Yseulte felt very much like an outsider.
A sham, pretending to be something she was not. She belonged in the world of thieves, and murderers, of backstabbers and liars. She didn't deserve belong to this...this honorable family. The word was foreign to her in a way that made her heart ache strangely. It had been doing that a lot lately—and she wished the heart wasn't such a weak, vulnerable organ, and that it didn't feel so much. Everything had been as listless gray as the sea since she first arrived here in the dead of Frostfall. Little happiness was to be found among the residents of the Edge and Yseulte could only stand awkwardly on the outside looking in, experiencing none of the pain and sadness these loyal Edge dwellers suffered daily.
She was moving through the green glades of the forest, enjoying the wane sunlight lacing through the thriving canopy and dappling her back in a swirling array of flickering shadows, vines, and leaves. And perhaps that is when she heard it—the great hum of wings overhead. A draft that was not wind stirred the canopy, murmuring through the leaves and whispering rustling lullabies through the undergrowth. A song she had never heard before reached her ears next, gentle and soft, and yet undeniable powerful and old like the slumbering earth itself. She recalled the sounds of dragon companions, of Lace's Fajira and Torasin's playful Kiba, and silently decided this song and the warble of the companions sounded alike.
Curious, she responded, unknowingly answering the call of their Queen. She emerged from the fringe of the deep green woods to see a small gathering of familiar faces. Lace, her mentor, looking less-strained than the last she had spoken with him. Torasin was there too, he and Kiba both. Her callous heart warmed at the sight of the golden stallion and his companion, for she deeply cherished their newfound friendship. She settled next to him, nipping his shoulder lightly before gazing around at the faces gathered. Her gaze settled on a dark stallion first that lingered near Lace, one whom she had not seen or met before. Not one, but two ink-colored stallions she did not know. And Rishima, of course, the elusive, cunning mare Yseulte had crossed paths with not long ago. And Thor! She had not seen the winged stallion since the night of the bonfires all those many nights ago. Hellena, next, and Yseulte gave a warm glance to the elder mare's way. The Seer had helped her out of a tight spot with two rambunctious children not very long ago.
And next...
Yseulte could only assume this extraordinary beast to be their mysterious queen, stolen away long ago. Yseulte's gaze followed the metallic glitter of smooth scales and jewel-like eyes that burned with a light brighter than the desert sun. Yseulte listened to the proceedings quietly, intently, impressed by the dragon queen's prowess and ability to survive even the most evil of conditions.
Perhaps they shared more in common than Yseulte had initially assumed.
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