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The warmth of the sun spread over Alaine's form as he stretched his full length beneath Aratha's golden eye and let it soak into his itching scales. The remains of his last meal sat heavily in him as he resisted the urge to squirm against the dew wet grass. His scales itched and felt too tight over the back of his shoulders and along his sides. It kept him awake as he rested his chin on his forelegs and idly used the edge of one of his teeth to pick at the edge of his loosened black scales. Or rather, what had once been black. It had turned a sickly grey and crumbled under his probing tooth until the powder fell to either side. He snorted in disgust as he lifted his head and started to lick with powerful strokes of his tongue along the back of his wrist.

The scales should have come away whole and still rich with the minerals that he should have ingested while growing a new set. They would no longer be as strong, but they would have been at least pretty to look upon and proper, not the flaking scales that dried out and were shed and cracked. It itched, it itched so damn much that he felt as if he were going mad. With a growl he twisted his head around and lifted a hind leg so that he could scratch right along the curve of his neck with his talons. They were no longer dull, but sharp as he scraped them over his neck scales and scratched to let the powdered scales fall to the ground and crack to reveal the new growing scales beneath. The feel of his talons was painful, but the moment he tore away the old he reached the sensitive scales beneath and blew out a sound of pleasure.

He had to contort his neck down towards his side, but he was able to carefully itch the scale beneath the old and nearly squirmed in his pleasure. It was sensitive, almost painfully so, but it eased the itching sensation so much he could almost think. He shifted his neck up and carefully began to scratch along the curve of his neck and shoulder so that more of it would fall down to powder on the ground. He wasn't positive this was how it was supposed to be, he could only barely remember his first scales being shed while he was still in the nest, but he did recall his mother grooming him with oil to keep him from itching so terribly. But the knowledge of where to get the oil or how it was gotten was lost, all he could do now was itch and get rid of the old scale as soon as it weakened.

He dropped his hind leg and shook himself out so he could return to crumbling the scales along his legs and felt a savage thrill as the burnished crimson that was revealed beneath. The new scale was soft, not quite perfect, but a red that rivaled the brightest ruby. It was the color that his body should have been all along, but had been hidden beneath neglect and bad diet. Alaine lowered his head and started to lick slowly to groom the new scales, his tongue rasped along the edges as he suppressed the urge to croon to himself. They looked better than he had any right to expect, but that was aided by the fact he had located a hot spring whose waters were rich with alkaline minerals that helped add to the growth of his new scales. Canith had treated him well.

Canith. Canith was a land of plenty that Alaine had never dreamed of seeing. He could not recall the last part of his swim to the island, exhaustion and lack of real food had made him near giddy as he came to the soft white sands and crawled onto them to sleep. But when he awoke he found himself on an island that couldn't have been better suited to his purposes even if he had custom made it. The beaches were smooth and welcoming so he spent several nights curled up in a hole he dug out of them so he could enjoy the heat that it held from the warmth of the day throughout the night. He was loathe to leave the beach and the soft sands that felt so good against his soft scales, but another matter had prevailed against him even before shelter. Food. His hunger had grown into something that pushed his anger aside and his thirst for vengeance until all that was left was the need to fill his stomach.

For the first time in his life he truly hunted as he entered the highlands and the mountains that rose up from the deceptively comfortable shore. He hunted, but not as a dragon, he hunted by luck more then any amount of skill as he took down his first wooly mountain goat and killed with a blow of a paw. The taste of raw warm meat and blood sliding down his throat had been as near to joy as he could imagine. It had filled his stomach and body in a way no other food had compared since his parents had been killed. The blood had been thick and rich enough it clung to his tongue, while the meat melted easily in his mouth and was contrasted by the coarse heavy coat the beast carried. He had eaten the entire thing, horn, hoof, everything. He had licked his talons cleaned and bathed his muzzle as his stomach had become unnaturally distended and swollen.

So started the young drake's life on Canith, with warm welcoming sands and food that was hot with blood and filled his body with the nourishment it was so starved for. Rouro had not been far wrong by his description of the lonely highlands that covered most of the island. In the first few days he had seen not even a whiff of anything other then the goats, a few deer and smaller prey animals. He might have forgotten that any animals existed in the place at all if it hadn't been for the smoke he could see from the top of his chosen peak. Others lived here, but so far away that he felt secure on the towering hill that he claimed as his own. It wasn't quite a mountain, but it was tall and filled with boulders and hard going for anyone who didn't possess for legs. It was what he wanted and needed so he could hunt and gain his strength.

It was to his utter humiliation that he realized he could not hunt as a dragon might. He had no wings to carry him aloft to soar and mark out where the herds were so he could come down in a whipping wind to crack their backs and feast. He was reduced to stealth and luck, with more of the latter then he cared to speak about. He had to learn how to trust the wind and mists of the early morning to befuddle the goats and deer that braved the hill to graze on, only then would he erupt out of it and snatch them up. It shouldn't have worked, he was too large and bulky to really hide, and he was noisy as well, but these animals had never seen a predator his size and they counted on the slope of the mountain to keep them safe.

The smaller wolves and large cats couldn't run down hill quite so well as he could and they ran slowly up hill where the prey bounded. He could run downhill just fine, his larger legs carried him easily as he used his weight and the length of his tail to balance him. It kept him fed, at least. The humiliation of hunting from stalking and pouncing was offset with the feeling of his belly distended and the meat that he was able to gulp down. In those first days he could only eat a goat before he grew somnolent and fell asleep to allow himself to digest, but within a week he was able to take down two and eat them whole with only a bit of drowsiness. It was his life. Eat, sleep, and rise to eat again. His vengeance was put aside in the interest of watching his emaciated frame start to fill out and grow larger on a proper diet.

Alaine might have been happy in the mountains reducing his life to those of an a simple animal. The days that passed were ones that allowed him to feel free of the fear that the elves had forced over his head and even his island of ash had brought about. He learned the scents of the hill side and where to find fresh water to bath and rinse the blood from his scales so he didn't reek like his kills, but also didn't pollute their watersource to move them on. He learned of a place where he could perch on a large boulder and rear up on his haunches to feel the wind whipping past him almost as if he were flying. Yes, he could have been happy living his life on Canith as a beast, but always, always, he was recalled back to himself and what he was. The ache of his wings in the misty morning, the sight of his soft blackened scales being sloughed off, the blunted claws that started to grow sharp, they recalled to him his purpose.

The days had passed and he toyed with the notion of going to see the otterkin when he pulled into port, but his grasp of time was lacking. He had been young when his parents had died, he had not learned the old way of writing into stone, he had not learned how to keep track of the days, and his time in the mines had skewed his view of time to the point that he had no way to judge how much had passed. Nor did he want to go near settlements where elves might linger and wait for him so that they could drag him back to his prison. It was better to remain on his hill and eat until he was strong. It was safer to keep to himself until he was ready to leave. It was better to not dare the world beyond the highlands where the shepherds roamed. He would bide his time until he was stronger and then perhaps he would tentatively explore the rest of Canith.

The idea of seeing what the entire island offered intrigued him. He had not forgotten the otterkin's comments about the elves and that there were other peoples that populated the archipelago. Would there be one close enough to himself that he could gain potential allies? Or would they turn him over to the elves in the hope of garnering some good will with the strange creatures. Both were likely, and he could not allow himself to be caught up in the latter where he might be betrayed. The thoughts left him uneasy and restless despite the fineness of the day about him.

With a shake of his wings he sprawled out on the grass and attempted to ignore his itching scales and sleep. The worst of the itching had subsided into something he could deal with as the dried old scales had been worked away by talon and muzzle both. With a yawn the drake stretched out and closed his eyes, dismissing the worries from his mind for the present. The future would have to look after itself for a time. He needed rest above all other things.

~ ~ * ~ ~

The scent of smoke rose up in a nose prickling wisp that spread over the trees and misted along the trunks where the winds blew it. Alaine muted his rumble of unease as he kept among the thickest portion of the pine trees and kept his belly as close to the ground as he could. He was painfully aware that the glossy red of his scales no longer hid him as easily as his blackened ones once had. They weren't flat and dull, but gleamed with a hint of gold as if the metal had been dusted over him and pearlescent towards the very tips. The only exceptions to those perfections were the marred dark crimson slashes along his back and sides where not even a good diet could make the scars of his former life fade away. It gave him a strange striped and dappled look all along his haunches and shoulders, but even those scales could catch the light and reflect it. It made hunting hard and keeping hidden even harder as he placed his paws carefully in the carpet of pine needles and tried to be as silent as a creature his size could manage.

The drake dropped his entire body into the pine leaves as he saw the faint flicker of the fire that crackled merrily outside of the small hut. Alaine had ventured afield before, he knew these huts were kept by the denizens of Canith who herded tough wooly sheep that took to the highlands readily. He had even found several abandoned ones and had taken the time to carefully pull them apart to examine what he might find in them. This was the first one he had approached from any distance, the first one that had come close enough to the edge of what he considered his territory. The rest he had observed from afar as the sheep were herded by their shepherds and dogs alike. It made his skin crawl to be so near another creature and his stomach turned with uneasiness. He should leave this place and this shepherd to go about his duties. He could move to another part of his hill and be hidden, but....

A longing had started to grow that he had no real control over. It wasn't a need for water or food or rest, but a restive need to do something. Aratha's silver eye had opened and shut twice since he'd arrived here, and he had still not made any attempt to push towards his pledge to send her the ones who had killed his kind. He no longer spoke with her, he no longer whispered her name or prayed for her guidance. She was silent and he had come to accept that silence, but Oron was not. The dark god stirred in his breast with the same white hot feel as his anger. He was a presence that mocked him for his idle ways and hunting grounds, a presence that goaded him to action. He needed to know about the world outside of his territory.

His sharp eyes watched the silly sheep the hill and picked up the dark black and brown shape of the dog that was guarding them. The dog might sense him and alert his master, every moment he stayed in the trees was one that risked being found out before he could make his move. But still he rested and watched the small shelter and waited to see the shepherd come out.

_Coward. Oron will turn his eyes from you as well as Aratha for skulking this way. _ He growled to himself and pushed back up onto all fours to edge forward. _What a fine warrior you are, unable to challenge a single two legged human, a dog and a herd of delicious looking sheep! _

_ _

The drake wrinkled his lips back and took another step as the sound of the crackling fire became sharper and more defined. His dark red nostrils flared while he tasted the air and sampled the scents of something cooking over the fire. He goaded himself, taunted himself, as he stepped forward with his head held low to the ground and instinctively tried to raise his battered wings. He was able to bring them up, but only half the height they should have been, but it was something. His steps started to move faster as his paws slipped over the ground and he watched movement come from the narrow door of the shelter. He broke into a run that crashed the branches beneath him as a figure in a hood came out of the cabin and turned around to snatch up a thin looking branch.

Alaine's vision bled red as he saw the flat featured face, the pale skin and furless mouth and chin regarding him with wide eyes. The elven features were just as delicate and pointed as they had been in all his memories and nightmares. Fury crashed over him and he forgot his nervous fear under the weight of it as the creature startled away from him and made a bolt backwards as if he realized he were no match for the powerful scaled dragon. The drake roared out his challenge and leapt upwards with a powerful shove of his haunches.

_Run! Run, filth! Run so I might savor your flesh with an empty stomach! _ His thoughts were chaotic as the furious barking of the dog grew louder and he swept one of his forepaws out.

It crashed against the cloaked shepherd before he gave a disdainful shake that sent the elf tumbling near the fire. His jaws spread open so his tongue could lash the air as he lunged over his downed foe and tried to spread his wings wide. He pushed his paw down flat against the creatures back and dug his talons into the soft loam as the elf screeched out and struggled. He would not swiftly end his enemy this time, he would enjoy this, toy with it, taunt it, humiliate it as he had been humiliated before his jaws crushed the vulnerable body. Let it take its fear and his name to whatever gods the misbegotten creatures worshiped, for it would be the first of many.

"ROLLI! NO!!!" The creature, the woman, screeched out before a black and brown ball of fur crashed against his forepaw and started snapping wildly.

"SILENCE!" The drake roared and dropped his head to use his muzzle to fling the snarling dog back across the leaves so it yelped out.

"Don't hurt him!" Female, he had captured a female elf. That would not save her.

"I said silence! If it attacks again I will kill it swiftly, a kinder end then you face." Alaine dropped his head to hiss at his captive as she flung out a hand to try and command the dog who lurched up onto his shaky legs.

"Please... I have done nothing.." Her words were stopped in a pained sound as he flexed his toes and flipped her over so her side nearly fell into the fire.

"And neither did I..." The drake snarled down at his victims, but he froze as she huddled down beneath his paw with her cheeks stained with dirt and bits of pine needles. Her eyes were strangely slitted, but his eyes stared at the twin horns that jutted up from her temples. "What are you?!"

He had only seen female elves a handful of times, they normally didn't work in the mines, but served as supervisors when it came to counting the gems that he hauled up. They didn't boast horns, or eyes slit like a goats. The woman stared up at him with a ring of white showing around the edges of her eyes while he tried to pick out something that was familiar. Her ears weren't even properly tapered, they were soft furred and jutted from the sides of her head much like the mountain goats he'd seen. Was it a new sort of elf? A young one? An old one?

"Please.." The female wheezed as his toes contracted tightly around her and the dog started to snarl at him. "Rolli! No! Down!"

"What are you?! Answer me!" The drake snapped the air above her head before the dog slammed into his leg again and the paws tried to find purchase on him. He swung his head to bat the dog out of the way only to have her screech out again. "If you do not answer I will eat it, what are you?!"

"A satyr! I'm a satyr!! Please, I have done nothing!" Her choked voice nearly bleated at him as he blinked down at her in confusion.

KILL HER! His body still thrummed with the edge of violence and rage, he longed to clamp his paws down and see her blood spilling onto the soft ground. He was nearly shaking with it as she trembled under his paw so afraid, so small, so vulnerable. Years of abuse and helplessness made some dark part of him want to enjoy that fear and drink it down. He could be the one in control, he could make her beg and plead as he had once begged and pleaded. And when she was broken he could swallow her whole and savor the sweet life blood coating his throat and bringing him new strength to bear down on others like her. His enraged mind was filled with images so violent that they should have disgusted him, but they only fueled the excitement that held him looming over her nearly ready to rend her apart simply because of that delicious scent of fear.

_Alaine... I am Alaine and I am not one of them. _ The drake forced the thoughts past his anger, but it took an effort that left him feeling dizzy. _She is not an elf. She did not harm me. _

Alaine trembled and drew in a breath before lifting his paw, he did it too fast and sent her tumbling against the ground. Better that she take a bruise from the tumble then stay under his paw when the violent need still rolled beneath his surface. The dog rushed to his mistress and huddled against her as she tried to scramble towards her stick. He ignored her and drew in deep cleansing breaths to try and push the rage away. He kept his eyes locked on her only to take in the chestnut furred legs and cloven hooves that the cloak revealed as she put distance between them. A tight pair of breeches was worn over her upper legs, but they were much like his, designed for a creature on four legs, not two. She was no elf.

"You are not an elf." The drake heard himself speak, but the words were thick and slow. "You are not one of Them."

"No," The satyr dug one her hands into the dogs thick furred neck and started to back away. "There are no elves here."

"I thought you were an elf." He shuddered and tried to push the black mindless rage back inside of him as she took another step back. "I would not have done that if I had known you were not an elf."'

"Do I look like an elf? Does Rolli?" She snapped at him as she carefully edged onto the porch. And Alaine winced as his eyes beheld the swell of her pale belly. She was going to have a clutch. The guilt helped still his mind into something more reasonable. No drake, no matter how maddened, would hurt a dragoness about to clutch. It was unheard of.

"Please, I won't hurt you." He slowly dropped down onto his belly in an attempt not to loom. "I thought you were something you were not. I did not come here to harm you."

"To eat my sheep then? To take my hard work and throw it down your gullet??" The satyr barked out rough laughter. "And kill my Rolli in the process?"

Alaine let his eyes drift to the creatures that were bunched up far up the hill, "They are delicious looking, but no. I saw your fire and came seeking information, that is all." He paused as she kept watching him with suspicious eyes and tried to lower himself a bit further to the ground. "I am Alaine, I am sorry that I had to attack you."

"Had to attack me?" Her eyes narrowed down as she backed away again. "I know what you are, and better you were gone from here. I cannot kill you, perhaps, but I will fight to keep what is mine."

"If you were an elf, I would have to kill you." Alaine couldn't keep the low growl out of his throat. "You looked like one when you turned. I came only for information."

"And why do you hate the elves when you aid them, dragon? Or do your master's keep your leash so short?" The harsh tone of the female made him bristle, but his head jerked up high in the air and his nostrils flared.

"Aid them? I was their slave!" He snapped the words. "I spent my life beneath the ground and at their 'gentle' ministrations, I do not aid them or serve them. And no creature is my master." The last word he said in a low growl that rumbled in his chest.

"Lift your neck." The satyr moved forward and the dog whined anxiously next to her. "Let me see your neck and I will see the truth of it."

Alaine flinched and stepped backwards as her eyes became brighter and more intense. Some dark part of his mind bellowed to kill her now, but her clutch swollen belly soothed the voice so he reared up onto his haunches and lifted his head up. He tilted his muzzle down so he could still watch her as he bared the dark red scales of his neck. Her eyes flicked over him and she took another step forward, and another, with her own hand lifted to touch the base of her throat.

"You're not branded. You truly aren't an Imperial dragon?" The satyrs words were soft as she reached out and nearly touched him, he flinched away from her gesture.

"I do not know what an Imperial dragon is, but I do not serve the elves." He bristled at the suggestion and dropped his forelegs back down so his head was almost directly above her. "Would I have tried to kill you if I believed you to be an elf?"

"Yes, if I was the wrong sort." Her goat like ears flicked back to her head and she reached up until she nearly touched the underside of his jaw. "I am Rowan. I didn't think there were any dragons left that weren't Imperial ones... They were killed out."

"What is an Imperial dragon?" Alaine felt a strange quiver start in his belly as he lowered his head and felt her hand brush his jaw line. The fingers were thick nailed and dark with a hint of fur along the edges, only three fingers and a thumb, not four and a thumb like the elves.

"That.... Is a long story," She stepped back and tucked her arms beneath her cloak. "I need to bring in the sheep before it grows dark. Go back into the pines and I will settle them, and then we will speak."

Alaine blinked his eyes at the sudden emotionless tone he gave her, but nodded his head before stepping backwards. Rolli whined and then growled as he moved, but came to her heel as she turned to go towards the panicked sheep. What had happened to the world he had been born in?

~ ~ * ~ ~

"Canith hasn't seen most of what's going on. We're too scattered, too rocky, too hilly to matter all that much. The people that stay here are like me." Rowan kept her distance from Alaine as she spoke.

The drake tried to make himself seem small, the sight of her rounded belly made the anger quiet and dim away. He tried not to upset her any further, but it was hard when she kept casting nervous looks at him. She had settled down on the porch with her dog lying across her feat. The canine watched him distrustfully as if ready to defend his mistress no matter that the dragon could have snapped him up in one bite. He was forced to be patient and quiet as the satyr seemed to be thinking about what she would say to explain the world to him.

"It happened decades ago, I'm not even sure how long. I only know what I've been told by those who know more or have left the island." She gave a shrug. "The elves are the root of it all, as you know. They're the reason that we've all suffered and why the archipelago has lost so many different peoples in the last few decades."

"Yes, they're conquering it, but why" Alaine couldn't stop himself from hissing out in impatience as the girl seemed to be creeping along the start of the tale.

"Conquering? No, they don't care about our islands. They don't want to rule them, they want nothing to do with them and wouldn't have ever come if it wasn't for the war." The satyr twisted her lips in what looked like a bitter smile. "This is their battle field, chosen by their Heads of State to host the War of the Horse."

"The what?" The drake snapped his jaws and looked around the peaceful Canith as if trying to see any sight of battle. "They did not fight on my home island, they only killed us, enslaved us-"

"Please..." She held up her hand and Rowan gave her head a short shake back and forth. "Just let me tell the story. You can ask questions later. I'll tell you how my grand mother told me."

Aline growled, but nodded his head. Finding it hard not to demand his questions be answered, but he could hold his tongue until the story was at an end.

"There are two countries that ring the archipelago, Tomaia and Slokake. Both countries are ruled by elves that split off from one large country hundreds of years ago. They are ever at odds for one reason or another but decades ago the Tomaians declared war on the Slokake. You see, the Empress of Tomaia believed that her horses were the swiftest, largest and strongest horses that had ever been bred. The King of Slokake took insult by the claim and demanded that they hold a great race that would prove once and for all which country bred the fastest horse. It was a glorious event where both countries came together to make their bets and see which one would bring honor hom with it, but... Things did not go as planned, the Slokakan's horse won, but the Empress believed that they cheated to ensure that their stallion won and demanded that in cheating, they had forfeited their right to be free government...

"Likely, only they know the true story, but the root of it is a horse race where the rulers took exception and it escalated quickly. Within two years they declared war, but elves are a strange race. My grandmother always told me that they were so long lived that they became queer and developed rules of society that I could not even fathom. There are rules on how one might insult another, elaborate rituals for the smallest things. They live so long that they fill their minds with frivolous things and believe their honor is the one thing that they will kill for, fight for. There are histories, supposedly, of wars over far less than a mere race.

"One of the rules was that no warring country could go against one another on their own land. You see, war is a bloody harsh business and they respect their land too much to see it destroyed by marching soldiers and magic run wild. They wanted a battle that was able to utilize all their strengths so each army would stand on equal footing. There, you see? Another one of their queer rules, their battle grounds could not give advantage over one another, they had to use their wits and magic for that. They chose our archipelago because we had so many islands, so many different terrains and so many peoples.

"I don't know how they started, but I know that other islands have been all but destroyed in their war. They use magic to tear up the land and pollute the food stuffs to deny the enemy armies any gain. My grandmother watched Polle fall, she said that the see boiled and it was dragged beneath the ocean with the small battalion of enemy soldiers upon it. They elves didn't destroy it to kill a major force, but they did so because they could. People died there, so many, the last of the dryads died on that island for they could not leave their trees. And so it has continued to decades. This war is one that is fought on our land and they use us to battle, they use us to tax and spend when they do not wish to use their own troops. The more war like species' they drive out or kill because they cannot risk an enemy on another front.

"Our islands are littered with our dead and their own. Our towns are either under martial law or destroyed. The southern lands have opened to us, but they are... cold. Ice and rock, and we are not creatures of such places. Some haven't been able to go due to their own physical limitations, others have simply thought that they could withstand the tide of the war. After all, which one of our grandparents could imagine a war that would continue so long? That would take such an awful toll? It must have been unthinkable for them, but now two generations have lived through the war and known nothing else but what the elves have done to us.

"Now, the battle is fought in bursts, Canith has never suffered under them because we are not a good war ground. Our hills and steep slopes wouldn't do them any good, but there's always the worry that we will see them dock on our shores and demand our goods for their efforts. For now, they fight secretly, spies, traitors, wars on the sea with their navy. For the Slokokan have a navy that could destroy the Tomaians if they went against them properly, but they don't. The Empire has managed to train dragons to serve the Imperial army..."

"HOW? Are they like me? Are they-" Alaine nearly leapt up at the mention of other dragon's, but Rowan gave him a long look.

"I don't know. That's it. I've never seen an Imperial dragon, just heard the stories. They're all branded or tattooed on their necks with their riders coat of arms, because only the nobles ride them-" She started, but the drake didn't heard her. Rage reared up inside of him and his claws tore into the ground. Rowan stiffened and continued on in a hurry as if to stop his outburst. "I do not what they are or what's going on with them, only that they exist. You would have to go to the inner islands to see them yourself. That's the only place that they've really cared about.

"They kill us, Alaine. They use us as soldiers, as fodder, or drive us away to lands that we were never meant to inhabit. Ten years ago there were dozens of satyrs on this mountain, now there is only me. They will not stop, they will not give until one is defeated by the other, and sometimes I doubt they will even stop then." She gave a pained look and stared past him.

"And there is no people here who would tell them to leave? Why did you even allow them here?!" He snapped the questions, even as his mind rolled over the idea that not all of his kind was enslaved. His parents, did they live? Did he dream their death when they had only been captured.

"Don't you understand? We aren't people to them. We don't live long enough, we aren't elves. We're nothing. Our government was nothing. Our way of life is nothing. We are a drop of rain in the bucket of their eternity." She stood up with a slight sway before Rolli heaved up next to her with an anxious whine. "They have magic, near immortality, centuries of practicing the art of war. We were peaceful once. We were happy."

"We were all happy once." Alaine flexed his claws and suppressed the urge to snarl. "I must know if the dragons that serve them can be freed, with them I could-"

"You would be slaughtered. They serve the nobles. I know this much, they will kill anyone that threatens their riders or armies. They are vicious and frightening." Her voice rose up slightly as he flexed his toes and let out a baritone growl deep in his throat.

"Slaughtered?" He turned his head and an unfamiliar rumble pushed out his throat. A rasping laugh broke through his lips in a high pitched wild sound. "Slaughtered?! Of course I will die, but I will do so as a dragon. Not as a refugee, not as a slave, not as a pet."

Alaine heaved himself up onto his haunches and gave his wings a flick back against his sides as he peered down at the Satyr. There were others of his kind out there, somewhere, they served the elves, but they surely must have served them under the same situation he had been forced to serve. Muzzled, beaten, trained. The very idea of his people being ridden set his tail to lashing back and forth. He barely noticed the girl scrambling away from him as he mulled over what she had said. He had known the elves were at war, but to bring it to foreign lands?

"Do you know of any otterkin?" He spoke slowly as a plan began to form in his mind. "Or can you send word to a port?"