All Legends Must Begin Somewhere

A lone, small figure slunk through the underbrush, belly low enough to keep the creature well under the foliage. A gleam of deep blue under the moonlight exposed its scales, if only for a heartbeat, but onwards the little thing trekked.

Always moving.

Always hiding.

Hunted…

If it could safely do so, it would have screamed its frustration with that to the world, upset at becoming the hunted one when it knew deep within that it was a hunter at its core, it was supposed to be deadly and feared.

Spined fins behind its neck twitched and swiveled at the sound of a new audible stimuli within these woods, easily heard in the silence of the terror that kept the inhabitants quiet and still. The little one changed direction, even just barely, and crawled closer.

Ferns and wild grasses were easily slid through and around, leaving no trace as it crept like a phantom through the woods. It hesitated only a moment at the edge before slipping into the tall grasses of the glen that it knew rested to the east. Finally, the noise led it in a familiar direction! Briefly grateful to the high pitched, tinny little sound, the creature peered out of a few grasses at its unwitting savior, the starry pattern of a male sky dragon catching more moonlight now.

Laying among the reeds and weeds of the glen was a large stone container with odd symbols etched into the sides. The creature knew his mother said humans of the vale nearby called such a thing a bowl, usually used for food. Wriggling within was a small, pathetic little form, even smaller than he was!

He came closer, unable to resist the curiosity. Whatever this is, it doesn't seem like any food the humans would eat. A scaled snout nudged silently into the thin cloth and fibers covering the small thing, which quieted briefly at the touch of another before a pudgy appendage shot out to grip one of the encroaching head spines.

The visiting creature let out a quiet hiss, not expecting that, and more alarmed at the frankly hideous appendage now holding him hostage. What kind of paw was that? It didn't look like anything mother had ever spoken of, except maybe the humans. But surely the humans wouldn't be so dumb as to leave one of their spawn out when it had no fur, feathers, or scales to speak of for protection or warmth.

His ear spines twitched again, this time in alarm. The earth had barely moved, but he felt it keenly. His hunter must have been approaching, time was crucial now and the time to escape into the night was then.

Opalescent eyes surveyed the small creature in the bowl, weighing his choices. His first instinct was to just run, quickly, but this little thing inadvertently helped him, and his mother had always said to repay debts when possible.

He took a mouthful of the strange cloths covering the human spawn, determinedly ignoring the foul taste of soured fibers in his mouth as he yanked the spawn up by its coverings. The spawn made an odd sound, like a croaking but repetitive and accompanied by uncoordinated claps. He ignored the spawn's odd behavior and ran away from the bowl and the certain death of his sire coming to destroy the small creature who lingered too long in his territory.

Days later, he would receive a name from the little spawn, something even his mother had never given him. Tas, the spawn came to call the little dragon.

Years later, the spawn, known by that point as Kyna, would confess she called Tas so because she missed her doll, Tasryn. Tas honestly didn't care, happy by that point with his not so little spawn and the territory they had carved out in the heart of his sire's realm.

Decades later, Tas stood proudly at Kyna's side to defeat his sire and claim the territory as their own.

Centuries later, legends of Kyna the Vengeful and her tale of woe and wonder would be passed down, mourning and celebrating the death of the once sacrificed child turned warlord and eventually conqueror of the entire Linath region of Synnia, starting with the town that tried to send her to her death as a mere toddler.

Millenia later, Tas would still remember his little human spawn and all the adventures they jumped into as a hatchling and child without any care for consequences.

In the end, when Tas closed his eyes for the last time, brought down by one of his own hatchlings for his territory, he knew whose hands it was on his face that guided him to warmth and safety in the peace of her company.