~~~

  Wyrmwood watched closely as the commotion around the central pillar seemingly began to escalate.

  A silver wyrm had been seemingly playing in the stone, burrowing through to pop out and into it in playful arches and loops, when it had run straight into an orange scaled drake resting next to the central lava pool inside the hollow pillar.

  To make things worse, silver wyrm’s long limbless form had completely crumpled onto the drake’s wingless lizard form like a vine falling onto a tiger.

  The drake’s angry thrashing at having been disturbed just made the wyrm coil around it more in surprise and confusion. In the mayhem of all that, they’d just been ignored by most of the other dragons that Wyrmwood could see.

  This was strange to Wyrmwood because his draconic nature told him to always face towards anything that gave off a sense of aggression and/or danger.

  While he watched things escalate, he also noticed that the sea amphiptere had shaken itself out of its daze and grumpily flopped, (was it really a fish after all?), back to its pond. It was long enough to be a serpent, yet moved in vertical arched leaps across the ground instead of slithering. Wyrmwood noted that its way of movement was actually pretty similar to how Wyrmwood whip-cracked things with his tail, except the hops were continuous and clearly not used in a way to consolidate or build up energy.

  Wyrmwood didn’t feel superior though, since the sea serpent did, in fact, seem to be able to move much faster than Wyrmwood could. Wyrmwood figured he might have to try out moving like that for himself later.

  The plant dragon had moved back to rest in her little grove, yet unlike most dragons, she had at least half an eye on what was happening in the central pillar… Wyrmwood tried to ignore that she was also blatantly watching him.

  Things took a drastic turn when the tangled up drake had finally had enough and with an angry roar lit itself on fire! Wyrmwood hadn’t even known an animal could do that, dragon or not! Then again, he was still too young to have built up knowledge yet… except for, ah!

  He took a moment to actually sort through some of the deeper draconic inheritance knowledge, doing so on his own for the first time instead of the relevant information just appearing when he needed it like a half-remembered rumor. According to it, drakes having this ability were uncommon, but not exactly rare. Especially if they have a fire affinity.

  Thankfully for the silver wyrm, its scales seemed to easily repel the flames, which made sense if it burrowed through solid stone. Mayflare had off-handedly mentioned once that friction could create a lot of heat. He wondered if things would escalate even further when a sound like a horse roaring echoed through the cave, all the dragons in Wyrmwood’s sight flinching before going completely still.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Can horses even roar? Veronica murmured in the back of his mind, before quickly extending her antennae out as a sense of oppressive power spewed from the central lava pool! It felt almost as powerful as Smith, not in the amount of magic though, but in a different way.

  The central lava pool began to budge as something emerged from under it where the thing had been evidently resting. A massive dragon head loomed out of the lava, the liquid rock sliding off of pure obsidian black scales like water. A mane of deep azure red flowed behind it, the mane’s ends had a blood red accent that made the dragon look naturally malevolent. Like it was burning with an evil fire. Its striking deep purple eyes seemed to scan the entire cavern with a contemptuous gaze.

  Now fully out of the lava pool, it had revealed itself to be an adult quilin. Its tall, muscular legs each ending with sturdy goat hooves.

  The first thing any would notice about the dragon was naturally its size. Dragons at Wyrmwood’s age averaged about the size of a human carriage. This quilin was at least thrice the size! That revelation brought with it the second observation; this dragon was BUILT!

  Each casual movement the quilin made sent a wave of well maintained muscles rippling and flexing just underneath its lustrous black scales. The flexing also revealed a massive scar along its underside.

  It all combined to make two things clear. This was what a dragon at the peak of its life could be… and that the only option all the hatchlings in the cavern had was to obey it.

  Wyrmwood was in such shock, that he nearly hissed at the massive quilin as it began to speak!

  “Quiet down you sniveling whelps!” He bellowed before giving the two tangled dragons a casual kick that sent them flying in Wyrmwood’s direction!

  Wyrmwood and Veronica both threw their halves of his body to the side, just barely managing to dodge as the now very dazed, yet unhurt hatchlings splatted into the mud and slid to a stop.

  “I’m resting for the next war and yet that dastardly pipsqueak Smith dares to put ME in charge of hatchling reject watch!”

  The clearly male dragon raged.

  The plant dragon stomped her foot suddenly, creating a sound like a branch snapping. Then a wave of unfamiliar emotions rolled over Wyrmwood:

  Not rejection. Worry, sorrow, loss. A mother’s despair at being unable to protect her child from the greed and malice of others.

  By the brief feeling of hope in the air, Wyrmwood figured that the other hatchlings had felt all that too.

  In response, the adult quilin just scoffed, not even looking in her direction.

  “So one of you was an unlucky outlier. The rest of you were still abandoned! You would’ve died early in that forest! You are weak!” The dragon continued to rage.

  “The moment you’re all old enough, the beastkin will be shipping you off to who knows where to begin your selective training, where you’ll be trained on what you’ll be forced to do for the rest of your lives. Chosen by them, of course. Look forward to it. It’s all you have, and it’s all you’ll ever know.” The sinister quilin hissed at all of them.

  Though, for some reason, that whole rant felt more like when Mayflare had reminisced about his past. Without any of the cheer, of course, but still. Was this dragon… What was the word? Prodding, pro-, porter-, pojesting?

  He sounds like he’s projecting. Veronica noted quietly.

  Yeah, that!

  “Now quiet down and let me sleep or I’ll break one of your spines.” He huffed before turning back and walking back into the, (apparently quite deep), pond of lava. “It’s bad enough that a dragon like me is being used as a ‘war horse.’ Why do the humanoids always seem to be having another war just a month after their last one?” He grumbled before slipping fully beneath the waves.

  A particular gleam that Wyrmwood noticed in that last moment had him finally realize that even that quilin, the muscular adult dragon, had a collar around his neck.

  ~~~