The Night of the Valley Dragons

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

During the day they stayed in their dens and in forest, out of the heat of the sun. But at night, along the canyon walls and in the canopies, puffs of light fired in the dark.

The youngest cave pups, covered in black fur and with smooth wings fluttering on their backs, chased each other with red spouts along the ridges of the steep natural walls, the red light guiding them as their new eyes took in the cliffs and valley below. Their older siblings, covered in fur of browns and reds, glided beside them on the cool night air, orange embers twinkling as guides to take care that the pup didn’t follow the pebbles that their soft claws sent tumbling down into the woods. The oldest brother boldly followed the plains stones, large ears listening to the stone tink against stone and patter through the trees below. Yellow flames cast the leaves in gold as he searched for fruit. If he could find ripe fruit that matched his bright red chest, or match the green of the leaves with his fire, he could proudly soar high in the clouds. White streaks and spots would color their fur, until they shown a brilliant and pure white as they breathed cyan fire that would outshine the stars.

The cave dragon glided towards a rustling branch, smiling as the forest dragon climbing along it jumped. Orange flames with yellow tongues spouted after him, the forest dragon’s plumage purple, green, then pink as he shifted in the moonlight to continue watching his siblings. The youngest members of the forest flock preened their pitch black feathers, then rolled over each other in the dirt and grass poking up through the branches and underbrush. Their plumage would grow to shine and change with the light, then like their brother’s get brighter still, until a coat of shimmering white feathers started to grow along their wings and back, their entire plumage turning a warm, pearly white as they reached adulthood and matured to one day perhaps find a mate. Their parents glided low over the river water now, their feathered wings not disturbing the surface or the dark fish that swam under it.

A living, shimmering moon, a powerful talon shot into the water and claimed its prize. The massive, indigo-scaled trout wriggled until the adult forest dragon cleanly bit into it with a sharp beak. Returning to the tree-line to feed her family, she looked to the young cave dragon as he fell in with her. She hadn’t seen his mother for a few nights. He wasn’t hungry though, proudly showing her the bushel of fruit nearly too bountiful for his growing claws to carry. He flew off and was joined in the distance by his older sibling, star light blazing across the white streaks in her red fur as she helped her brother return to their den with the sweet prizes.

Clouds drifted over the moon, the wisps hanging in the sky forerunners to heavy curtains that would come with the dawn. The younger cave dragon breathed a jet of yellow flames, his sister pulling ahead with a mischievous cock of her head and swallowing his flames with her green ones. Cyan lapped at the edges of them. Her brother starred. She had nearly done it. The stars themselves seemed to dim for a moment. Then they were gone altogether.

True blue flames painted the summer sky. Their father’s wings eclipsed the moon as he joined his children, flying above them in the cool breeze, The trio returned to the mouths waiting in the cliffside cave, only a few berries falling back down to the water below. The scaled swimmers quickly snatched them up.

There weren’t always dragon in the Valley. Soon, there wouldn’t be any.