A woman's scream, a deafening roar, the sound of fire and an army's battle cry tore at a small infant's ears as he struggled to find his mother. He had just come into this world, didn't even have a name, and already he questioned if it was his time to leave it. The sound of hooves trampling around him caused him to back up into something cold. He turned to look, but the bright blinding light and the scorching heat of the fits made him look away. He took a step forward, but ran directly into a metal bar. No sooner did he realize he was captured, he was hoisted into the air and thrown into the back of a wagon. He tried to break free, but the metal bars of his confinement held him at bay. He cried to his mother, only with the response of a loud, death bearing roar, when a smell so acrid and toxic wafted to his nose, he nearly feinted.
Surrounded by him were more cages, each containing infants just like him, only different in color, shape, and size. Several stared back at him with whimpers and whines; others looked to be sleeping, as if they'd been sleeping for moons. The wet stickiness of blood was cashed into their skin, and he soon felt it on his feet. He knew that they were dead. Emotions raced through his mind. Anger, hate, sadness, confusion, remorse, sorrow, and mostly fear, all caused him to shrivel up and die inside. His life as he knew it, as little as it had begun, was now and forever going to change. He sat in the corner of the cage, holding to himself, and closed his eyes, paying that somehow he would make it through.
* * * * * * * *
Days had passed since he was separated from his mother. He didn't know if she was alive or dead, but he could only hold on to the hope that she was coming for him. The other ones had remained silent, and in the light, he could tell they were slightly older. He gathered that they had been here before him just days before, and the ones who were dead, possibly months.
The weather was unbearable. Blistering, cold wings swirled through their cages as snow drifts offered only the minimum of protection. The men, or rather murderers, were silent themselves. None of them talked to each other unless commanding something, and they never removed their thick hooded furs. The man driving the wagon was hunched, as if nothing in the world could excite his attention. They rode rather fast, circling a mountain oath dangerously close to the edge. Most of the men hugged the cliff wall, but this driver feared nothing.
The shouts of men ahead caught his attention rather quickly though. A low rumbling shifted little handfuls of snow from the cliff-side. Men hugging the wall hugged it tighter, but the driver went on, faster than ever. The rumbling became louder and louder, until a massive wave of snow crashed over the cliff-top. The roar of the massive avalanche drilled into each mind as if speaking the death of a thousand souls before hurling itself into the wagon, plunging it over the edge of the path. The tiny squeals and yelps of the other dragons were muffled and scattered, many simply cut off.
Yet the no-name went crashing down, squealing like a newborn ready to feed, and was tossed to the side out I'd the avalanche's path. His cage slammed into a pine tree, and his body was thrown into a dead stop, jarring his body and reverting him unconscious.
