Dread pursued Alpha, bellowing, unaware that it had been a spar, of sorts, gone wrong. Instead that flameglow color lurched up as he swept up behind the six-legged beast, and flashed out in a torrent of flame.

Three meters of choking, boiling fire poured down over the rocks--to Alpha's right, then to Alpha's left, then just ahead of him (and hopefully Alpha wasn't dumb enough to run through fire). Then, satisfied that Alpha would get this hint (he was already running away, after all) Dread turned and banked back, wings beating, to check on his... his children.

One of whom was on fire, and the other lying on the ground, bloodied.

"BONE! SVARTIS!" he shrieked, dropping in for a hard landing. His head rocked with the sheer force of how heavily he hit the stone. Briefly, he thought of Asimona, wondering how pissed she might be if he got both her children killed. "STOP BEING ON FIRE!" he helpfully shouted at Bone, and to Svartis, he added, "WHAT HAPPENED?"

Bone hit the ground hard, her wailing bellow snapping shut as chest, then jaw, hit the rock. She thrashed this way and that, and then dropped to the ground head-first, onto her side, like a dog rolling, trying to put out the flames.

While her draconic hide provided some protection, her own magic had decreed that she would be harmed, badly, by her unpracticed display. Fire licked over her skin and scales, blackening and searing, opening wounds that would scar her forever. The rolling did not help, and the fire had to run its course, the dragon roaring in pain and lashing her tail out behind her.

It was the most painful thing she'd ever experienced, and when it ended she simply lay on the stone, eyes shut, panting, every single breath and movement an agony.

Blight bobbed slowly after Alpha, his cloud of bacteria not even drawing close. Svartis was... down, and worriedly the tiny dragonling flew over to him. He'd never tried to help anyone before--magically or otherwise--but instinct prompted a new curtain of magic, one that he dropped onto Svartis as he landed lightly beside him.

It was cleansing, purifying, and the little dragon waddled right over to Svartis' head, staring in horror at his wounds.

"Dad-?" he whimpered, worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Fear gripped him, and he looked up at Dread, crying as he spoke. "Dad-Dad, he's bleeding!"

@Svartis

Alpha shrieked and weaved away from the gauntlet of fire at its sides and front in the distance - and nearly barreled through the column shot down in front of it through pure momentum.

_________________

Dread's landing next to him was reassuring, if Bone's fall from grace wasn't. Svartis's head swung heavily, almost like it was on a ball joint, towards his sister, a bout of fine snow (or so he hoped) dancing in the air and heading towards her. His eyes went half-lidded, a slight wince at the usual loudness of his father's voice.

"It -" he began, gaze snapping down to the - Caves, the crying child waddling up. Magic flushed through him, but it wasn't enough to dissuade the tingling sensation starting to prick outwards from his calf.

He put on a brave face, even as he settled down and strained to fold up that leg. "I'm n-ot gonna die, Blight. I'm okay, bud," Svartis murmured, every word a harsh rasp, "now that everybody's here, I'm oh-kay." Twisting his neck, he tried his level best to give the dragonet a light nudge with his nose.

Icy eyes looked back up at Dread, "it wanted to spa-ar with me because of - Vargas? That I beat Vargas in a fi-ight and it got m-mad that I couldn't fight back." Not wanting to say it out loud in front of Blight, he mouthed to Dread: I think it was going to kill me.

@Dread

Dread leaned forward, staring as his son apparently tried to talk, and failed.

There were days not long ago when he'd have bellowed to inform Svartis that he was not, in fact, making sounds; but Dread was a little more wary and angry these days, and it thankfully occurred to him that his child was trying to mouth something to him.

He peered, closely, trying to make it out. (rolling)

But Svartis was well enough, it seemed, to cool Bone with his magic; Dread glanced up at her, eyeing her as she lay on the rock, and then looked back at Svartis. "Neither of you die. I will protect you," he added, and shook himself.

His spines clattered.

He thought about Svartis' story.

"Vargas. I remember it. It wanted to fight me. That was not Vargas--but his child? His child, and my child," Dread mused. He hadn't lost, but his memory of Vargas' long limbs and surprising, frightening size was not lost to him. Advice time, then. "If you fight things, stay high. Use magic. Do not come close or they jump on you and grab you!"

A lesson, it seemed, that had come a bit too late.

Bone lay quiet, for a long moment, focusing on breathing. Her brother's frost had helped her, the drifting snow melting over her but providing a cooling surface across the burns.

They had peeled through her scales, in places, and by the caves, they hurt, but she'd survive. After several long moments--the distant talking of the others muffled against her throbbing heartbeat--she turned and craned her head to peer back over her body.

"Those will scar," she murmured, aloud, and then blinked over to look at Svartis. "Are you all right, brother?" she asked, and then--"Thank you, for the frost. Should we chase that beast that had you-?"

"We" meaning, more, Dread, of course; Bone didn't quite think she was up to flying right now, though she could certainly try, for Svartis' sake.

Blight whimpered, briefly pressing his snout against Svartis' chin--and then he looked over to Bone, who was badly-burnt.

Oh no. Everything was going so... so bad. He'd been so happy with his new Auntie Bone and Dad-Dad and--Dad-... And now this! I should have stayed with Dad, he thought, with a twinge of guilt over having gone off to see what, exactly, a Shiny was. His curiosity had gotten the better of him, there.

He looked down at Svartis. Obviously, Dad was too old to protect himself!

"When I get big," Blight whispered, all solemn and tiny fury, "I'll beat that thing up for you, Dad. I'll protect you."

@Svartis

Svartis was so grateful for his father. So, so grateful. What if they hadn't gotten here in time? Would he have just been dead in this forum, surrounded by the melting remains of his ice?

He blinked and exhaled, dispelling those thoughts with that breath.

"I tried to freeze it," the dragon croaked, "it bit my leg and wouldn't let go when I burned it." Maybe not through traditional means of burning, but he definitely felt where he'd burned himself. "It knew not to le-et me get back in the air." That damn thing had come to class prepared!

Seemingly settled into place for good, Svartis's eyes blinked over to Bone, and he grunted in amusement, "we can match." A wing shifted, showing the bloody, ice-lined holes punched through the leather. "I'll live," he admitted again, sighing, "no, it's - it's strong. It'll hurt Dad."

Blight - bless his little determined heart - was going to fight that beast with all his grown-up might. It touched him, even if he didn't fully believe it. "Maybe we'll beat it up together," he called, a twist of vengeful amusement creasing his eyes in a half smile.

@Dread

Dread made a sound somewhere between a snort and a growl. "Did it use magic? It will not hurt me. I will hurt IT! -But can you fight?" he added, ember eyes flicking over Svartis. "Or can you fly? Back home-?"

As tempted as he was to give chase and consume his son's attacker in fire, he did not want to leave not one, but two helpless adult children here. Bone was burnt, Svartis harmed, neither were really adults yet in his mind; neither were all that strong with their magic as yet.

If that thing circled back behind him, and got to them before he could get back--or if something else came? They might both die. If Svartis confirmed that he could defend himself--or fly back to his own, airbound home den--then, perhaps. Otherwise, he would remain.

"I can fly," Bone offered, after a moment, with a grimace and a twisting flex of one wing. "Not well." She did not say if she could fight, because she didn't know if she could. She'd never been in a fight, before. She'd hunted--she'd swept down to snag Lessers in her claws, and breathed heat over them, but never gouts of flame like Father did. His experience far outmatched her own.

She was reluctant to say if she would be capable.

The white dragon pulled herself more fully upright, and wing-walked--slowly, and wincing--to her brother. "But stay with us, Father. We can hunt that thing together, once we are all well," she urged.