reached the forest, or maybe the hunt would be called off early. That was probably his body trying to influence his mind, but his mind was set on hunting something today.

  Now that he noticed it, perhaps he had been a little dense before. Maelyx was walking right beside him, in no hurry at all to reach the hunting grounds. Whatever the reason, Sylth couldn’t help but enjoy the company; being left behind on his own would have stung more than he cared to admit.

  He might not yet understand what the elder had done to earn such deep gratitude, but he knew what Maelyx had done for him. Thinking back, Maelyx had always been the one to stay with him during hunts, never rushing ahead, never claiming a target for himself. Compared to the other hatchlings, who constantly squabbled over prey, that behavior was… strange.

  “Maelyx,” Sylth asked, the simplest conclusion forming in his tired mind, “do you not like to hunt?”

  The question made Maelyx pause. He seemed caught off guard, but a few moments later. Just as they jumped down from a low ledge, the answer came.

  “I like hunting,” he said, “but probably not as much as you do.”

  The admission didn’t dull Sylth’s gratitude. If anything, it explained why hunting with Maelyx had always felt different. Why Sylth had more chances, why there was less pressure. More than that, he was never alone. There was always someone to play with him, even if he couldn’t fly yet.

  “I’m grateful for your company,” Sylth said.

  That caught Maelyx by surprise again, didn’t seem to be that hard to do that.

  “You’re not bad company either,” Maelyx replied, a little awkwardly.

  Before long, they reached the forest. The relief was so overwhelming that Sylth nearly collapsed right there, giving in to the ache in his bones. He held himself together, this was the moment to focus.

  He reached out with his senses, but they were polluted by the presence of so many nearby hatchlings. Every scent and sound blurred together, making it impossible to isolate prey. Helpless, Sylth glanced toward Maelyx as they continued deeper into the trees, hoping, that he would know what to do next.

  To their dismay, the search was short-lived before they reached the river. The permitted hunting area was extremely small this time, barely a mile. Turning back was their only real option. At least the scenery was more interesting than the scorched stone fields they’d left behind.

  They weren’t the only unlucky hatchlings. The land so close to their home was nearly void of prey, a consequence of generations of hunting. Such places were rarely populated; unless a creature was fast enough to outrun a dragon, hiding from one was little more than a pipe dream.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Sylth had grown fond of a small hobby: finding hidden things, tucked beneath tree bark or buried in shallow earthen dens. It was never about what he found; more often than not, the prizes were nothing more than plants or stones. Still, uncovering them filled him with a quiet sense of accomplishment.

  That was why he suddenly decided to peer inside a fallen tree trunk lying half-rotted on the ground. Its hollow was teeming with insects. Bugs weren’t food for dragons, were far too small, so it was strange to see a hatchling reaching his claws inside.

  Maelyx’s eyes widened as Sylth began pulling out one object after another. As usual, Sylth had no idea what most of them were, but he added them to his collection all the same. Over time, it had grown into a small pile, added to with every hunt. Since he was rarely successful at catching prey, he brought these trinkets back instead, stashing them in a secret spot near the basin where they played.

  Maelyx, however, recognized some of the items. With each one Sylth unearthed, his interest only grew.

  “What are these?” Maelyx asked, stepping closer, his curious gaze sweeping over the dirt-stained items scattered on the ground.

  “I don’t know,” Sylth answered, finishing his search and confirming there was nothing else inside the trunk. He turned his attention to the small pile, carefully separating dirt, splinters, and leaves from whatever stood out enough to earn a place in his growing collection.

  “I think I’ve seen this in a book,” Maelyx said, nudging one of the objects with careful interest.

  “What’s a book?”

  “They’re little things with worlds inside them,” Maelyx replied.

  “Worlds?” Sylth paused. To him, a world was everything—the forest, the volcano, the ground beneath his claws and the sky above. A concept too vast to be folded into anything small. His confusion sharpened into disbelief.

  “That’s a lie!” Sylth exclaimed, flaring his presence as strongly as he could manage. The sudden force startled Maelyx.

  Learning about lies had not been pleasant. Once, he had believed everything he was told, until the elder intervened and explained the idea to him. Before that, Sylth had been convinced that if he failed to learn how to fly, his wings would eventually fall off.

  Like any hatchling, Maelyx didn’t enjoy being flared at. He rebuked in kind, radiating back with a sharp snort. “No, it’s not!”

  “A world is big, not small!” Sylth snarled, offended by the very idea.

  “Books have little worlds in them,” Maelyx insisted, determination clear in his posture. “If you don’t believe me, I can show you!”

  Usually, calling something a lie was enough to end a game or an argument. Sylth still struggled to understand it all, but curiosity tugged at him anyway.

  “Okay,” he said at last. “You can show me after I put these in their new place.” He gathered the chosen items and placed them carefully on his back.

  “Okay!” Maelyx replied, still unsure whether it was time to stand down. He kept his teeth bared as he followed Sylth forward, his anger slow to fade.

  Sylth was so tired he didn’t even realize he had reached his hiding spot. Worse—he had just shown it to someone else. He kept it secret for a reason. Once, he had left his finds out in the open, only to return and find them gone. The idea of hiding them had come from his sister, who apparently liked to stash things away as well.

  Now there was a red dragon standing right in front of his cache as Sylth began unearthing it from beneath the rocks that concealed it. Maelyx radiated curiosity at the sight of the varied little objects within. The hatchlings were used to the same familiar scenery; anything different was a novelty.

  Sylth finished storing his new finds, carefully settling them into place. Almost immediately, Maelyx spoke again.

  “I think that’s a book!”

  “Where?” Sylth asked, snapping his head left and right as if the book were a living thing hiding in some corner.

  Maelyx reached into the pile.

  Sylth pounced on him without thinking, knocking him slightly aside. Thanks to the size difference, Maelyx didn’t stop. He kept reaching, claws closing around something as he pulled it free.

  “Those are my things!” Sylth exclaimed, making sure Maelyx’s scales understood the message as well, his claws delivering it plainly while the red dragon scrambled to his feet, trying to shake off the clingy hatchling latched onto him.

  “This is what I was talking about,” Maelyx insisted, holding a rolled sheet of paper in his jaws. Sylth only released his grip once the larger hatchling dropped the item, letting it fall to the ground.

  Curious despite himself, Sylth inspected it. Prodding, dragging, and nudging it with his claws. The longer he examined it, the more confused he became.

  “I knew it was a lie,” the little dragon concluded at last, disappointment heavy in his voice.

  “No, it’s not complete,” Maelyx said, unfazed. “But I’m sure there’s a part of it left. I can read it for you.”

  “What’s read?” Sylth asked.

  “There are words inside it. Reading is speaking those words—to yourself, or to others.”

  “It has words? Then why can’t it speak?”

  “Because it isn’t alive.”

  That only puzzled Sylth further. Words came from dragons. He couldn’t sense anything from the object at all—no presence, no intent. It felt as though he were being handed one lie after another.

  “So read it, then!” he said anyway.

  Maelyx tried to unfold it, but a thin string bound the paper tight. He poked and scratched at it carefully, to no effect. Pulling harder risked tearing the fragile sheet, and frustration crept in.

  “What are you doing?”

  The sudden voice startled them both. Sylth looked up to see his sister hovering above, descending toward them little by little. Once she got close enough, Maelyx was the first to speak up.

  “Hey, Iono. We’re trying to read a book,” Maelyx said.

  That was enough to make her stop mid-landing. “Oh no. That sounds unbelievably boring,” she said flatly, already turning to fly off, until her gaze drifted to the contents of the hole. She hesitated, then changed course.

  “No, it’s not!” Maelyx snorted, sparks flickering at his nostrils.

  Iono bounced closer after landing. At first, her attention lingered on the stash, but it soon shifted to the small parchment lying on the ground.

  “What’s that?”

  “That’s mine!” Sylth snapped instantly, claws reaching to shield it.

  Maelyx didn’t even have time to speak before Iono shot back, “Then let’s fight for it.”

  Both hatchlings dropped into battle stances in the blink of an eye, while Maelyx could only watch, openly confused.

  “Hey, you don’t even like books,” he protested.

  “No,” Iono replied without hesitation. “I just want it because he has it.”

  “If that’s the case,” Maelyx said, stepping in beside Sylth, “I’ll join him. And then you won’t get it.”

  All three were battle-ready now, locked in a tense staring contest.

  Iono struck first.

  She lunged without warning, a feinted snap aimed high before her tail whipped low. Sylth barely reacted in time, springing backward as his claws scraped stone. The parchment skidded away across the ground. Maelyx moved instantly, slamming into Iono’s side and knocking her off balance. Her tail struck him hard, but it wasn’t enough to break his stance, however much the impact hurt.

  She hissed, wings flaring, then twisted and drove a hind claw into Maelyx’s chest. He grunted and slid back, sparks bursting from his nostrils in reflex.

  Sylth darted in low, snapping at Iono’s foreleg. She was strong enough to overpower him, but not enough to completely smother his presence in the scuffle. As she tried to shake him loose, Maelyx returned, slamming into her again and sending her tumbling.

  Her tail lashed out in return, catching Maelyx squarely and making his head ring. She rolled, dragging Sylth with her; his habit of clinging tight sent him flipping upside down and crashing to the ground.

  Maelyx rushed back in, only to be met with fire. Flames washed over his head, disorienting him for a split second. It was too late when clarity returned. Iono’s jaws snapped shut around his neck.

  Iono wrenched her head back, dragging the red dragon with her as her claws planted themselves against his torso. She noticed at once that the smaller hatchling was already back on his feet, and without hesitation she hurled herself toward Sylth, carrying Maelyx down with her.

  The impact drove the air from Sylth’s lungs. Iono’s wings screamed under her own weight, but the pain beneath her was worse. Doubled, perhaps tripled for the little hatchling pinned below. Feeling both of them starting to break free, she released Maelyx and sprang upward instead.

  What followed was a rapid exchange of tail strikes. Both larger hatchlings had the same idea at once. A tail was a powerful weapon in a dragon’s arsenal, but also one of the most sensitive. When the two tails collided, the pain was sharp and immediate, enough to make both of them shudder in place.

  Sylth seized the opening. He pounced, slamming into Iono and driving her back to the ground once more. Her gaze flicked to Sylth’s wings. Knowing how hard he had been training them, she lunged and clamped her jaws down on one with all the strength she had. Pain flared hot and sudden, forcing Sylth to retreat just as Maelyx crashed back into the fight.

  The struggle settled into a brutal rhythm, gain, escape, counter. Yet somehow Iono always slipped free before the advantage could be fully pressed. Maelyx and Iono met head-on, strength against strength, while Sylth darted in and out. Latching on, being thrown clear, then returning again with stubborn persistence.

  Eventually, all three collapsed into a loose, ash-streaked tangle. Panting, scorched, scraped raw. Too exhausted to continue, and far too stubborn to admit defeat.

  “What is that book even about, anyway?” Iono asked after nearly an hour of scuffling.

  “We don’t know,” Maelyx replied, still half-snarly despite his exhaustion. “I couldn’t unfold it yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Look, there’s a little thing holding it.” He padded over, hooked the parchment with a claw, and dragged it closer for her to see.

  Iono leaned in, squinting. “That’s it? That’s nothing.”

  “Oh yeah?” Maelyx challenged. “You try it, then.”

  She didn’t hesitate. To the others’ surprise, she grabbed a sharp stone in her jaws and lowered herself over the rolled parchment. Pinning it with a claw, she tried to chip away at the string with careful taps. It wasn’t working. After a moment, she huffed and gave up.

  “See?” Maelyx said. “We need smaller claws for this.”

  “I tried too. It didn’t work,” Sylth added at once.

  “No,” Maelyx replied. “You’re still too big.”

  Sylth froze, the realization settling in. “Smaller than me?”

  “Yes. I’ll go get it. It’ll only take a minute.”

  Maelyx stretched his aching body and then took off. The two hatchlings left behind were still recovering from the scuffle, watching as he shrank into the distance.

  Sylth’s curiosity grew with every passing moment. Up until now, he had never seen a hatchling even close to his size. Everyone else was older, bigger, stronger. The thought of finally meeting someone smaller, someone who might truly be his match, made his chest flutter with anticipation.

  At last, Maelyx came back into view, descending and landing before them. Sylth searched eagerly for the other dragon the whole time, until he felt it. A presence perched atop Maelyx.

  When the unfamiliar creature hopped down, confusion flooded Sylth. It had no wings. Any thought of it being a dragon would have vanished entirely if not for the scales and small horns. Standing upright on its hind legs, the little thing still barely reached Sylth’s chest.

  Maelyx anticipated the confusion. Guessing Sylth had never seen one before, he explained gently, “Sylth, this is my kobold. I call him Duke.”

  He nudged the small creature’s head with a claw. Duke seemed to enjoy it, wobbling slightly with the motion.

  Iono stepped closer, curiosity plain, but the kobold immediately darted behind Maelyx’s foreleg, earning an annoyed huff from her.

  Sylth barely noticed. Maelyx’s words echoed in his mind, stirring questions upon questions.

  Kobold.