Book One: Onnu and Pannu

The Holds

Of course, just because she didn't see anyone, didn't mean there wasn't anyone there. As numerous as they were, it was hard to find a corner big enough for a dragon that didn't have a single kin present. Especially not the biggest dragon anyone had seen.
   "She don't want 'em to see 'er cry," Liam said, moved nearly to tears, himself.
   "Of course not," Maggie snapped. "A girl gets all emotional, people think you're trying to play them or something."
   Stan tsked. "She should've told Dragonfriend, at least. I get her not tellin' the rest of us, but they knew each other 'fore Crossin'. It just don't sit right."
   "But wouldn't he be the one she'd least want to upset?" Maggie retorted. "And also, if he knew, then he'd have to keep the secret from all of us, so then he's double screwed."
   "Damned if you do, damned if you don't," Stan grumbled. "I don't envy her, y'know. No matter what she does, someone's gonna be mad sometime."
   Onnu wanted to be anywhere but the Bowl. The normally cramped quarters felt even more claustrophobic when she felt eyes on her from all sides. She swiped the tears away as surreptitiously as she could and turned back to the crowd.
   "Hey, if you don't mind, I'd like to get some fresh air while you guys talk things over. Does anyone want anything while I'm out?"
   "You should probably check on South Hold on the way," Tandy said.
   "I'd like to do a soil survey of South Hold if you're going," Chet chimed in. "If they're going to settle there, they'll need to know whether they can plant anything, or if they'll need to share Barren Hold's crops."
   And so, life moved on.
   Pannu could fly as high as Onnu, but few had made the connection that he'd also known about Charon. She allowed that omission, as well.
   They could fault her logic, they could be mad at her for lying (and many were), they could even shun her (not many did), but they needed her. Her fire was more reliable, and she was more adept at fending off predators. Pannu was often recruited for transportation; especially after her omission came to light. 
   She did finally take him aside to tell him what fueled their fire, so he could make time to fill his um... gas bladder? They really needed to find names for things. Even without a name, he felt better about his flame issues when he knew how it worked.
   Even if she wasn't a very good... well, the thing was, she didn't consider herself a leader. She didn't even know what to call herself. But what she was good at was being a dragon.
   This epiphany made her want to fly away to a fresh hold and just... be. Just take time to learn what she could do, and stop dealing with Hold politics. She couldn't, because they still hadn't discovered an independent fire source, and the gryphons couldn't carry giants or centaurs outside the Bowl.
   So, while she would love to fly up into the Verse and explore all of the planets, or simply fly around their own, she could not, in good conscience, abandon them. What she could do, however, was help them spread out to the other Holds.
   The holderkin flew with whoever was available, to whichever Hold they hadn't explored yet. If they held grudges, they didn't voice them in her presence. Stan had already voiced his displeasure once, and found that he couldn't say what he would have done in her shoes.
   That reminded him that shoes were things they used to wear, which got him looking at the tenderfoot kin a bit more closely. Sure enough, the elves and littlest ones (they were calling them hobbits and halflings sort of interchangeably) were getting quite dry on the soles of their feet. The dwarves, orcs, ogres, and giants didn't seem to be bothered by the lack of footwear, but even Todd was beginning to have foot problems.
   And so it was that Stan Granite became a cobbler. He'd been Stella's handler for so long, he hadn't noticed that he didn't have a Thing of his own. He played around with grass, the plants that didn't seem to be edible or medicinal, bits of chitin and bark, trying to find a way to ease their discomforts as best he could.
   Dean spent his time split between South Hold and theirs, because as he put it, "those poor pilgrims need fattenin' up somethin' fierce." You always knew which Hold he was at by the smells coming from the clay ovens. No one had yet found a way with sauces, as he had.
   Now, if it was spices you smelled, that was wont to be Greta and Clay. She'd grind whatever bark, plant, or the roots he'd recently discovered, and give it a good sniff. Sometimes, it was her nose that dictated who got to try things first. Other times, Clay would beat her to it. They could be heard amicably bickering over the bowls and spits (which were still sharpened animal bones, until metals could be found), and the kin just knew something tasty was in their future.
   Barren Hold lost its resemblance to its name, and became Farm Hold. South Hold became the pilgrims' permanent home, so some called it Pilgrim Hold.
   Onnu declared the larger, oval dragonhold nearest theirs Egg Hold, though it wasn't egg-shaped. She wouldn't say why, but the majority of the smaller kin looked at the dragons differently. In particular, they eyed her abdomen for signs of growth, and watched their comings and goings.
   Except they were never alone together.
   In their entire time on the planet, no one could think of a single time they'd been unchaperoned, save the day he learned about Charon. Even then, the gillnecks could vouch for them, once the landkin had been introduced to them.
   So could Tan Cutter, who'd been collecting claysand that day. She helped the crafters wherever she could; be it gathering supplies, cutting materials down to size, or ferrying them about. She hadn't heard them talking about Charon that day, but she had seen that they were well settled into a conversation by the time she'd landed. It might not be enough to allay rumors of egg-laying, but it was enough for her. Besides, they hadn't looked like they'd just had... adult fun time.
   They hadn't named all of the holds yet, but for the moment, those four were enough. They grew crops, shifted some of their overflow population to mingle with the pilgrims and help them acclimate, and mined the hard shells on the spires. They found that if they hummed a few bars, with a hand on a spire, a little chunk would fall into their outstretched basketnut, or bowl, or other vessel.
   And for a time, life became somewhat normal again.