Freezing Wings

Chapter 19

I didn't feel like flying all the way up there so I just took the stairs, taking five at a time and kicking up a wind as I ran, a black blur past the doorways. I glanced into Sarah's, seeing her dark grey fledgling working on a piece of pottery while her mate looked on. She nodded at me and I nodded back, quickly moving on.

I made my way up seemingly hundred of flights of stairs, soon making my way through the hallways and into my cave. My cave was at the end of the hall, the closest cave being at least eighty feet below. It took me a good fifteen minutes to get there, but I considered it worth it.

My cave was different than others. Our instincts told us that once we had lived in our parents house for more than two years to automatically move out, and to have our own place. Most rushed to get out, carving out a closet of a cave in a week and having to do renovations later. I didn't do that.

I took out eight months of my time and devoted it completely to creating my own space where I could live until I was old and grey. Mine was about four times the size of most fledgling caves and filled to the gills with everything I wanted.

I only had two bedrooms, one for me and one for guests if need be. I had two storerooms where I kept all of my food and supplies for my work. There was a grand staircase, for when I didn't want to fly, to my workroom and gallery of finished sculptures.

Every room was fully furnished with pelts and places to sit, along with tables and desks if need be. I didn't know what they would like so those stayed empty for now. I had gone all out for my home - everything was made by hand, and the work had paid off. 

Dozens of pelts covered the floors, made out of the skin of various alien creatures. The white aliens, within the small amount of time they inhabited earth, had released foreign animals into the wild, infesting the forest with them. Most had died on the first night from the cold and hungry dragons craving meat. I was one of those dragons. They tasted really good, though a bit tart. I still had leftovers in my storeroom, frozen for later use. 

The few that had survived were near harmless, slugs disguised as furry mammals that generally lazed around the forest. They barely ever attacked and were slow, mostly just waddling around like overgrown half asleep sloths in the shapes of small hills. Although they were slow and as a whole, not very smart, their pelts were the thickest I had ever seen, and had just the right amount of warmth and cold to be best as a rug. Their fur was an icy blue that blended into the snow, and were huge, big enough to serve as a blanket for a full grown dragon, one that topped eighteen feet and was the size of a human house. 

The walls had depictions of trees and dragons, sculpted out of ice and crystals, glowing brightly and illuminating the space. The grand staircase was covered in the skin of a different animal that hadn't survived the first night of slaughter in the forest. It was a sort of lizard, it's skin similar to that of a snakes and a dark navy blue. I used it as a sort of carpet  up to the second floor.

 A pair of couches, the seats stuffed with feathers, gathered around a central coffee table made of black ice, the depiction of a snowflake carved in the center. Two hallways branched off, one leading to my various storerooms, the other leading to my various bedrooms. Glowing crystals brightened the dark corners and gave the room a slightly less dark feel due to the lack of windows, making it all seem just a bit better. 

It wasn't that bad, if I could say so myself. 

I walked in, jogging up the stairs into my workroom. Currently, it was clean and organized to perfection, all of my tools lined up neatly to one side. My desk was clear of all debris and the half-done sculpture was hanging on the wall, the crystals glowing softly. 

The art of sculpting rock and crystals was something that came naturally to all of the dragons, an inbred trait that caused us to automatically have a talent for it and enjoy doing it. When I was human, I could barely make a worm out of clay that didn't look weird, yet now, creating something on par with what was considered a masterpiece wasn't very hard.