The obsidian stone lay among dozens of others. Not obsidian, of course, but other gemstones, glittering their rainbow colors; and rocks, sparkling in myriad hues. A ruby close by offered sanguine riches, a rose-light glowing over the mica on a pebble, which in turn sent Monoceros' light sparking and dancing among the stones like a rather misplaced disco ball. Another of the jewels--large, translucent, and aqua-blue--gave off a constant, soft singing sound; and others gave off very real light, rather than simply reflecting it.
But of all the treasures in the hoard, only one was moving today. It twitched; it cracked. And when a piece of smooth, sleek black rock fell away at last, and liquid flowed forth to darken the dusty rock beneath, the other gems didn't take notice.
This was because they were rocks.
A small, wet bundle, all soaked fur and wrapping wing-leather, tumbled forth. It didn't fall, it just sort of plopped forward as the stone at last gave, and for a moment it lay cooling, steaming and silent, in the heat.
Then it opened round eyes, which blinked like glowing embers--and let out a tiny
Crack.
Dread lifted his head, blinking his own ember eyes, turning and peering around. Behind his massive black scales lay his hoard, and one of his hoard was... breaking?
Wings shuffled rapidly as realization kicked in. The chrysalis! He'd given Asimona two children; and the black cat had given him one, too. And, apparently, it was time.
Dread craned his head forward, blinking and sniffing, as the tiny form tumbled forth; a little wet "splat" and a tiny, confused, high-pitched sound had him rather baffled.
Yes, okay, so he'd made a child with a house-cat. But somehow he'd still expected something-... bigger. This creature was not even the size of one of his own talons; though then again, he'd been miniscule at his hatching, too. Still--did it matter? It was his child--his alone; and he hastened to introduce himself to it, and to (like the dragon that he was) immediately lay his claim.
"HELLO," he huffed, and immediately realized (for once) that he was too damn loud, particularly for a... a kitten. A kitten? He inspected it, briefly--it had wings, and a pointy tail, and tiny, nub-like horns. ...Kitten? Dragon..? Kitten-dragon? "I AM--I am Dread. You are my child."
There. Claim successfully laid. Dread then paused, nonplussed.
Err. What comes next?
Bug stared up.
The thing was huge, but it was the first creature--the first thing at all--she had ever seen. It was loud, and her tiny ears flattened back in the warm gust of his words. When he stopped, she relaxed her squint and stared up at him.
And then, very tentatively, she toddled forth: and reached up one tiny paw to bat him on the snout.
Within a heartbeat she was tumbling around on her back, swatting clumsily at the massive dragon's nose, blinking against the brightness of the light and trying her best to play with him.
Dread blinked, drawing back just a bit as the kitten's paws patted all over his hard-beaked snout. He wasn't sure what this was all about, but the child did not seem frightened. This was good, at least.
Then Dread--paws dipping into one of his nostrils--reared back and sneezed, so loudly that the newly-hatched dragon kitten was scurrying, puffed like a tumbleweed, back behind his hoard.
"I SNEEZED," he explained, loudly, peering after her. "I am not going to bite you! Or set you on fire," he amended. "I have to teach you things."
Dread paused, thinking. When he began to speak, the kitten's face was peering out at him from behind the stones, half-frightened and half-curious.
"You must hunt to eat, so you kill things that cannot speak, and eat them. There is magic, and you do this. And if someone gives you a thing, you say THANK YOU." The black dragon paused. That was, as far as he could tell, the extent of his parental responsibilities complete.
Job well done.
Oh-... He should probably guard her, for awhile, as well. "Are you hungry?" he asked, after a moment's thought.
As her father spoke, Bug toddled forward bit by bit. One tiny, unsteady paw after another, uncertainly-placed, brought her closer to him again.
He spoke, his words whirling past her newborn brain, but some stuck with her and echoed there, resonating.
The chiming had become more quiet. Only a bit, but she realized it with sudden apprehension, and bounded back to the singing crystal. She'd incubated by its side, with its music suffusing her chrysalis, and things felt strange--wrong--when it wasn't so close and reassuring.
The dragon kitten sniffed around, then began to bound here and there, pouncing onto stray bits of smelly charred bone or wisps of feather and fur.
Dread debated, for a moment, taking the kitten with him. Surely if he planted her on his head and went hunting, he could quickly teach her how to survive?
But a rare spark of common sense flickered through him, and imagery of the kitten tumbling helplessly away into the harsh winds and... well, the long fall and the short drop at the bottom, gave him pause.
"Magic," he agreed, at first; and briefly thought over what sort of magic he could do. AHH-! Realization struck. Two birds, one stone, all of that.
The dragon concentrated, for a moment; a bunch of perfectly-ripe, bright yellow bananas appeared with a quiet thwap atop the dusty stone. Dread peered at them, noting their slight brown spots that declared how deliciously ripe they'd be. And the odor, sweet, wafting from them--it was perfect. Carefully, gently nudging back the too-curious kitten, he used teeth and talons to split their skins. "That is magic. AND FOOD. Eat that," he added--but covered it, for a moment, staring hard at Bug.
"But FIRST. SAY THANK YOU." He paused, waiting for her words, before continuing. "GOOD. I will go hunt! You will stay here. Do not jump off! You will fall and maybe die. Eat, sleep, wait. I will come back."
Bug flinched as Dread's snout lightly pushed her away from the bananas. But the strong, sweet scent drew her as he split their skins. She could sense, instinctively, that this wasn't the sort of food she would normally like. But magic-!
She didn't notice Dread shuffling away, unfurling his wings, and dropping from the ledge; she only noticed her meal, and how delicious it actually was.
When Dread returned some half an hour later, a small, once-crippled cave deer dead in his talons, he found Bug asleep.
Not just asleep, though; she was upside-down, flat on her back, her black wings splayed out to either side and her belly distended with food. For a moment, the dragon felt a spike of fear--was she dead, too, like the deer?! But a nudge with his snout earned him a quiet mewl and a few sleeping swats of tiny paws.
His eyes shifted to the bananas. She'd eaten... well, it was hard to tell, given that the remains were a pile of trampled mush. But obviously she'd eaten too much. The dragon sighed, and turned, dismembering and consuming most of the deer, himself, leaving pieces piled neatly for their meal once she awoke.
He knew he'd have to carry her down to the water; he himself had hatched in Fornax (and he was wondering, in a vague sort of way, if he should have brought Bug's stone there--though it had fused to the ledge here far too quickly, really). But Monoceros was dry, and he'd have to move her down to the river fairly frequently, and watch to be sure that she didn't fall into its turbulent waters. One of the trickling creeks might have been a better bet, but the dragon found it hard to maneuver in the narrower canyons.
For now-...
The dragon hesitated. Moving such a tiny creature was a dangerous prospect, with his size. He might lose his balance, or accidentally harm her with his claws or teeth... Instead, Dread hauled himself off into his hoard.
He then turned, using the space to carefully maneuver around Bug, curling his massive body around the tiny kitten until her miniscule form--and her bananas--were entirely enveloped by the bend of his neck, the length of his tail, and the leathery, shaded shelter of his massive wings.
Yes-... this seemed right.
Dread let out a sigh, feeling oddly... contented, really. He'd get to know Bug more once she woke--but for now, it was obviously (the kitten had decreed, in his absence) time to sleep.
When she woke, it was to a loud (yet somehow quiet), rhythmic rush of air. Everything had gone quite dark, and pleasantly warm, and smelling faintly of blood and more strongly of ash. It took her a moment to realize that she was just about engulfed by Dread's form, and that the rush of air was his steady, sleeping breathing.
She wriggled free--not difficult what with her size, but confusing with his. She wasn't quite sure what was a foot, or a haunch or a wing, but eventually she had clambered high enough to conquer Mount Dread, trotting (and sometimes tumbling with a new kitten's clumsiness) across his spined back.
Her stomach was still pleasantly full--maybe a little too full; she wasn't familiar enough yet with the passage of time to know that she had napped perhaps an hour or two. All she knew, with the enthusiasm of new youth, was that she was AWAKE now, and it was time to play.
Bug bounded along his back, looking around and down over the edge from her vantage point. She could see the distant swirls of the storm, though she knew not what it was. She could see the cave stretched out before her, and to Bug, this was the whole wide world. She could see, too, the dips of the Gorge and the serpentine paths its ravines took.
Every stray wisp of wind, every toss of dust and quiver of the dragon's sleeping spines, caught her fluttering attention and sent her from game to game like a cheerful butterfly. One moment she was staring down, whiskers quivering; the next she was dancing around one side of the dragon's spines, batting at them playfully.
Dread woke, eventually, with a grumble. He knew she was there--her dainty paws were tapping away, up and down, along his scales. He shifted a little, lifting his head to half peer back at her, and sighed.
"You are like a tiny bug," he informed her, and then nodded to the meat he'd retrieved. "There is more food. And when you are thirsty, tell me, and I will bring you to water. And when we are on the ground, I will teach you to fly!" Assuming her wings were big enough, that was; they didn't seem it... Surely his had been larger, upon his hatching?
Well, they'd find out soon enough. "But never go far from me, little Bug," he told her, faint affection making its way into his half-amused tone. "You are small and would be easy to lose." And again, a fatherly instinct--if distant; the horror of a potentially lost child. He wasn't the best parent, or wouldn't be, but that, at least, was present. If not... well-defined, anyway.
He pushed that away as other, more practical considerations struck him. "...IF YOU MUST PEE AND POOP do it where I can clean it! Or tell me and I will take you down," he added. It didn't really strike him that kitten poo was probably tiny. He just knew that if he crapped where he ate (and slept) he'd not have a den for very long.