Wings of Fire: The Hidden Kingdom | ✔️

~ The Hidden Kingdom: Chapter Three ~

"Enough," the dragon in the diamonds snapped. "Let her go, Deathbringer."

Deathbringer glared at Hare for a little longer, then released her. "Apologies, Your Majesty," he snarled without looking away from Hare.

Snickers came from the surrounding dragons.

"Looks like Princess Greatness's pet is in trouble," someone chuckled.

So her name is Greatness. If that's not the most RainWing-ish name I've ever heard, I don't know what is.

Hare remembered the names of the dragons in the RainWing village; Magnificent, Dazzling, Adoration, Sublime, Dainty. Their names all seemed to compliment them in some way, she wouldn't be surprised if there was a RainWing named Greatness.

Greatness rubbed the ridges above her eyes. "Alright, we need a break. If it's your turn to eat this week, go do that now." She leaned toward the screen again and nodded. "We'll reconvene tonight. The queen says to return at dusk with possible defensive and offensive strategies."

The NightWings began to disperse, most leaving through the holes in the ceiling. As Deathbringer turned to leave, Princess Greatness called to him. "And Deathbringer, next time don't barge into a council meeting unless you're invited."

Deathbringer nodded, then continued on his way out. He glared at Hare as he passed. Hare narrowed her eyes in response.

You won't touch Glory.

Morrowseer headed back down the tunnels. Hare and Starflight followed side-by-side.

"This is odd," Starflight murmured. "Did you pick up on that?"

"On what?" Hare asked.

"What the queen said," Starflight said. " 'If it's your turn to eat this week.' What does that mean?"

"That is odd," Hare muttered. "Perhaps they struggle with prey? All these dragons are really thin."

"That would make sense," Starflight murmured.

Morrowseer took a sharp turn, and Hare saw dim light up ahead. They emerged onto a shelf of rock that jutted from the side of the fortress. Below them was a weird landscape of rocks that looked like giant lumpy gray-black dragon scales with a fiery orange glowing underneath, filling in the cracks.

There weren't any active volcanoes on the mainland of Pyrrhia, so Hare had never bothered learning much about them. It had never occurred to her that the NightWings, who'd written most of the scrolls, might have firsthand knowledge of volcanoes; might, in fact, be living on one.

How in the name of the stars do they survive in this hellscape?

Morrowseer stared across the lava field and inhaled several times, his nostrils flaring and his tongue slithering in and out. He did this for so long that Hare began to wonder if there was something wrong with his nose.

Hare opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, but suddenly he spread his wings and took off into the air. "Let's go," he called.

He led the dragonets toward a tangle of gray, ash-covered trees.

"There's a rotating schedule," Morrowseer rumbled after a minute. Hare and Starflight exchanged a look. He must have heard them. "All NightWings are allowed to hunt and gather food for about five days out of every month. Naturally, I am exempt."

"Naturally?" Starflight said.

"My role in the tribe's future makes me indispensable," Morrowseer told them. "My family and I have been granted permission to hunt whenever we please."

"Your family?" Hare asked.

Morrowseer flicked his tongue. "That's what I said. My girlfriend and dragonet have the same permissions as I do."

"You have a dragonet?" Hare gasped. She'd never imagined Morrowseer as a father.

"A daughter, yes," Morrowseer replied. "Quite the strange little thing. Her mother is always pulling her aside to whisper about something, and it feels as though she knows everything you're thinking." Morrowseer shuddered, showing the first hint of fear that Hare had ever seen in the big dragon.

"How do you hunt here?" Starflight asked. "There can't be much prey on a volcano."

"Those tunnels serve more than one purpose, you know," Morrowseer snorted.

"You steal prey from other territories?" Hare said. "Surely you must see how wrong that is?"

Morrowseer scoffed. "There's no law against it."

Not that you'd follow it even if there was, Hare thought angrily. "If you struggle so much here, why don't you just move somewhere else?"

"Name one part of Pyrrhia that hasn't already been claimed," Morrowseer spat.

"So have a meeting with the other tribes," Hare said. "I'm sure they'd be happy to make arrangements for you."

Morrowseer just snorted again. He suddenly tucked his wings and was arrowing down to a patch of stunted trees not far from the beach.

The older dragon landed with a thud that sent gray dust billowing around his talons and immediately dropped his nose to the ground. With a horrible snorting noise, he charged across the clearing, taking deep breaths and flicking his tongue rapidly in and out.

Hare flew down to land on the ground behind him, watching in confusion. She knew how to hunt, she was good at it. But hunting involved being quiet and not letting your prey know you're there. Morrowseer was making so much noise that Hare was sure they could hear him from the rainforest.

Morrowseer made a guttural, triumphant noise and swiped a leafless bush out of his way. Underneath it was something half dead. It looked like a pile of gray and white feathers as big as a dragon's head. When the giant NightWing hooked one claw in it to drag it out, it let out an awful pathetic squawk.

"So you kill your prey ahead of time?" Hare observed as Morrowseer ran a claw over the bird's throat.

"Obviously," Morrowseer said, prodding it a few more times. Hare spotted a bite on the bird's neck like the one on the dead sloth in the rainforest. It looked infected and disgusting, crawling with insects. Morrowseer ripped off the wings of the bird. "Shouldn't you know this?"

"It's not how we were taught to do things," Hare told him.

Morrowseer eyed her. "Okay then, how do you do things smartclaws?" He tossed each dragonet a wing. "Here, eat these."

Starflight made a gagging sound and covered his snout with his wing. "Uhm, no, thank you. I'm afraid I don't have the correct antibodies to help me eat infected carrion without getting sick. You see, while you may have grown used to it with eating it your whole life, Hare and I are used to eating fresh prey. We haven't adapted ourselves to eating the things you do."

The enormous black dragon had paused midbite and was staring at Starflight with his mouth open.

"Well," he said after a long moment, "that answers that question."

"What question?" Starflight asked.

Morrowseer picked at his teeth with one claw and lashed his tail.

"Now I know who your father is."