The two-legged walkers and the hatchling journeyed for some time—but for the young dragon, each passing moment held new discoveries, new sensations, and, above all, new mysteries.

Each day, a great, white eye beamed harsh streaks of light down onto the world, painting the landscape with life. The air hummed with all manner of sounds, each one new and startling—the chitter of tiny beasts with puffy tails and great big front teeth; the soft crunch of leaves and twigs beneath the shaded creatures’ larger paws; the flittering hum of the smallest creatures as they darted across and around the four as they stomped along, meeting their fates in the untimely snap of the portly ones’ hand.

When darkness fell, they huddled close, near the crackling heat of a flame. He’d seen fire before, in their torches in the cavern—but now he truly experienced it. Its warmth embraced his scales, greeting them like an old friend as the golden light shimmered against his ruby-colored body.

Curious, the hatchling stared at it, earning a smile from the girl as she stoked it with a large stick. The rest of them were quiet, as they had been since the light quit the world; they were slumped into three blanketed piles around the fire, their breathing thicker and clumsier than during the day.

With each stab of the stick, the fire whooshed, sending flutters of sparkling embers into the air. The hatchling edged closer, encouraged by the fire’s warmth, and extended his hands slowly, cautiously.

“I’d be careful, if I was you,” the girl said, her eyes staring into the fire. Its light danced on her amber-colored eyes.

But the young dragon was far too brazen—and too ignorant—to listen to reasonable counsel. He kept extending his hand toward the fire—and as his claw neared the flame, he felt the bite of the fire. He yanked his hand back, his face scrunching as the pain shot through his hand.

The blonde girl smiled. “See?”

The young dragon had seen, indeed—but not what the girl had hoped. Despite the biting pain of the fire, he still felt its allure, and it was even stronger than before. It was as if something deep within him was awakened when he touched the flames’ heat. The hatchling leaned forward, extending the same leg as before, his ruby-colored scales still darkened and throbbing.

And before the girl could caution him against it, he shoved his claw forward, plunging it into the flames.

The girl dropped the stick in her hand and reached for him, panic flashing onto her face. She grabbed his leg and pulled it back from the fire.

“What the hells?!” she exclaimed, holding his smoking hand up. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

The young dragon stared at his smoking hand. But it didn’t hurt, as the girl seemed to expect. It stung a little, sure, but the young dragon wasn’t fixating on the sensation nearly as much as she was. Instead, his focus was entirely drawn inward, to the hum of a deep, roaring energy clawing its way up from his belly. He felt it roar up his throat, then into his maw—and he couldn’t contain it for long.

Fire gushed from between his teeth, rushing out into the world like a spooked horse bolting from its stable. The sheer force of it forced the dragon’s maw open, allowing a puff of flame to roar into the world with a loud whoosh.

Basic Skill acquired: Fire Breathing (Lv. 1)

Expel a blast of fire from your maw.

The sudden noise stirred the entire camp. To the dragon’s surprise, the portly one was the first up; he rolled over and hopped up onto his feet in one smooth motion, drawing his blade from under his makeshift pillow and scanning the darkness for threats. The tall one blinked himself awake and clumsily rocked onto his feet.

The gray man—their leader, the hatchling had come to realize—simply groaned and sat up. He looked confident and relaxed, on the surface, but in reality, the man’s eyes darted about quickly and decisively, his hand curled around a dagger tucked beneath his makeshift pillow.

“Relax, everyone,” the girl said, sitting up. “The dragon just…” She pursed her lips. “Breathed fire.”

At that, the dragon glanced up at the girl, his big eyes curious. She peered down at him, thinking, for a moment, that the beast understood her, then turned back to her comrades, dismissing the thought.

The tall one quirked a brow. “That’s hardly something to be relaxed about…”

The girl gave the man a flat look. “He’s a dragon. What do you expect?”

“A good night’s sleep, that’s what I bloody expect,” the portly man said, slumping back down.

The gray man sighed. “You’re right. We need our rest.” He glanced at the girl. “Holly. Need someone to take over your watch?”

The girl did look tired, and the light of their campfire dancing on her face only further emphasized her tired features.

But she didn’t take the gray man up on his offer. She simply shook her head. “I’m alright.”

The gray man nodded and turned back over, settling back in. The tall man shook his head and grumbled something before he too settled in. After just a few minutes, they were soundly asleep again.

“What was that?” the girl asked, whispering at the young dragon. “Since when can you breathe fire?”

The hatchling stared at her blankly.

She shook her head. “Of course, you have no idea what I’m saying…” She sighed.

But, on the contrary, as he met the girl’s eye, the young dragon shook his head firmly.

The girl’s eyes went wide. She stared at the dragon for a long moment, then leaned in closer. “You can understand me.”

The hatchling nodded slowly.

The girl drew back out of sheer shock. She glanced at her comrades, then leaned in closer again.

“Raise your left front claw if you can understand me,” she said, raising her own left hand.

But, alas, while the young dragon understood the command, he was not yet certain of his lefts and rights. He’d heard the four warriors mention going ‘left here’, or going ‘right at the bridge’, but he himself wasn’t quite sure what his left and right were.

The young dragon raised his front claws and held them up to the girl. His eyes darted between his claws, as though trying to puzzle out which was which. Finally, after some internal debate, the young dragon raised a claw—the wrong one, evidently. He held up his right claw, and it was met with a mixed look from the girl—half amazement as the fact that the dragon understood her settled in, and half gentle confusion as the dragon raised the wrong claw.

She leaned in close and gently raised his left claw for him, while slowly depressing his right.

“Left,” she said, nodding. She smiled at him.

Smiling—the young dragon thought—was a strange thing. He’d seen the four warriors do it, though only occasionally, usually after they made some clever quip and usually followed by a soft chuckle from their comrades. The young dragon didn’t get it, though; in fact, an unexplained pang of panic shot through his chest when he saw them expose their teeth. They, too, seemed to feel the same when he exposed his own teeth at them.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Huh…” the girl said, slumping back, her gaze drifting off. “You can understand what we’re saying…” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What else can you do?”

The hatchling paused at the question. He was unsure of it himself. He didn’t really know what he could do—aside from the two Skills that’d flashed before his eyes. As far as he knew, he could understand all languages and breathe fire.

Was there more to being a dragon?

Having never seen another dragon in his young life, the hatchling had no idea what a dragon really was, let alone what one could do. He didn’t know what it meant to be a dragon, either. What was he supposed to do?

As an answer to the girl’s question, the young dragon decided to do what little he knew he could—breathe fire. He recalled the feeling: the warmth welling in his belly, his throat expanding, his maw being forced open…

And as he did, the fire came, as though commanded. A bulge of flames gushed up his throat and burst from his maw, roaring out into the air.

The noise earned an annoyed grumble from the sleeping warriors; they shuffled and went back to sleep. The girl, however, stared wide-eyed as the fireball roared up and dissipated. When its light faded from the clearing, she lowered her gaze back down to the dragon, looking at him with expectation in her eyes.

“Can you… talk?” the girl asked, enunciating her words. Her eyes flitted to the tiny wings on his back. “Wait… Can you fly?”

The young dragon stared back at her, unsure how to meet her expectations. He didn’t know what ‘flying’ was, exactly; he knew, in an instinctual way, what the word meant, but he didn’t understand how exactly he was meant to do it. The size of his wings, however, didn’t seem to lend themselves to flying; they were barely larger than the girl’s hands, and she certainly couldn’t fly—at least, as far as the dragon had seen.

He answered the girl with a simple shrug—on the subject of flying, at least.

The girl pursed her lips. “I suppose not all dragons can fly…” She sounded disappointed by that. “What about talking? Can you talk?”

On the subject of talking, though, the hatchling decided to give it another shot. He’d watched the warriors do it for some time now, and it didn’t seem that hard. He already understood what the words meant—now, he just had to form them. He just had to open and close his maw, and the words would just… come out. Right?

The young dragon took a breath, then slowly opened his mouth, trying to say ‘hello’.

But with his maw open, all he could manage was an unclear haaa sound, like some kind of half-hearted howl. But the hatchling was far too stubborn to give up after just one try. He snapped his maw shut and tried again. This time, he took care to quirk his maw as he opened it, just as he’d seen the warriors do.

But as before, all he could manage was a shapeless howl. Frustrated, the young dragon furrowed his brow and opened his maw to try again—but the girl waved a hand, giving up on the idea.

“That’s a no, then…” She pursed her lips and slumped down.

She seemed… disappointed, as though he hadn’t quite measured up to the elaborate adventures she’d heard in taverns the realm over.

That sent a pang through the hatchling’s heart. He didn’t know what it meant to be a dragon—but, so far, he knew he wasn’t measuring up.

Determined to impress the girl, the young dragon furrowed his brow and puffed his chest, stirring his fire. He couldn’t speak, as the girl had wanted—but he could breathe fire. When he’d breathed fire last time, it’d painted amazement on the girl’s eyes as she’d stared up at his fireball. For some reason, he wanted to see that look in her eyes again; he wanted to impress her.

The young dragon took a breath. The cool air sank into his belly as though each gulp weighed a thousand pounds. As soon as it hit the base of his gut, though, heat surged through the air, warming it in an instant—until fire erupted deep within him, like a spark catching tinder.

But this time, the young dragon didn’t allow it to gush forth from his gut right away, as he had before. This time, the hatchling clenched his maw tightly, keeping the fire within himself, amassing it. Fire roared within his belly, clawing at his gut. Heat radiated from his scales, his red scales glowing a rich, blood-red light.

The girl noticed it and glanced down, her brow furrowing in confusion. She wondered what he could be doing—but, unlike most in her position, she didn’t edge away from the dragon. She shifted closer, her curiosity getting the better of her.

And the young dragon let go, unable to keep the fire down much longer. As soon as he allowed his maw to open just a fraction of an inch, fire came rushing up. A great pillar of white-and-orange fire erupted from him, blasting upward with incredible force. Heat radiated from the fire, bathing the entire camp in a wave of burning air, stirring the three warriors from their slumber yet again. The warriors stared up as the solid stream of fire illuminated the night like the light of the sun, forcing their eyes to a squint.

“What the hells?!” one of them exclaimed, their voice lost in the roar of the flame.

The hatchling, too, was surprised by the sheer amount of fire pouring from him. Before, he’d barely managed a small fireball, the size of a melon. Now, a seemingly endless torrent of fire poured from him, showing no sign of letting up.

And the force of the fire was taking its toll on the dragon himself. His teeth ached with the effort of resisting the flow of the fire, keeping it aimed up into the air. His maw felt like it was about to break open against the fire’s relentless fury.

Crack.

With a sudden jerk, his strength gave out—his maw cracked open, allowing even more fire through. The force of it quickly overwhelmed the young dragon’s small form, sending him tumbling back into the dirt and whipping his head back.

And the pillar of flame blasted back with it. The beam of fire cleaved its way down, carving its light through the night.

“Look out!” the girl exclaimed, her sharp voice cutting through the steady roar of flame.

The tall man snapped to attention, his eyes darting up at the pillar of flame rapidly collapsing over him. The tall man dove to the side, ducking into a roll out of the flame’s path—and just in time. As he landed, the fiery pillar cleaved through his bedding, decimating it with a puff of dark smoke.

Moments later, the pillar of flame crashed down ahead, burning through an entire mosswood tree, cleaving it in half—and burning through row after row of foliage beyond it, spilling fire outward.

Mercifully, though, once the pillar crashed into the forest, the fire began to taper off—much to everyone’s relief. The last tongues of fire left the hatchling’s dislocated maw, leaving a puff of smoke trailing from between his still-glowing teeth. All their ears were ringing with the echoes of the fire’s roar as they stared in silence.

Finally, the tall man spoke up.

“Gods…” he muttered, staring at the damage. “I told you all—that thing is dangerous!”

“Thing?” The girl frowned. “He’s not a thing.”

“Whatever he is,” the portly man said, clutching his blade, “he’s dangerous. Flakken is right.”

“He’s not,” the girl insisted, stepping in front of the young dragon as he gathered his senses, his head swimming. “That was just… just a mistake. H-He can’t control it yet. He’s just a ba—”

The gray man put a stiff hand up. “We’ll discuss it later.” He nodded at the forest ahead.

The fire had stopped spilling from the hatchling’s maw—but the embers from his fire were spreading within the woods, penetrating deeper with each passing gust of wind. White smoke thickened in the air.

“We need to get out of here—now,” the gray man said. “Gather your belongings.”

The tall man gave a flat look as he glanced at what little remained of his bedroll and gear. He grumbled something under his breath as he went to pick through the ashes.

The portly man and the gray man shuffled off to gather their belongings. The girl, however, only went to her belongings to snatch something from within her satchel, then quickly shuffled over to the young dragon.

“Are you okay?” she asked, in a kind voice, extending a chunk of dried meat.

The young dragon rolled off his back and onto his feet. His maw hung loose, dislocated by the sheer force of his fiery torrent. He clawed at it, pushing his loose jaw up—and with a stiff shove, his jaw clicked into place. A pang of pain shot through his maw, making him wince—but, otherwise, he was alright.

When he smelled the meat, he was better than alright.

The hatchling snatched it from the girl’s hand excitedly, chewing it urgently. Breathing that much fire had evidently worked up quite the appetite. As he chewed it, the young girl smiled and, cautiously, reached toward the dragon. She touched his scales and gave him a gentle scratch behind the two stubby horns extending from his skull—much to the young dragon’s appreciation.

“It’s alright,” she said, with a smile. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

And the young dragon believed her. For some reason, he felt like he could trust her—and that she trusted him. He couldn’t understand why exactly.

“I’m Holly, by the way. Holly Halzfire.” She withdrew her hand, the look of a sudden realization flashing onto her face. “You… don’t have a name, do you?”

The hatchling stared up at her quizzically. A name? He had heard the warriors refer to one another with specific words—Flakken, Garth, Archie, Holly. Then again, he’d also heard them call each other ‘idiot’, ‘fool’, ‘fat-ass’… What was the difference? He wasn’t sure he wanted to be called any of those things.

But… he wanted a name. At least, he felt sad at the thought of not having one.

And Holly sensed his sadness.

“We’ll just have to give you one, then.” She glanced around, as if looking for ideas. One came quickly, though, when she saw the forest simmering with the embers of the young dragon’s fire breath.

“Valo.” Holly smiled. “Valo—that’s what we’ll call you.”