Draxus Flameheart's Arc

Chapter 2 of 9

Night fell fast on the ruined clan-hold. The two hatchlings shivered against Draxus's boots. The lightning one hissed weakly. The ice one had gone quiet, and quiet frightened him more. Every wall stood broken. No roof held. The scavengers had burned all the wood. If he found no warm den soon, both hatchlings would freeze before dawn. Draxus wrapped them inside his cloak and searched the rubble. His hammer's flame lit cracked stone. He kicked aside a fallen beam and found a stair going down. The scavengers had missed it. He carried the hatchlings into the dark. The stair ended at a heavy stone door. Draxus set his shoulder to it and pushed. It groaned open. Beyond lay a round chamber cut into the rock. Old nests lined the walls, dry and lined with straw. Sealed jars stood in a row. The scavengers had never found this room. Warmth still lived in its deep stone. He laid the hatchlings in the nearest nest. The ice one stirred. Then a voice spoke behind him. "You'll kill them, warming them too fast." Draxus spun, hammer raised. A short elven woman stood in the doorway. She held no weapon. A wyvern's claw marked her worn cloak. Her eyes went past him to the hatchlings, sharp and certain. "Who are you?" he said. "Kerra Wingborn. I track wyverns. I saw two chained ones flee this hold today." She stepped inside without asking. "You freed them. Now you don't know how to keep them alive." Draxus lowered the hammer. Pride told him to argue. The silent ice hatchling told him not to. "Then teach me." Kerra knelt at the nest. She pressed her palm to the ice hatchling's chest and frowned. "This one runs cold by nature. It doesn't need heat. It needs to burrow." She dug straw around the small body until only its snout showed. The hatchling's breathing eased. The lightning one she moved closer to Draxus's warmth. "That one needs you. Skin, not fire. Hold it." He opened his cloak and tucked the hatchling against his chest. It stopped shivering. Kerra opened one of the sealed jars. Dried meat and fat filled it. "Your ancestors stocked this room for hatchlings. They knew the cold." She fed strips to both wyverns. The lightning one snapped them down. The ice one took food for the first time in days. Draxus watched her work and understood. This buried room had kept his clan's young alive for generations. His forebears had left him one thing the raiders never stole. "Stay," he said. "I have crossed a wasteland for these walls. I don't know how to hold what's left." Kerra sat back on her heels and studied him. "You want more than a den. I can see it." She nodded once. "I'll stay. But you tell me what you're truly after." The hatchlings slept, warm at last. The den was won. Now Draxus had to decide how much of his hunt to trust her with.