Legends: Buzzard

Please, understand

"What are firescales?" BloodWriter asked Buzzard approached BloodWriter cautiously, his scales shimmering with an intense heat that seemed to emanate danger. He took a deep breath and began to explain the concept of firescales to his fellow NightWing. "Listen, BloodWriter, we need to have a serious talk," Buzzard began. "Firescales are a rare condition that only a few dragons possess, myself included. You see, our scales burn with a deadly heat, making them incredibly dangerous to touch. Even the slightest contact can cause severe burns or worse." Buzzard's voice lowered as he continued, concern etched onto his face. "I need you to understand the gravity of this situation, BloodWriter. If our tribe were to find out about my firescales, I would be labeled as a threat. They would see me as a danger to our community and would likely exile me. That's why it's crucial that you keep this information to yourself. I trust you, but revealing my secret could have dire consequences for both of us."Buzzard's warning hung heavy in the air, the weight of their conversation sinking deep into BloodWriter's thoughts. The NightWing understood the importance of secrecy, not only to protect Buzzard but also to preserve the delicate balance within their tribe. From that day forward, BloodWriter swore to himself that he would guard Buzzard's secret with his life, knowing that the bonds of trust and friendship were far more precious than any potential dangers their secret might bring. As the sun began to set over the dusty desert town, BloodWriter nodded firmly at Buzzard. His gaze then shifted to Buzzard's three brothers huddled together nearby. In a low but resolute voice, BloodWriter spoke,"I give you my word, I will protect all four of you with my life. No harm shall come to any of you so long as I still draw breath.  The four brothers exchanged looks, relief washing over faces weathered by hardship. The eldest, Precipt, stepped forward and extended his hand. "We are grateful for your help, stranger. It seems we are in desperate need of an ally in these parts. BloodWriter shook Precipt's talon firmly. "You can count me as such. Let's get you fellas somewhere safe for the night and we'll figure out our next step come morning. With that, BloodWriter turned and began walking toward the livery stable at the edge of town, the four brothers falling into step behind him. A sense of calm had settled over the group, for the first time in ages. They had an ally-one willing to risk life and limb for strangers in need. In this dusty desert town, that was worth more than gold.