It had taken the dragon the better part of a day to work his way up Tunnel M. It was narrow, it was icy and it was unpleasant, and far too precipitous to tackle on the wing. He'd had to haul himself up ledge by ledge, only using his wings to clamber along when it got too steep to climb with two hind legs. A few times he'd used flames to melt the way, and several times he'd stopped to rest, sides heaving. He was pretty sure a few Gembound had scurried past, probably mistaking him for the large, dark boulders that lined the snow-sheathed tunnel.

He'd come to visit the cave of his birth--to see if it still felt as large now as it had then, to see if it was still as deliciously hot and steaming, as full of tender fish. Monoceros housed his den--so of course he didn't want to be away from it for too long--but Fornax still held a special place in his heart.

The dragon lifted up the moment he was in Fornax, a stumbling run speeding into a slow and heavy takeoff, until he was soaring once more on the updrafts upon which he'd once learned to fly. He let out a delighted bellow, one that echoed through the cave, his tail lashing behind him as he spiralled higher and higher.

Eventually, on the main island far below, the one that sat across a channel from the tunnel entrance, he spotted a group. And at the head of this tiny gathering was a stranger in black--and a table full of shinies. That he could pick out, even from a distance, of course: despite being teensy and very far below, the distant glitter of glass drew him like a moth to a flame.

Down he swept after only a few moments' flight, his hind legs skidding in, claws sending pebbles flying. His body rocked forward, landing again on his winged forelimbs, and he wing-walked rapidly over to stare closely at the glass. He ignored the smaller Gembound, for now, bar a distant sense of urgent jealousy--he had to get whatever this was before they laid claim.

"What is this?" he demanded, covetous and curious both.