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"Not like that! You swim like a dog!" The mocking voice made Alaine bristle as his paws churned in the lake water so he could keep his head above ground.

All around him Otterkin swam and dove beneath the water, they gamboled and played around his large form as he panted with his tongue lolling out from his jaws. He had to kick hard with his hind legs just to keep his head and chest above water. The otters seemed to find it great sport to dive down deep into the lake bed and power themselves up with great sweeps of their rudder like tails so they could leap over his shoulders and back before crashing down into the water. He had swum in the ocean before, and he had always believed that he was doing well, until the Otterkin had shown up and demanded he learn to SWIM.

Rowan had gone to the nearest port, nearly a day away, after extracting a promise that he would not eat any of the hardy sheep that she kept. She didn't trust him, not after the way he'd greeted her, but he'd agreed and even went so far as to snap up a pair of wolves that had been stalking them. It had seemed like forever before she'd come back, but not alone, she'd come with a strange Otterkin that was brawny and rough looking. He'd been suspicious, all the way until he'd seen Alaine sunning himself on a rocky outcropping. The otter introduced himself as Hikon, and eagerly examined every inch of him, much to Alaine's annoyance, he'd even peered into his muzzle to see his teeth. But like Rouro, he seemed more excited to see a dragon instead of afraid. And from there, the summons had been sent out over Canith.

Groups of otters had come to see him, and pry his tale out of him, a fact that made the dragon increasingly aggravated as he felt the press of small beings around him. He didn't like the sensation of having groups around him, it brought his days in the mines back to him until he snapped and snarled. The only person spared his snarling tempers was Rowan. Her pregnant state brought protective instincts that any drake felt at a clutching female. Bit by bit, she thawed to him, and extracted his painful story in detail he had never imagined he would be able to give. It had been painful, at first, but it was the lancing of a wound as he spent one evening high up on the sheep pasture talking with her. He didn't just speak of how he had been maimed and abused, he spoke of his parents to her. He tried to recall what they had been like, looked like, and she had tried to draw more out of him. That had been a turning point between them.

The satyr had a temper, a sharp and suspicious, but she was also kind. She might rebuke him angrily for looking too long at the sheep, accuse him on wanting to take one for a snake, but the next moment she would come to try and ease the ache of his wings for him. There was no telling when her moods would shift, but he tolerated them. The Otterkin would have been snapped up for a snack if they had tried to take him to task, but not the satyr. Only she could talk to him when he had had enough of the otters' eager attempts to talk to him or get him to play their frivolous games. Only she could keep him here when he was ready to storm back into his own territory and leave the small two legged creatures behind. They were boisterous and loud, playful and inquisitive, everything that he was not.

He didn't understand their games, the way that they chased each other on a whim or snagged a pebble and chased each other around trying to claim it. He didn't see the point of it, so he held himself aloof of the way they tried to get him join in. They had tried, once, to snag one of the bones from his prey to coax him to play and he'd nearly snapped them up with his meat. He'd roared and threatened them, they went scattering away from him, until after he'd eaten. He would have thought it would send them out of Rowan's pastures completely, back to the ocean, but they only learned not to mess with his meat. He didn't know what they wanted from him or what they intended, only that they wanted to be around him. It was the reappearance of Rouro that gave them, and Alaine, a purpose. The sea otter had come up the path one day with a smile on his short muzzled face and announced that he was here to teach Alaine to swim. Something all the otters held in high regard.

He had revealed his real deformity, not that Rouro hadn't guessed it, but for the first time Alaine spoke bitterly about his inability to fly. Rowan had been disgusted at the cruelty of the elves, and pitied him, an emotion that made his stomach turn. The otters, though, had not pitied him, but had demanded that he learn to swim. The archipelago could be navigated through the currents and waterways if one could properly swim and understood the way that water worked. That was where he spent nearly every day, from morning until evening. He paddled in the lake and strengthened his body to the flow of the water under Rouro and the Otterkins' careful eyes.

"Alaine!" Rouro popped up just in front of the drake's muzzle. "This is not how you swim, you must swim as you would fly. Use your wings, your tail, do not paddle, but glide through the water swift and true."

"I.. am.. trying!" He snarled out and the otter's sleek form kept pace with his muzzle, he made it look effortless.

"Use your wings! Strengthen them!" Rouro leapt forward while the drake swung his tail back and forth. "Use them to push you to the shore!"

Alaine drew his tongue back into his maw and snapped his jaws shut. Rouro always encouraged him to use his aching battered wings in the water instead of his paws. He understood the reasoning behind it, but it hurt, it hurt like nothing else in the world. He snarled out and spread his wings open beneath the water, the bones shifted and sent stabs of pain through him as she pushed them against the water. The tattered wing sails spread out and pushed against the water so he surged forward. He couldn't pull his wings inwards easily, but he did manage, and tried for another beat. The broad wing sails that should have been used to catch the air beneath them and send him soaring, were perfect for propelling his body through the water. Even he had to admit it. It would have been ideal, if only it hadn't sent stabs of white hot pain through him.

He pushed towards the shore, one beat at a time, his breathing became shallow pants punctuated by roars of pain when he beat his wings beneath the water. The otters communed around him, diving and encouraging him as he fought to keep his front legs still and use his wings alone. His breath burned in his lungs as he kicked harder with his hind legs and found himself slowly slipping through the lake and towards the haven of the shore. It wasn't his own strength that pushed him into the shallows, but the desperation to rest his wings. With a final screeching roar he surged up onto the edge of the lake and sent great gouts of water up before him. He trembled from the pain that burned along his wing arms and stumbled as he felt the smooth pebbles beneath his paws. He got out of the lake just far enough that most of his body was out of the water before dropping down onto his stomach panting and shaking.

"Very good! You made it all the way today!" Rouro came out beside him, the burly male Hikon joined him and shook himself free of the water.

"Aye, not a bad days work, dragon." Hikon gave him a long look and glanced at Alaine's wings that hung half spread and twisted on the rocky lake shore.

"It's no.. good... it hurts.." He panted in reply, trying to catch his breath. "The bone isn't right."

"No, it's not, but you must learn to work past the pain." Hikon dropped down on a log as Alaine pulled his tail out of the water and tried to still his panting. "A dragon on the ground is easy prey."

"So say you." Alaine snapped his teeth in the air towards the male. "I am larger, faster, and more deadly then you are."

"No, you're big and showy, you can't hide the way we can. A few good spears and you're dead, Alaine." Rouro sprawled out beside the male, the rest of the otters still played in the water. "You are a walking target on land and you have no escape, so we have to give you one."

"I'd like to see the first two legger to try himself against me." The drake twisted his lips back in a snarl, slowly pulling his aching wings in against his body. "I am tired of these games, I wish to go to Hayden's Spit, I wish to see these elves that think they can command dragons."

Hayden's Spit. The island that was so large that it could have been an entire country, and seat of the Imperial Dragons and their riders, the Tomaians. Rouro had spoken of it with fear, and awe, as a place where there were no ports for ships to tie up and no tolerance for any other species except for elves. They had driven out the humans and every other species early on in the war and closed it off. There had been a few attempts for traders to make a port there, but they had been rebuffed, often times with violence. The Imperial dragon's had their own land there, but no one knew what it was. If it was made from proper aeries where they lived as real dragons or if they were small cages like he had been in. It was from there that war was waged and warriors sent out. It was there that the elves worked the great magics. And it was there that Alaine planned to carry out his own war.

He needed to free the dragons they held captive and set them loose on the world. The ones that had fled to the south weren't warriors, but these ones had been used for war. They knew his hatred of elven kind and would be willing to join with him. Rowan insisted that they were loyal only to their riders, but he did not believe it. A dragon could be broken with hunger and fear and pain, they only needed to be shown that there was still a dragon in the world that would stand up to the elves. He would make them rise up against their masters and fight for their freedom. He would make Hayden's Spit run red with blood, he would eat them, destroying every vow his kind had made with Aratha to leave the races in peace. He didn't care, he wasn't truly a dragon any more, what did he care for the rules he had been fed growing up?

"Yes, you'll kill the first and doubtless the third and fourth, but what if they bring down the Imperial dragons? They will kill you." Rowan broke in, the gravid satyr came from the rushes with a frown on her face. Her ears were pinned back to her head. "I told you, they serve the elves."

"Dragons that have been abused and tortured, dragons that do not know better. They will not strike me down, they will see a dragon standing firm and strong." Alaine settled his wings painfully on his back.

"Alaine!" Rowan snapped his name as she slowly dropped down to sit on a smooth rock. Her herding dog, Rolli, growled at him as he stalked to her side. "Do you think you're going to parade onto the Isle and they're going to just make way for you to get to the dragons? What do you think you're going to do when they come en masse? With magic and swords at the ready?"

"I will kill them!" He snarled a response and turned his head to groom his scales, attempting to ignore her as she gave a frustrated sound. "They are small and-"

"And they killed your kin, broke your wings, and treated you like a mule." Rowan spoke the painful words in a flat tone that made him flinch.

He wanted to roar at her, to drive her away and the painful memories she brought up, but when he turned his head to snarl, he swallowed the urge. She had grown heavier with her young, her cheeks were drawn and the edges of her eyes tight from her exhaustion. The Otterkin had helped with the herding and chores, but her pregnancy was starting to take its toll on her as it was coming towards the end.

"I was young, my people trusting, I am no longer trusting." He shifted up onto his haunches and pulled his wings up to his back, the aching joints were burning from his earlier exertion.

"You do not listen to what we are saying!" Rouro sounded frustrated. "All dragons can swim, few dragons will swim. Your people are lords of the sky, so most of you only know how to splash around. If you can learn to swim, to use those wings to propel yourself smoothly through the water, you can have an escape. First you will learn to swim with them, then to dive, then to escape. Hayden's Spit is filled with lakes and rivers, as well as the coast. If you are caught, you can escape as long as you keep near water. There is an entire sky beneath the water, that is your protection."

"I am not a fish!" Alaine bristled, his tail twitched and sent up a spray of water beside him. "And I am not prey to run from battle."

"That is the way to death," Rouro looked pained. "You have to adapt. Dragon, we want you to succeed, we want these elves gone, and you are a great hope, but you have to change how you wish to fight it. Will you die because you refuse to even try?"

"It hurts, how can I swim when every move of my wings is an agony?" He dropped back down on her belly with a sigh. "They are useless." He twisted his head and used his nose to push one of the tattered sails with a growl.

"Alaine.." Rowan's voice was soft and said as she spoke his name.

"They are lovely, like rubies made flesh, dusted in the finest edge of gold and silver, rippling and catching the light, Alaine," Rouro praised him with a soft churring noise. "They are glorious to behold, wondrous and still useable if we are able to help you."

"Lovely." He growled, but preened a bit at the compliment. "They are still not useable."

"Past the pain, Alaine, you must work past it." Hikon clacked his cuffed tail against the rocks. "I know it's painful, but we're going to teach you to work past it. I've sent for one of our healers, he was good at fixing my tail when it was broken in a storm, perhaps she can do something for your wing. Not to fly, but to swim with." The otter hurried on as Alaine lifted his head hopefully. "But for now, we must keep you working at it."

"Otters." He growled the word like a curse and drooped his head down. He wanted to leave, now, to flee to Hayden's Spit and begin an end to the elves. He was tired of this frolicking in the water, tired of the foolish otters that churred and chirped as they encouraged him at his attempts.

"Sweet Sunsray!" Rowan's hissed curse made Alaine jerk his head up as she curled forward over her gravid belly. He tried to flare his wings in alarm as her arms went to wrap around the swollen bulge, Hikon looked as stunned as the drake felt. Rouro, however, leapt up and barked out a name towards the otters still in the water.

"What's going on?!" Alaine jabbed his head forward, ignoring the snarling Rolli as he tried to snuff at the satyr. Her furred legs had even drawn up. "What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Rowan gasped out, and let out a broken laugh before hissing softly. "Nothing, nothing at all..."

"You are crying!" The drake felt a rush of panic and lunged to his feet with a snarl. "What has hurt you? I will kill it!" He curled his lips back in a snarl, swaying his head back and forth just above her protectively. Nothing should harm a clutching female!

"You foolish.. Get back you great lout!" One of the otters ran beneath his chin, she was still dripping wetly from the water. "She's going to give birth."

"Birth?" Alaine blinked slowly and pulled his head away. "Oh, she's going to clutch. She should have hot sand, the lake is good for that."

He withdrew as the female moved to slip an arm under the satyr's elbow to help her up onto her hooves. Rouro let out a laugh, soon picked up by Hokin while he watched in confusion as the satyr allowed herself to be led away from the shore. Shouldn't she stay here where the lake bed had sands that were soft and warm? With a huff he pushed onto hall fours and trailed behind them, curious despite the other worries that nagged at the back of his mind. He'd never seen an egg laid before, and he'd certainly never seen anything give birth.

~ ~ * ~ ~

It turned out that Alaine was denied the right to see a birth, the female Otterkin resolutely shot the door right in his face as he tried to peer inside. He'd been nearly annoyed enough to bite the top off the roof and peer in just to spite them, but he had vague memories that a clutching female needed to have peace to lay. So he sprawled out in the clearing in front of the small lodge and growled to himself as he tried to listen to what was going on. It wasn't hard, Rowan let out bleating cries that sounded more animal then a reasoning creature. Hokin had made himself scarce, as had the rest of the male Otterkin, they hadn't even asked his permission before leaving, they'd just ghosted away. He didn't care, he was intent on trying to listen to what was happening inside, even if it did sound painful. It roused protective instincts in him as he kept his eyes alert and senses keen in case the noises brought predators to investigate.

It went on long into the afternoon, when the sun began to bake his scales and make him long for a nap. Somewhere towards the latest part of the afternoon the sounds within the cottage changed. He was drowsing, eyes half lidded when a bleating cry rose up. High pitched and bursting out into the still air so he jerked his head up with a snort of shock. It wasn't Rowan, it was thinner and reedy sounding. The drake shifted up onto his haunches and shook his wings out before leaning towards the closed door. He snuffled curiously, but all he could smell was Rowan, otter and blood. He wrinkled his lips back a little and licked the wooden door curiously. The bleating cry continued, but slowly became more muffled while he dropped his head and snuffed at the bottom edge of the door. He wanted to know what was going on, it could only be the youngster. What did a baby satyr look like?

He had started trying to push against the door, curious to see if it would hold, when it suddenly was yanked open before he could test how much pressure he would have to give it to make it push open. He snorted down at the cream colored paws of the Otterkin female and rolled his eyes up as the female cast away a damp rag. She looked more amused than annoyed at him as he lifted his head and gave a growling puff.

"That noise is intolerable." He growled in annoyance, covering up his curiosity with feigned anger. "Why is it doing that."

"Males." The otter chirped and stepped aside, "Go on, have a look, but be quiet and stop growling or you'll scare the little one."

"Alaine?" Rowan's voice sounded exhausted as he tried to fit his head through a door that was far too small. Her laughter reached him, hoarse, but it was laughter. "Illia, come help me up. He'll take down the cottage." The drake tried pushing harder, but his muzzle was wedged as far as it would go. He couldn't get his eyes into the dwelling to properly see what was going on, but the scent of blood and other things clung on the air. Laying for mammals was apparently a messy business.

"Only for a moment, and then to bed. Out!" The otter female gave a flick of her paw that made him snarl at her, but that triggered a high pitched bleat. He stilled his growl and pulled his head back with a snort.

It took longer than he cared to wait as Illia moved to help Rowan. His tail lashed back and forth, sweeping large bits of leaves up behind him as he tried his best to keep from growling his impatience. After a time, Rowan came out leaning against the otter female with one arm and the other holding a wriggling bundle that made a few muffled noises. He tilted his head curiously and extended his head to snuffle towards her. The satyr's eyes had circles under them, her face was damp and even her fur seemed slick as if she had been sweating. His attention rested briefly on her, and shifted to the bundle she moved so he could peer into them, right into a short delicate muzzle that was colored in a striking pattern of rusty red and palest white.

At first, he thought he was looking at a common goat's kid, but his eyes adjusted to the way the damp fur changed to pink chubby skin along the chest and what he could see of the belly. The arms were just like Rowan's, furred with one white and the other chestnut and two fingers and a thumb. The hoof tips were small and so delicate looking as they shifted in the air and the little creature let out another bleating cry. The muzzle opened up and showed a dark pink tongue as it wriggled back and forth, exposing kicking little legs to him. It was barely bigger than his eye, not nearly large enough to account for her belly, but there he was, small and chubby, bleating and wriggling in Rowan's arms. He leaned over the little creature, but froze as Rowan tensed up.

"It is so small." He kept his voice small as he watched the infant's eyes blink open to peer up at him, the strange slit pupils focused on his giant head, but it didn't bleat out in fear.

"Yes he is," Rowan relaxed when Alaine didn't make an aggressive move. "And very lively, isn't he?"

"Yes." Alaine blinked his eyes in wonder and edged a little further forward, Rowan helped by lifting the bundle towards him so he could snuffle the baby curiously. "He is different from you, you do not have a muzzle."

"Buck's are different from us, but he is quite handsome." Rowan looked even more tired as Alaine felt a thrill run through him. A male! He didn't know why his chest swelled with pride, but it did and he carefully flicked out his tongue tip.

It was large enough that it could have scooped up the entire baby, but he only brushed the very tip against the furred brow. It was a feather light touch that coaxed a strange burbling noise from the infant's muzzle before it was gone. He tasted of new birth and warm fur, of Rowan and clean soap, a taste that Alaine savored, but not as food. It was the strangest feeling in the world looking down at something only minutes old, that had the entire life laid out in front of him. A future, a home, a fate that was wholly and completely his own. The little one was untouched by any of the evils in the world, protected within the circle of his mother's arms. His throat started to rasp out a rough purr as Rowan moved the baby away and he tried to croon out a song to the babe.

"A fine buck, Rowan." He rumbled ever so softly, and something settled in his heart and soul. Something so fragile and foreign that he could only hold it deep inside as he dropped back onto his haunches and let Rowan step away from him. For the briefest time, his rage subsided with the wonder of witnessing the wide eyed babe. There was no room for his black emotions in the infants world of milk and warmth.