ORIGIN

The black dragon let out a shrieking, short roar of delight. Now this was good! He leaned down, sniffing excitedly over the green round gem. Delight sparked in his ember eyes, and he lifted them happily, almost childlike, to watch Glory.

Another gem, in a tunnel? This was too good!

"Good!" he cried excitedly, completely forgetting the "please" and "thank you" manners White had taught him, in his enthusiasm. "Show! I come!"

He could help, certainly! He could move ANY shiny, and get it back here! Because shinies were great! Tail lashing, almost cat-like, in his joy, he waited--bright eyes fixed on the eagle before him.

He almost, almost, seemed to be smiling.

Dread listened closely--or tried to. His ember eyes were fixed on the beautiful green gem, and he almost didn't notice when Glory took flight.

He heard the rustle of feathers, and jerked his head up, glancing sharply after the eagle; with a protesting squawk, only now registering what Glory had said, he followed.

He leapt outward as well, wings spreading and billowing as they harshly caught the wind, his takeoff anything but graceful. With another shrieking roar he banked, pursing, following his friendly bird-guide to whatever shinies lay ahead.

The dragon came crashing in, tail lashing as he smashed down into the den. He was too cheerful to care about the clawmarks one foot left torn into the stone, or the plume of dust that left him wheezing. No! He had a giant, singing crystal in one foot--courtesy of Glory--and it was his new pride and joy.

He opened his jaws, spitting out a smaller, imperfect red stone--but still pretty, still worth adding to his hoard. And then he hauled his foot forward and inspected his new favorite: the big, gently-chiming thing that the eagle had found him.

It was... It was perfect. And he'd even remembered to say thank you!

He turned his head this way and that, his ember gaze rapt. He had so many shiny stones--with metallic flecks, or of brilliant colors--and so many Baubled ones that gave off light. But this was the first that gave off sound. Were there others, out there? Perhaps stones that were warm to the touch, or tasted good..? Were there treasures for all the senses?!

Dread slowly curled up, his full attention now on his hoard, tail slowly sweeping to and fro to one side of his face as he gazed upon (and listened to) his trove, entranced.

The dragon was full-sized, by now; his growth had slowed to a crawl, and his massive bulk found even this ledge a little too small.

A grumble; a sweep of his tail. The vocalizations now were a deep and rumbling bass, and he could feel it in the rock beneath, vibrating; he let out another groaning sigh, just to revel in the power of his own voice.

He was not so hungry as much, anymore--but when he was, he needed big meals. And right now, he was hungry. The growling of his stomach echoed his voice, and at length he raised his muscled neck, and shook himself. The spines along his backbone rattled, and he yawned, fangs glinting in Monoceros' orb-light.

Dread hauled himself to the edge, black scales dusty, and looked down.

The Twister was spinning, as always, its deafening howls just far off enough that he could listen for prey--but there was nothing. There never was, not this close, and the Gorge was now dangerous for him. When he'd been younger he could dive in, nimbly darting in and out of the canyon's trenches, diving and sweeping on smaller prey. Now, he risked crashing into the ledges and outcrops along its length, and becoming trapped down there, or even injuring himself in the fall.

With a grunt he shoved himself off his ledge and fell, wings spreading, billowing and catching the warm air. Joy thrilled through him as his wingbeats lifted him to soar on the updraft. A deep, echoing screech of a roar ripped from his gullet, echoing through the canyons.

The dragon was on the hunt again.

Broad wings banked, spike-tail lashing behind him as he began to soar over Monoceros. His ember eyes were pointed down, sharply watching for movement, for prey. There was a startle of black bats, hurtling away in a tumbling cloud from his approach, but he ignored these--some were sick, and that made him sick, and he hadn't liked that one bit.

Instead he kept on, until he was skirting the twister, feeling its warm tug at his wings. He glanced toward it and turned a little away, a few beats of his powerful wings taking him lower and down over the trenches. Gnarled trees flashed by below, little pools of water at the bottom of the canyons, and--there!

A cave deer was racing away, its tawny hide flashing in the light above. Dread was too fast, overshooting before he could react, and he again banked hard to turn and come around again. He could see it--there, dodging among the stones and roots of the Trench's floor. Heat welled up in his gut and he took a breath, feeling the bellows of his stomach and the roil of his magic combine.

A blast of flame shot forth and down. He'd wanted to fill the trenches with fire, so that as he passed over it wholly engulfed the deer--but the stream of fire was thinner, more focused but far less damaging. Still, it hit its mark, a screaming bleat from below and a tumble on the stones audible as the dragon lifted up and past. He was still far too swift in the air to match a cave deer's speed, and so he turned again, this time slowing and coming down feet-first to land at the edge of the gorge.

Hawklike eyes peered down from his reptilian face, and he could see, now, the tumbled-over shape fifty yards or so up the trench, black smoke billowing from it. He could scent burning hair, and the bleating had stopped; he hauled himself quickly over to it.

The dragon's bulk shoved down into the canyon, pushing aside a half-dead tree and squeezing between rock outcrops as he made his way to his prey.

Dead, and fairly charred--good. He picked this up in his jaws and climbed back out, slipping on the dusty stone a few times as he made his way back up.

He'd take this back to his den, and he'd feed; it'd be enough of a meal for him, if barely.