Book One: Onnu and Pannu

Broodsibs

Onnu, meanwhile, learned from the different Watchers in both Holds that there were, indeed, three distinct Charon. One was really big, even for a Charon. That was the one she'd spoken to, so he was Michael. The next largest was also the darkest. When she observed him Above, she saw what looked like whale shark spotting. Funny that she'd never noticed before. When that Charon flew over, she politely asked his name.
   Gabriel, the Charon replied. He was so thrilled to have someone to talk to, he chattered the whole night, and Onnu was exhausted, come morning. She couldn't even tell anyone why she was so tired, because who would believe her?
   No one but Pannu, and perhaps Dragonfriend. She might even confide in Firmen.
   The smallest Charon must be David, then, she thought. She introduced herself to him when it was his turn to feed on their debris.
   David was the least talkative of the broodsibs. He grunted, and passed on without further comment. An acknowledgement was all she got. So, if nothing else, that reticence would differentiate him from his broodsibs.
   She wasn't sure that they had genders, per se, but since they'd taken male names, she naturally thought of them in masculine terms. She supposed it was better than saying "it". All the same, she asked Michael when he passed over if that was okay.

   We are not arranged in male/female anatomy, but if you perceive us as male, that will do. I prefer any gender over "it". You see us as individuals. This is good. We are not monsters, or inanimate forces.

   You are inevitable, though, she thought at him. The others fear you.

   They are right to do so, Michael mused. He seemed to be the philosophical broodsib. I think you expect sadness, but it is the nature of life. We must eat. There is no other to do what we do. It is not evil.

   Oh, I figured that out pretty quickly,  she assured him. Where we came from, there were these horrid little things called bugs. I much prefer you three to bugs! She laughed as quietly as she could. You can't sneak out from under a rock, or hide in my food.

   She thought the sound she heard was supposed to be laughter. The voice in her head was certainly cheerful after that. But she wasn't entirely sure she could have adequately described the visceral experience of a Charon laugh to anyone who wasn't there.
   And none of the others ever wanted to hear it again.
   Onnu disagreed on a moral standpoint, but it was a very unnerving sound!
   She debated telling them what it was, to reassure them, but that would involve disclosing their conversations. If she did that, then the littles would expect her to intercede on their behalf, if they were going to be eaten. As far as nabbing them out of the air, she most certainly would, but she couldn't very well ask a hungry creature not to eat someone that was nearly in his mouth. Besides, by the time she alerted them to the kin in the way, if she couldn't save them, the Charon wouldn't be able to react in time to cease feeding.
   She did feel bad, of course, but as she'd told Michael, their feeding was inevitable. It was also necessary, to keep the planets from stagnating. She suspected that they must sweat, or have some way of letting nutrients fall planetside after use, else how would plants grow? The other animals didn't eliminate waste everywhere, and anything solid was sucked up along with everything else. How, then, did life flourish, if the Charon didn't release what they'd digested somehow?
   No, she decided, there had to be some method they just didn't see yet. Perhaps it was sweat that slowly drifted to the ground as minute particles. Maybe they urinated somewhere, and the runoff joined their waterways. Maybe it was something from space that fell to the ground in ways they didn't have a way of observing.
   The point was, she couldn't know, and it wasn't in her "need to know" storage banks. She supposed she could ask the Nomad if he had seen the answer to her question, whenever he wandered their way again.
   She thought about telling the other dragons about the Charon broodsibs, but what if they couldn't talk to them, too? Again, that fear of jealousy arose. She tried to make them feel like her equals, in everything except size. If they knew the things she could, and would do, that they couldn't--and maybe wouldn't--she was afraid they would envy her position.
   Onnu wouldn't envy herself, were she another. Yes, she had more abilities, but an equal number of responsibilities. She would live longer than they would, which meant... She tried not to think about it, but that meant that she would watch everyone who made Crossing die. All of them. Maybe even her children, though she wasn't sure about that.
   The only reason I can think of, for why He wouldn't tell me how long the three of us will live is... If the answer is "yes", colloquially. If we will never die. Well, not by aging, anyway. I'm sure the Charon can eat us; we aren't that big! So, perhaps I will live forever.

   The idea sat upon her mind heavily, a weight she didn't want to acknowledge. As a human, she'd never wanted eternal life. The idea was abhorrent. Sure, maybe as a dragon, she wouldn't lose her everliving mind. Maybe she was built for it. But living that long... Wouldn't she get bored? Restless? Would she grow to hate the worlds she lived upon?
   Her hope was that instead of forever, perhaps they three would live a thousand years for every normal dragon's hundred. That, she thought, was still far too long, but at least there was the promise of rest at the end of it.
   But she didn't know, and He didn't seem keen on telling her. Maybe ever.