The Whispersong

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Once, a long time ago it was said that a mysterious creature called a m'an kind was said to have roamed the green lands. On long wistful evenings Broodmother Enrys would gather the 'lings around her, coiling back her deep red scales, and releasing the soft down of her underfeathers and sing the songs of the once was. Of trees made of Stone called Casteels, and the endless wars of the M'an and their children. She would wind on in tremendous detail, burning one lyric after another into the air, as the stories took shape in tone and smoke. The favorites always seemed to be those of the foolish tales of those Elders who would wear the skins of other animals, and stones from the mountain while they sent their younglings out on the backs of horses to skewer each other.

To Ria however, they seemed like distant fairy tales. The broodmother was old (older than most of her kin) and seemed to enjoy twisting the world into lessons for the newly hatched. She herself couldn't really fly any more. Ria suspected she had grown to replace the lessons she had once taught with these stories in order to impart some form of knowledge to the young. It didn't matter to her though, as the broodmother's songs were by far the most beautiful she had ever felt. Even if she had only ever heard them from a distance.

It wasn't that Ria wasn't welcome around the fires at night. Nor was it that the elders and the Razerbacks or Kitewings didn't want her to be around. It was that the other fledglings were less than welcoming. At first it wasn't an issue for her. The others only shied away from her because she was the color of the river, and not the bright red, or deep ashen grey of all of the other sharptoothed. Then, it was because her wings were so much smaller. Most of her siblings and those of the other nests had wings as long as their tails. Ria's were barely as long as her front clawed feet.

This meant that when the others went off for gliding practice, she would simply stay behind at the periphery and watch as they tripped, then ran and then finally managed to glide a few sparing feet. She didn't mind just watching. She discovered that she could see every nuance of the performance if her kin. She knew exactly why Kir couldn't stay aloft for more than a few moments. She was keenly aware of why Topper could only make right turns once in the air. But when she tried to share it with them after practice they simply turned their backs on her.

And then had come the hunting. She was incredibly fast on the ground. Because Ria had no wings to weigh her down, and due to her small mousey ears, she could zoom to-and-fro between the trees far more quickly than her clumsy peers. This meant that when it was hunting time, she could always corner the Rabbits and other small creatures before they could get to their dens. Initially, this had earned her praise from Gir'halt, the largest hunter in the southern pack. But this too quickly turned to shame when he realized that she couldn't bring herself to actually kill any of her cornered prey.

This meant that when it was meal time, she couldn't share in the bounty of food gathered by the others. The more her stomach growled, the more hatred she had for the adorable little animals which frequented the outer edges of the wilds. One night however, when she was so desperate that she could have killed even one of her sisters or brothers just to make the grumbling in her stomach stop she had cornered a young deer just outside of the settlement. But when she stared into its big round eyes, she had simply fallen to her belly and laid there miserable and starving. It was then that the deer, seemingly unafraid of her, had dragged over a branch of small, red berries.

She had savored every one of those sweet little treats.

She had cried sweet tears that night. And suddenly being an outcast didn't seem so bad. Soon the broodlings grew to almost twice the size they had been when they had started gliding practice. One day, when sneaking back into the ring of stones where the nests rose along a twisted, ancient causeway of stone arches, she had heard a rush of action coming from every direction. Tok'ti, one of the other female younglings had bustled by her, sporting a set of wren feathers in her mane scales, and looking flushed.

Ria blinked at her to ask what was happening, and the color of Tok's scales turned to a bright orange. She let out a huge huff of air, and looked up at the summit of the Gods Stones. There, assembling one after another were all of the eldest drakes. Gir'halt could be seen standing on one of the ten's peaks atop the rise. And Enrys seemed to be fluttering down onto the lowest rockface. Two of the Cave Carver Dragons were blowing warm currents beneath her wings to help her glide into place. Her strain was obvious, but her face showed no signs of it. She seemed as Noble as always. Ria's large yellow eyes took in the sights of Ber'gurug the Thunder Caller, Hav'nos the Green Grower, and a half dozen others circling the skies.

She had never seen so many of the larger elder ones assemble in one place before. It was as if nature itself was moving out of the way just to allow so many powerful Dragons into the Valley. And just as suddenly as the din appeared, it went silent. Not just the Drakes, and Dragons, Elders and Younglings, but all of nature seemed to take one collective breath. A white cloud appeared above the centerplace's highest stone. In the center rose a massive blue rune which began to glow.

And then the humming began. It rose from every adult within miles. Ria became aware that there must have been thousands of her kind who had come great distances. The sound of the songs rose, and with them the images they imparted.

Instead of the usual portraits of memory however, the images that flooded through the mist were all of places she had never seen before. There were other valleys, places of frozen white, scenes of molten hot fire spewing forth from the ground, and deep thick rivers and oceans. She had no idea that the world could appear so different beyond the rise of the mountains which encircled her plateau.

But where these images met, at ever brightening blue symbol, came a song so pure, and bright that it almost hurt her heart to hear. And as it grew, the images around her faded, and left behind only a glowing cloud of white moonlight. And as the image of the moon expanded in the song, the most beautiful dragon she had ever seen stepped out from the center stone and release a roar that set the valley to instant quiet once more. Not out of fear, but out of awe at the energy it had contained.

When she had blinked away the shock she realized that tears were running down her face. She lifted a claw to wipe them away, only to notice that the younglings (her own kin, and colors of dragons she had never seen in her clan before) were climbing the old steppes that led up and around the stacked centerplace, and up to the dais on which this breathtaking Dragon now sat.

She looked around for any indication that others were staying behind, but in shock and fear realized that she was the only youngling not in the procession. With the speed that only she processed she quietly raced around the edge of the clearing, making her way to the back of the line. When she arrived she had to dig her claws into the ground to stop herself from slamming into a bright green earthen broodling with a long clawed tail. He turned around in surprise, but quickly recovered his composure and faced forward again. Tok snickered so hard that one of her feathers fell from her head. A nearby Skyhunter turned and silently threatened to lash her tail at Tok in response. Tok only glared at Ria and resumed her awkwardly dignified act.

They climbed for what seemed like hours, in silence, as the chill of the night set in. Until suddenly the line seemed to be coming to a slow and then stopped altogether. The Dragons all seemed to be organizing themselves near the matriarch or patriarch whom they had traveled with. And Ria realized that her siblings, as well as those of the two or three seasons prior were all clustered at the edge of the platform with Enrys at their back. As she looked around the massive gathering, she notices that the young charges from the other Elders were stationed much like herself, in a sort of semicircle with their patron to their back.

But her attention could only be held by the site of the others for a mere moment, as, marked by her appearance on the dais, the large white force of the Eldest Dragon pulled her own focus, and the focus of all those around her. In the back of her mind she felt a feeling of awe that even these ancient leaders of the Scaled Tribes were enthralled by this creature. A part of her wondered if it was respect, or if they too couldn't help but stare at this endlessly complex presence which sat at the center of her entire known world.

She was remarkable. As Ria gaped at her, she noticed that what she had mistaken for white fur was in fact thousands of tiny rainbow feathers. But as the Eldest breathed in and out, the colors fluxed and shifted like the light in tiny grains of sand. And with each shift in hew, the song it was calling out grew infinitely more complex. As she listened on, she could hear not one, but hundreds of layered melodies. It was as if Ria could hear the entire history of her people with each quiet, graceful breath of the giant presence in front of her.

Two things struck her as odd though. Firstly, the Eldest didn't seem to be singing. Not, at least, in the way that the Broodmother and the Trainers did. It was as if the songs were flowing out of the very air around them, powered somehow by the heartbeat which reverberated in the space between the Eldest and the rest of the gathered bloodlines. And secondly, that she, and she alone, seemed to be aware of the stacking sounds being emenated by their Matriarch. Though she saw various degrees of shock and respect on the faces of each of those gathered, none of their ears perked, or spines shifted the way hers was. They seemed somehow oblivious to the sounds which visibly rippled in thesteam around them.

And all at once it changed. The song suddenly went silent. And the rainbows settled into a still mountain of bright white feathers once more. With an outstretched claw the great Mother raised one powerful arm, and a current of light stemmed to a small flat stone beneath where she was perched. With a muddled roar, the Nighblack Dragon to the South indicated to his brood that it was time for something grand to begin. Trepidatiously, one of the eldest drakelings from his corner began to walk forward. A tall, lanky, barbed thing, Ria could tell that he was about to grow again. He showed all the signs of a molting, and from the way he walked it was easy to tell that he was bothered by the state of his scales.

Yet, as he reached the stone, something wondrous happened. The Eldest began to hum in not one, but a dozen voices. And as the sound filled the air, and the light grew, she Ria could tell that all gathered could see what she saw, and feel what she felt. As the sound grew in intensity, a picture formed over the grey youth and the stone on which he stood. It showed a broad, tawny grey Dragon, streaming down from the sky and strafing great colonies of Vipers from their dens. The young dragon released a sigh of deep relief, let out a humble tone that blended with the image and grinned, walking off of the dais, and toward a path that led around the stone. She could see that it led to a fork, and if the right path was taken, back to his corner of the ancient platform. As he walked away it dawned on Ria what was happening. Each Dragon was being given their song. A first vision from which all of their lives' tales would stem. A shiver of expectation ran down her spine, and she shook it off. (Much to the angst of the dragon in front of her, who seemed agitated by her sudden outburst).

Now a queue began to form, and one youngling from each corner joined the path, and began to process toward the center of the platform. As each stood atop the stone, they were added to the, now constant, stream of visions cast about by the song of the Elder Mother. Some laughed out loud, others jumped with excitement, and a few sulked from the circle, seemingly disappointed with their given vision and path. But each and every one to exit the circle had gained a song. Some were vibrant, others mellow, and each seemed to add to the song of the Eldest as they departed.

Suddenly, she began to understand what this night really meant. As each dragon came of age, and gained their own harmony and ability to speak through image and song, the song of the entirety of their bloodline was changed ever so slightly. The melody was enriched by the presence of each soul, and the Eldest seemed to change a little bit. This creature before her wasn't merely their sire. She was somehow the living embodiment of every Dragon heart which filled the Valley. The sheer gravity of this seemed to rock her. And for a moment Ria struggled to find her breath.

It was then that she noticed that she was next, and the last, in Enrys' corner. She joined the procession, and made her way slowly down the old cobbled stones. She tried in vain to seem noble, and ready for what she was about to experience. But for the first time in her life she finally felt as if she was going to be part of something. And that something was more complex and beautiful than she had ever imagined. As the round faced green dragon in front of her began to depart the face of the platform, his vision one of gathering large sums of Fruits from all corners of the world, and his song more of a gurgle than a note, she noticed that no one stood behind her. She had, likely by the grace of missing the evening meal, and therefore not hearing this evening's song, become the very last Dragon to receive her vision.

But the song, which had swelled around them all for the better part of the evening, suddenly trailed off and was replaced by a deafening silence. And with the sudden absence of the musical score of imagery, the night seemed incredible empty and cold. Her stomach turned to a wretch, and she felt the feeling of sick hunger and rejection that had become her mainstay with her siblings. She dared not look up at the Eldest. She could feel the deep gaze upon her, and everything within her told her that she should just turn and run.

There was a sudden grumbling from those assembled. It seemed as if no one present knew what to do with this inexplicable moment. The assembled started to turn, and look at each other. Some formed images of being lost, while others showed a reflection of the blank night sky. And in a recketous din all of the broodlings, with their newfound song, began to form an ocean of wiggly, partially faded images which reflected not on their own confusion, but a lack of skill in the creation of the songs themselves. The effect was a volume of sound so rank, and out of key that she found herself brought to her knees by it. She crumpled to the ground, and began to mewl with a sound that she herself didn't know she could make.

And then came the roar. A sound so stark against the cacophony around her that it shook her to her soul. And all became still. She looked up in surprise to see a crystal clear set of sky blue eyes, larger than her entire fragile frame, staring intently at her. The Eldest was gazing at her with such a fierceness that her heart leapt from her, and in a panic filled to the very brim with all the shame she had ever felt overwhelmed her senses.

She ran.

She ran like the world had come to an end. She ran with all the speed and strength she possessed. And despite the calls and songs from those behind her to stop, she bolted with all the energy she possessed. It was as if every tear she had ever shed was the wind beneath her. She felt as if she had left the core of herself behind, quivering on the platform beneath those haunting magical eyes. And with it, the rainbow within her. And as she ran farther, and faster than she had ever gone, she was consumed by the sorrow of being a coward, and the failure of being the only Dragon without a song.

As she passed into the darkness, and past the old cliff markers which marked the edge of the valley she saw a tall stone relic poking through the landscape. Rimmed by the full moon it looked like a square, hollowed mountain. The stones seemed somehow to perfect (much like those of the centerplace). But they seemed much older, and were damaged and missing in spots. She entered the opening with the last of her strength, and fell to her stomach in a patch of soft grass, her last thought was of knowing she would never sing, and that she was in fact no dragon at all. She begged for the darkness which now overtook her. And when the dreamless, tear stained sleep overtook her, she welcomed with nothingness with open arms. If she was doomed to be silent, so too should the world be.

And there she lay, in a heap, in ruins of stone, her only companion the setting white moon.

She awoke the next morning to the sounds of birds chirping, and the cool clear smell of the grass she had fallen asleep in. In the pit of her stomach she still wore the agony of the embarrassment she had felt the night before. When she attempted to stand she could feel the ache in every muscle. And for the first time, her back left leg seemed to be strained somehow. She had never run so far or fast before. And she felt, with a sense of newfound shame, that straining her legs was something which she deserved.

Gingerly, she used what little strength remained to her to stand, and begin to walk toward a River she had not seen the night before. She realized that, had she continued on with her blind escape, she likely would have stumbled into the water and drowned. She wasn't sure if she felt like it was better that she had found her little patch of grass in the square mountain rather than finding the water.

Putting the thought aside, she hobbled over to the river, and gingerly begant to take a drink. After a moment, she took a deep breath and realized that the sound of drinking was continuing. She looked up sharply and found herself staring at the oddest creature she had ever seen. Its small, green eyes were staring back at her in equal amazement, and there was a look of shock in its round, pink face.

She shot backward, as did the little lanky creature. Both of them, un unison, found their butts planted firmly into opposite side of the bank. Ria was keen to run, but when she looked in panic at the thin frame of the monster, it seemed equally ready to depart. The both blinked at each other and stared across the channel of water. Neither could reach the other in one jump. It would take them both wading across the stream to get to the other. And yet, as Ria felt the need to flee evaporate, this oddly shaped creature seemed to feel the same.

For a moment they simply stared at each other; taking each other's strange appearance in. For her part, Ria thought the thing looked rather shambled together. It had a long mane of fur atop its oddly pink head. And though Ria and it shared similarly shaped mousy ears. The creature seemed to lack any scales. It was covered in something which looked like leaves, drawn together by vines. But the detail was incredibly small. The extra skin seemed to move in the breeze, but was tattered in places. What struck her most was that the color of the covering seemed to be identical to her own scales. They were each the color of the water which now separated them.

Ria opened her mouth to let out a sound of greeting, and then remembered the prior night's events. There was no sound she could make to explain to this creature who she was or why she was there. But the creature seemed to be in the exact same predicament. Try as it might, it couldn't seem to make a sound. It pointed at its throat to show that it couldn't share its song either and Ria raised a claw to her next to show that she felt the same.

And then the most interesting thing happened. A wave of silent laughter overcame both of them. It was as if this lanky thing was in the same state as she. And they both seemed to know it. Ria had met other animals before, and each had a sense of the world. But this odd amalgamation of long, thin limbs and beakless mouth seemed somehow to understand what she had been through.

It took the better part of an hour, but they circled the bank, and met at the head of the river. At first Ria was careful on her approach. But the creature seemed to have no way to defend itself. It simply ran toward her, with another silent laugh and fell upon her, ruffling her mane, and scratching the scales on her neck. Ria had never before felt such warmth from another living thing. And she found it delicious. And they began to roll, and play as she had seen her siblings do. They spent hours running across the top of the bank, and playing made up games, without the need for words or songs. They simply reveled in each other's company.

When her new friend seemed to grow hungry, and Ria realized she too was ravenous, she found a small patch of the berries which the animals had led her too when she was first hatched, and they both ate furiously until, with a wave of uproarious laughter, they looked up to realize that they were each red in the face and hands, stained by the juice of the berries.

But just as the sun began to crest the horizon, there was a sound unlike any Ria had ever heard. It was something like the honk of a goose, but spread out over several long seconds. The creature seemed to have a meaning associated with the noise, because she looked hurried, and suddenly upset. Ria, following in tow, traced her earlier path from the night before and the pair found themselves in the hollowed stone arches of the broken square mountain.

From beneath a large stone, just to the left of where Ria's imprint from the night before was, the creature removed (with both of it's long, wiggly claws) a sort of hollow stone, which appeared to be made of wood. Inside of it was an assortment of seemingly random things. There were bits of sea shells, something that looked like white leaves with black dots on it, a dried flower, and a broken pointed bit of metal that seemed as odd and artificial as the place they now found themselves in. Beneath them all however, her lanky friend produced a long, thin wooden tube that seemed to be filled with holes.

Carefully, her companion hid away her treasures again, and placed one long soft talon in front of her still read, beakless mouth, and made a shushing sound. Ria instinctively nodded. Her friend pulled the long reed to her lips and began to blow gently. And something incredible happened. From the reed came a song which Ria could see. As the girl stopped blowing, Ria nudged her with her head to keep going. The creature, looking over its shoulder, obliged, placing one finger after another over the holes in the hollow wooden tube, and the song continued. In it, Ria could see a this creatures entire life. There were many others just like her. She seemed, like her newfound dragon friend, to be a fledgeling. But it seemed that, as the song grew sullen, she had been exposed to fire which she couldn't actually breath, and her voice had somehow been taken.

Ria's eyes suddenly welled up with tears. She stuck her head to her friend's throat and began to purr as best she could. From her came a sound much like the crumpled noise she had made the night before. But as she made the sound her companion matched it on the reed, and suddenly they were making a mellowed melody. Ria blinked. It wasn't singing, per se. But she could see the girl's pain seemed to lessen in the song. It wasn't a melody, but it was proof that she wasn't useless. She had made music with this strange loving creature.

The loud crow once again sounded, and her friend stood sharply, gesturing for Ria to stay low. She made a face which Ria now recognized as a smile, tucked the wooden reed into her second skin, stroked Ria one last time and ran toward the sound, looking back only once as she crested the horizon, and then disappeared from sight.

Ria blinked tears from her eyes, which she hadn't realized were falling, and turned toward the centerplace. She knew that, if she could at least show the Eldest that she could crow then they would have to accept that she had a song. Even if it was barely a sound.

Her steps carried her for several hours. When she marched defiantly back into the Valley's center there was naught but silence. In sudden fear, it looked as if everyone had left the greenlands. She realized that she might be truly alone.

But as she neared the old stones, Enrys came suddenly into sight. She was still atop her perch in the center stones, and was singing of searching and finding. Ria realized that they must all be unsure of what was to be done to find her.

A sudden pang of guilt overcame her. She was ready to flee again, but steeled herself and walked the path up to the top of the stones. When she came into view everyone suddenly hushed all at once. And even Tok seemed relieved to see her. Without halting her pace, Ria stood atop the now silent stone platform. At first nothing happened, save for the stares of those gathered from the night before. But after a moment, rising from the Rune Stone, once again came the giant presence of the Eldest Mother.

Definitely, Ria began to make her crow, but faltered. The Eldest reached a claw down toward her and Ria flinched but held her ground. As the Eldest touched her throat, much as she had touched that of her lanky companion hours prior the sound came stronger. And Ria's crow shot forward from her in endless rays of sound, and harmony. So enormous was the power of it that the centerplace filled with all of the images of pain, and anguish she had ever experienced. A mournful cry suddenly arose from those gathered around the ancient stones, and Ria realized they were harmonizing with her. As she looked on, the images of what had happened at the river gave way to new images, of Ria, but with rainbow feathers jutting from her long, thin frame, and sticking out of her round, mousy ears.

She looked up with sudden understanding as the claw of the Elder retracted. Ria had never been an outcast. She had never been wrong. And it had never been that she couldn't sing. It was that Ria had never needed any of what the other's had needed. Hers was a path all her own. A path shared by the Eldest among them.

For the first time Ria knew that her song was the song of all Dragons. And she, would be the one to carry the tales of all Dragons one day.

And she sang, with her whole heart. And all present heard her; all saw her. All knew that Ria was one with the song, and the song was one with her.