The dragons flew high overhead, swirling together and apart again on the warm air. Gwyneverre moved brilliantly, opalescent wings and scales glistening in the sun. Brienne moved swiftly, her golden body gleaming with beauty. Something different had happened with Brienne, she had aged rapidly, and was able to fly nearly overnight. It amazed Abraham, but he dismissed it. He attested it to her golden blood, and the time she had spent inside of her egg. It had been a great task, acquiring her, so it was only right that she age quickly. Nonetheless, the white was still larger, older, wiser. She taught the young gold day in and day out how to survive, thrive, be a good dragon. Abraham was proud of his fierce queens as they soared above him, dancing on the winds as masters of the sky. Soon, he knew, Brienne would be able to breathe something dangerous. Gwyneverre released hellfire from her jaws, but Tinek released ice and lightning. What would Brienne have trapped within her? Abraham mused that it was frost, for she had been trapped in a clutch in the northern tundra. Only time would tell, he knew, but a growing stallion could speculate.

The sun shone down on his inky pelt, the rays warming him through. The darkling prince did not like this land--it was too hot and sticky, and the red sand clung to his feathers relentlessly. He yearned for a calmer climate, something neutral and comfortable. Even the north called to him. Alas, he was here, because this is where Macaria and Reginald were. Abraham was loyal to his blood, and so he stayed. His loyalty did not keep him from wandering, however, and he frequently sought key-holders to release him from the confines of the island. He had wandering bones, like his mother, and their hunger needed to be tended to. Besides, nothing interesting happened here. He had heard on the grapevine the on-goings that had been discussed during the herd meeting. Promotions and nothing that dealt with him, except one thing.

His father had marched to war.

His father had marched to war without him. Without Reginald.

Snorting, Abraham turned his body to march toward the oasis. Gwyneverre and Brienne swooped down from the sky and glided lazily at his side, chirping and trilling to one another.