The Blackfang Tragedy

Chapter 1 - Home Away from Home

       The next thing the whelp could remember was someone shaking him, calling out his name. He faintly remembers waking to the news that his mother had passed away. His cloudy memory leads him down the road of sadness, but his sister, Snow, was comforting him. He remembered other dragons being there too. His father. His brothers and sisters. His eldest sister Alicia. He remembered them all, some more than others.

       Most of them were in their human forms, especially his father. The whelp could remember his father more than his other brothers and sisters. More than Alicia. The whelp knew the cause of some of his fear. To the small and mainly helpless runt of the family, his father had been the most scary thing besides his nightmares that he'd ever seen back then. His father's human form was tall and wore dark clothing. To the whelp it always seemed like his father was always disappointed or hateful every time the two would catch eachother's eye. His father's natural draconic body was more frightful, due to the size. The whelp doesn't remember much about his father's natural body, because he'd never seen it too often.

       But the whelp does remember the pain. The lessons. The whelp failed to match up to his father's standards, no matter how hard the whelp tried. The whelp would not hunt when instructed to, because the young whelp couldn't find it in his young heart to kill an innocent creature. He remembered his father's rage. He remembers running to Snow. Always to her. He'd always shake, shake so viciously after one of his father's angry bouts about how the small whelp couldn't even do simple tasks. Snow would always hug the whelp and tell him that he was okay. That his father didn't mean it and that he was always sorry. The whelp didn't truly believe such a thing, he'd try to the first few times, but was met with the same fits of rage.

       Besides his father, the other most thing he remembered was his sister, Snow. Snow had always been there for him, acting as his older sister, even if he was older. Snow understood that the whelp wasn't truly mentally there, that his mental state didn't match up to his true age. Snow understood and respected the whelp and tried to take care of him as much as she could. She'd always call his name gently. His real name. The name the whelp didn't remember too well. It'd been so long since anyone had used that name.

       When the whelp had run away, the only guilt he felt was for leaving Snow and Alicia behind. He knew he'd miss them, but he couldn't take his father anymore. The whelp wanted his mother more than anyone else. She'd stop his father from yelling so loudly, from being so rude. But she'd died. The whelp didn't fully understand death, but he knew it meant she'd be gone forever. No matter what. And so he'd finally snapped, running as fast as his small paws could carry him, as his flying skills were not the best. He remembered running through a forest, getting lost. Being afraid. He remembered seeing large animals that had wanted to hurt him. He remembered falling into a large hole in the ground, rolling next to a great tree.

       The crater the big tree was in was beautiful. There were other small trees, their leaves a light shade of red. The grass was a bright green, brighter than the grass back at home. Across from the great tree was a small pond filled with fresh water, lily's floating at the top. The whelp remembers approaching the great tree, looking to see it hollowed, like a small cave. The whelp had gone in the entrance, and had immediately been greeted with the scent of fresh earth. It was slightly dark, but the sunlight from the outside made it lighter than it was in the night.

       Such a beautiful place was where the whelp called home. He couldn't go back to his family, as he didn't want to face the wrath of his father, but this place made him forget. He lay down in the back of the tree's inner sanctum, small draconic body pressed against the bark as he lay there. The calming sounds of the leaves ruffling and the scent of earth calmed the whelp enough to finally put the young thing's panicked body into a nice and cozy sleep.