M a r e k ' s . S t o r y

The sands were emptying fast, but the hatchling flame drak did not vacate his place of birth at first. Shaking the littering of shell shards from his hide and fur (and showering several clutchmates with wet goo), he crawled on wobbly legs up a small incline and sat on a dune. A small breeze picked up, tousling the fuzz on his head and neck that might one day pass for a mane. He shivered, still wet from the shell.

As time passed, sibling after sibling took flight -- or slithered away. A plethora of creatures were hatched that day, from hippogryphs and gryphons, to basilisks, wyverns, and dragons of all sizes. For these, the young drak had no name come to mind. To him, they were all his siblings, though none really bothered to bond with him, or simply communicate, in any way.

What is a parent? This too he had no knowledge of. There had never been a sire or dam to care for these eggs. As far as anyone could tell, mothers had lain their eggs and promptly vacated the area, as if they had been shamed by the mere sight of them. Since no one was there to watch besides the hatchlings themselves, there was no one to wonder about it.

Finally, there were only a few of his clutchmates left in the area. Most were either tardy in hatching, or were simply in no hurry to leave. The flame drak was of this latter group: he knew of nowhere to go, why should he have any reason to leave? At least for now…

He had been napping, curled up in a ball with the tuft of his tail draped across his face, four wings -- two pairs -- folded rather awkwardly at his sides. Nearby sat another winged creature, strangely similar to himself, though profoundly different. Both creatures had wings and fur, beaks and claws, but where the drak had fur his sister had feathers.

"That was quite rrude, you know," she said to him while licking a paw.

The drak blinked his golden-yellow eyes in surprise. "I'm ssorry? Whatever do you mean?"

"Earrlierr, when you brroke shell. You shook yourrself all overr me." The creature, a black and frosty-blue gryphon, paused in her grooming to glare almost apathetically at him.

"Oh! Pleasse forgive me! I had no idea!"

"Of courrse not. Nobody had anyone on theirr minds but themselves when they hatched. Myself included. So, apology accepted." And with that, the gryphon returned to her grooming and in her own time, walked away.

And yet again, the young drak was alone, though he felt no loneliness and was contented to stay where he was. He shook his fuzz, now dry but distinctly stiff. He looked around, now keenly conscientious of others, before rolling over onto his back and kicking his legs into the air. He left no inch of hide or hair alone as he rolled around in the sand, taking a bath in his own dusty way.

~ ~ ~

There came a day when the drak felt a pulling at his chest. It was a miraculous and troubling feeling all at once. It was a feeling that encouraged him to practice flight, to learn to fend for himself, and to become exceptional at both. Ah, yes, instinct is the word. Not only that, but as his skills improved, he began to feel something more, that which really yanked and pulled.

A word came to mind: Wanderlust...

And so, while it may seem very delayed compared to his siblings, the young flame drake was really very accelerated for many of dragonkind. When he was what one might consider a pre-adolescent, he was hunting with stealth and wile, and he was flying somersaults and other aerial acrobatics.

By the time he was a teenager, he was itching to explore. It was not just the world he wished to explore, but everything. He wanted to experience every feeling, do everything, and to go everywhere.