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"Winter," her breath was still as ice, hanging on the evening winds with an unnaturally long pause, "I'm nesting."

Nesting? It took him a moment to even process. About seven seconds. It took him longer to understand. Ten seconds. Then, it hit him at once like a burning wave, sliding over his scales and into his mind. Burning, unadulterated love and caring- all consumed and burned out into smoldering ashes of panic within a second. Eleven seconds.

He realized he must've looked bewildered at the very least, so he made sure to close his jaw. That was hanging open before, wasn't it?

"... Winter?" Moonwatcher's voice was a small thing. It had always been, since she had caught that glimpse of her friends broken and her trust betrayed, but even more so now, it was a quivering little note.

He didn't reply. He had lost count of what the number in his head was. Eleven was the last, but the time past since had been uncertain. The foggy green clouds drifting lazily in the distant, reflecting a dim glare into his eyes. The sun had moved, so clearly quite some time had past. Feeling fit to open his mouth, all that could sputter out was-

"That's great." He mumbled.

Too shocked to really hide how he felt on the matter- so that was how it was. Moonwatcher snorted, fully aware as he of all the swords looming over their heads on the matter, and recognizing his goonish nature quite apparently. Yet, it quickly soured into worry, far too fast for Winter's liking. He hated the bitterness that crossed her eyes, the tapping of his claws against the ground.

"No, no," she started, tail lashing in the meanwhile, "Darkstalker, Winter... think of what he'll do to us. To our children."

And there it was. Six minutes and forty five seconds after she told him, the panic hit him in the gut. His vision swarmed with spots, knees going weak as he collasped himself onto her, talons wrapping around her lithe neck and his ridged jaw resting on her head. Clinging for support, as the great green sun bared the angry gaze of the black devil into his every being. That creature that could not be allowed to have him.

And now, that creature that would hunt his children.

It was no secret as to Darkstalker's ancestry. IceWing. NightWing. The sparkling scales that danced in the light with the ebony hide that absorbed the darkness itself. He loathed the father of ice who sired him, and now to think that the NightWing he had taken for a makeshift daughter had made the "mistake" that his mother did. Winter shuddered at first to think of his wrath, which would undoubtedly end not only himself, but the hatchlings as well.

Then, he felt an indignity at the matter, knowing this creature that killed his people would see him as being wrong for forgiving and loving. What say should Darkstalker have, this dragon who could not see his own monstrosity as he decried anything resembling his past? Who likely saw his continued existence as a mistake? No- he would rise above. He would not let him take any more, stifle any more potential.

"I won't let him." Winter barked, resolute.

"You cannot stop him, Winter, he's impervious to damage. If he finds out, he will kill you for sure." Moonwatcher clasped his talon, looking through the cavern walls and out to the setting sun. She'd often turn away from other dragons when upset, Winter noted, noticing her distant expression.

"He will not find out." Winter growled under his breath, feeling a distinct coolness rush out from his lungs.

"I will lay in a few days," Moonwatcher began, "I have seen it. There's nowhere in the castle safe from his gaze."

Her vision was indeed impressive, Winter reckoned silently to himself. However, in interpretation, it was his crystal clear and decisive action which shone her light the greatest. He looked out, and he felt no connection to this place. He knew she did not either. But beyond- there was that salvation.

"Then we must leave!" He stood up, flaring his wings outwards, talons still touching as he peered out to the hints of golden light in that ill green sun. "We will hide away from him, and finally have that freedom we dreamed of."

"He is everywhere, Winter! There is nowhere left to hide." Moonwatcher pulled in her wings by contrast, becoming an even smaller thing.

"Not everywhere." Winter's spines rose defiantly. "Remember what he spoke of a few fortnights ago?"

"The rebels who killed Queen Glory- within the desert!" Her voice fell, yet her eyes gleamed. Winter smiled at her, seeing the light return to her eyes, if only briefly.

"Exactly."

---

Two shadowed shapes had left the castle through the dusk evening of the sickly sun. The king, caught in the doldrums of boredom and stoked in the fires of rage for a past long lost, did nothing but brood on his throne. He would've attended to the gem of his heart, if he still had one, but alas, he had grown too consumed with himself. He had let her go, unwittingly, but his ignorance.

That would be his greatest mistake.

Description
"Winter," her breath was still as ice, hanging on the evening winds with an unnaturally long pause, "I'm nesting."

Nesting? It took him a moment to even process. About seven seconds. It took him longer to understand. Ten seconds. Then, it hit him at once like a burning wave, sliding over his scales and into his mind. Burning, unadulterated love and caring- all consumed and burned out into smoldering ashes of panic within a second. Eleven seconds.

He realized he must've looked bewildered at the very least, so he made sure to close his jaw. That was hanging open before, wasn't it?

"... Winter?" Moonwatcher's voice was a small thing. It had always been, since she had caught that glimpse of her friends broken and her trust betrayed, but even more so now, it was a quivering little note.

He didn't reply. He had lost count of what the number in his head was. Eleven was the last, but the time past since had been uncertain. The foggy green clouds drifting lazily in the distant, reflecting a dim glare into his eyes. The sun had moved, so clearly quite some time had past. Feeling fit to open his mouth, all that could sputter out was-

"That's great." He mumbled.

Too shocked to really hide how he felt on the matter- so that was how it was. Moonwatcher snorted, fully aware as he of all the swords looming over their heads on the matter, and recognizing his goonish nature quite apparently. Yet, it quickly soured into worry, far too fast for Winter's liking. He hated the bitterness that crossed her eyes, the tapping of his claws against the ground.

"No, no," she started, tail lashing in the meanwhile, "Darkstalker, Winter... think of what he'll do to us. To our children."

And there it was. Six minutes and forty five seconds after she told him, the panic hit him in the gut. His vision swarmed with spots, knees going weak as he collasped himself onto her, talons wrapping around her lithe neck and his ridged jaw resting on her head. Clinging for support, as the great green sun bared the angry gaze of the black devil into his every being. That creature that could not be allowed to have him.

And now, that creature that would hunt his children.

It was no secret as to Darkstalker's ancestry. IceWing. NightWing. The sparkling scales that danced in the light with the ebony hide that absorbed the darkness itself. He loathed the father of ice who sired him, and now to think that the NightWing he had taken for a makeshift daughter had made the "mistake" that his mother did. Winter shuddered at first to think of his wrath, which would undoubtedly end not only himself, but the hatchlings as well.

Then, he felt an indignity at the matter, knowing this creature that killed his people would see him as being wrong for forgiving and loving. What say should Darkstalker have, this dragon who could not see his own monstrosity as he decried anything resembling his past? Who likely saw his continued existence as a mistake? No- he would rise above. He would not let him take any more, stifle any more potential.

"I won't let him." Winter barked, resolute.

"You cannot stop him, Winter, he's impervious to damage. If he finds out, he will kill you for sure." Moonwatcher clasped his talon, looking through the cavern walls and out to the setting sun. She'd often turn away from other dragons when upset, Winter noted, noticing her distant expression.

"He will not find out." Winter growled under his breath, feeling a distinct coolness rush out from his lungs.

"I will lay in a few days," Moonwatcher began, "I have seen it. There's nowhere in the castle safe from his gaze."

Her vision was indeed impressive, Winter reckoned silently to himself. However, in interpretation, it was his crystal clear and decisive action which shone her light the greatest. He looked out, and he felt no connection to this place. He knew she did not either. But beyond- there was that salvation.

"Then we must leave!" He stood up, flaring his wings outwards, talons still touching as he peered out to the hints of golden light in that ill green sun. "We will hide away from him, and finally have that freedom we dreamed of."

"He is everywhere, Winter! There is nowhere left to hide." Moonwatcher pulled in her wings by contrast, becoming an even smaller thing.

"Not everywhere." Winter's spines rose defiantly. "Remember what he spoke of a few fortnights ago?"

"The rebels who killed Queen Glory- within the desert!" Her voice fell, yet her eyes gleamed. Winter smiled at her, seeing the light return to her eyes, if only briefly.

"Exactly."

---

Two shadowed shapes had left the castle through the dusk evening of the sickly sun. The king, caught in the doldrums of boredom and stoked in the fires of rage for a past long lost, did nothing but brood on his throne. He would've attended to the gem of his heart, if he still had one, but alas, he had grown too consumed with himself. He had let her go, unwittingly, but his ignorance.

That would be his greatest mistake.