Lost and Dead - a Wings of Fire FanFiction [Book 1/5 of The Corrupt Continent]

Chapter 4

It was the second day of walking and Frost was starving.

He'd seen a couple of snowshoe hares darting around, but they'd been too fast for him to catch. All they left him with was a bruised wrist from their powerful hind legs and a hungrier stomach.

His wing dragged in the snow, numb and heavy. It hurt too much to fold it, even through the numbness from the cold. Every time it went over a hidden stone a flash of pain shot to his shoulder and Frost had to pause for a moment and grit his teeth.

He was sure he was heading south; the sun rose on his left and set on his right, and the air was slowly, slowly, getting warmer. Every day he hoped to see the long grass of the Moor Kingdom and find Oxen Plough. Then he could get his wing looked after and find Mistral.

Suddenly he heard voices. They were distant – very distant – but they were definitely there.

Or I'm just finally going insane, Frost mused.

The voices came from just up ahead, maybe a few snow hills away. Frost straightened his back and forced his tired, sore body to move faster. Voices meant dragons. Dragons meant civilization. Civilization meant a doctor.

The voices slowly got louder, and it was only a minute later that he could understand their exact words.

"Suns, Hornbill, I fucking told you not to daydream while hunting! Now we've got nothing to eat!" That was definitely a female.

"Sorry, Bee. Suns, anyone would think actual bees were in your ass with that attitude." And a male.

"Watch it, birdie. I'll fucking skin you alive and eat you myself if you keep giving me that bloody snobby talk!"

Frost grinned slightly. He liked this female.

"Okay, okay! I got it! Suns..."

"Now, get back to hunting and for once actually catch something!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going."

There were footsteps. Frost froze as he realized they were coming towards them. What do I do? Hide? Or stay here? Wait, I want to be found. What is wrong with me? Let them find me. I need help.

A greyish MoorWing appeared over the ridge. He had nicks in both his ears. His right horn had been snapped off and a thin scar covered his left eye, leaving it cloudy and blind. The other was pale-yellow, and his muzzle was a bright orange yellow. He looked at Frost in surprise when he saw him.

"Uh, hi?" The MoorWing – Hornbill – said.

"Uh, 'sup?" Frost replied.

"You, uh, you need some help with that wing?"

"Yeah, that would be good."

---

"So, how'd you get your wing all broken and floppy?" Bee leaned towards him, scrutinizing him with her dark eyes.

"I got caught in a snowstorm," Frost said, nibbling at the dripping meat Bee'd given him. It was impaled on a long metal stick that was planted firmly in the ground. It was an odd set-up, but it allowed him to fiddle with his knife, so he didn't mind. "I hit a tree and woke up a couple days north of here."

"Ah, the old Whistle Gully. A small valley with winds strong enough to drag a full-grown elephant high up into the sky." Bee nodded, tearing a strip of fatty meat from her stick. She looked into the distance for a while, chewing slowly.

She had greyish yellow scales with odd deep brown stripes down her back and tail. Her wings were a pale yellow, not unlike that of Hornbill's eyes. An ugly scar ripped across her face, pulling her lip up into a permanent grimace. There was a small notch in her shoulder shaped like a starburst and half of her tail was missing.