“Hey, big guy,” Glacia greeted her adoptive son as the young green dragon entered their den. “You're back from your playtime with Gretel sooner than you usually are. Did something happen?”

Gadalik exchanged a glance with the aforementioned wind type who poked her head in after him. His friend gave him an encouraging nod. “A game of I-spy turned into spying,” he confessed.

“Accidentally!” the wyvern added in his defense.

“Spying? On who?” Glacia asked, more curious than anything. The small purple aquatic fins on the sides of her head lifted slightly as if with intrigue.

“Guinevere… and that friend she mentioned," he said. "Do you remember the vision I had last fall? When we hid in the cenote to prevent it from coming true?"

The light blue water dragoness narrowed her red eyes, suddenly becoming more serious. “Don't tell me the evil seer you spent all that season hiding from is her friend?!”

“N-No! It's the opposite of that! Her friend is the bipedal savior I mentioned…”

“The poison type?” She rose to all fours and took a single step toward the mouth of the den, almost as if she planned on checking to see if he were outside. The adult seemed almost childlike with how fascinated she was by that revelation.

“Y-Yeah,” he stammered, not sure why she was reacting this way. “Have you met him?”

“No–I had no clue he and Guinevere had a connection. But anyone who is willing to risk his own life to save you is okay with me. I'd like to thank him personally, even if that future never happened.”

For someone who gave Guinevere a hard time despite her saving me from the snow, Glacia sure seems interested in befriending this stranger, he remarked silently, then shook his head dismissively. “I'd like to thank him too, but Guinevere mentioned any of his enemies may be following him, and if they see I'm a hybrid living here, I might become a target. So I'm wondering if the evil seer is one of his enemies. And... I’m going to ask her about it.”

“Yeah–I remember her saying that. And she's right: it's dangerous for you out there. No matter how sweet you are, all it takes is seeing your wings to know you're not a pure earth dragon–and not being a purebred is all the reason these social types need to hunt you down,” she growled lowly, though her anger was not directed at her company.

“Aren't water dragons social types?” Gretel reminded her.

“Yeah. And they're just as bad as the rest of them…”

Gadalik recalled his mother once saying not to trust them either, despite being one herself. The glimpse into her early life she had shared of her neglectful parents might be why she felt that way. But there was one thing he wasn’t clear on. “What exactly does it mean to be social? Or solitary, for that matter?”

“Solitary just means we can survive on our own from the moment we hatch,” the striped white juvenile replied. “We don't need to be taught how to use our abilities, or where we need to go if we have to migrate. It's all instinct, so we don't need anyone to help us.”

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“Right,” Glacia agreed. “And social types are the opposite. For example, water types need to be taught how to swim and shoot water, and our parents or other members of our society are meant to teach us that when we're hatchlings. Both of your parents–seer and earth dragon–are social types, so you are too, Gadalik.”

That explains why I felt so isolated here, he figured. “What do social types have against hybrids, then? And why haven't you ever tried to rejoin your society?”

“As I said before, I don't trust others–definitely not enough to live around them again.” Her gaze lingered on Gretel for just a moment; luckily not long enough for the latter to take offense. “And social types hate hybrids because they're”--she hesitated–“different.”

“Different…?”

“Misfits,” Gretel clarified. “Like… I'll bet you’re sensitive to the cold, right, Gadalik? I know pure seers are.”

“Yeah… I am,” the earth-seer hybrid admitted. “I can endure if I have to, but it hurts.”

“Pure earth types aren't. They aren't hurt by any extreme weather–hot or cold. So if you lived in an earth type’s society, you'd be the only one who couldn't do their fair share of hunting or guarding during the winter–and so they'd hate you for that. Societies only value members who can contribute to them."

Gadalik winced. Hate is such a strong word… And to hate someone for something they physically can't do? That's just… unfair…

“How do you know so much about societies, Gretel?” Glacia wondered.

The solitary type froze. “Um… Well, I… Uhh…” The purple spade-shaped tip of her tail twitched anxiously as she struggled to answer.

The older dragoness rolled her crimson eyes, not bothering to pursue the topic.

“Solitary and social are just natures,” sounded another’s voice.

“Guinevere!” the green dragon exclaimed, happy she was back.

The fairy type smiled slightly at his welcome, her upper body rim lit orange by the glow of her wings.

“What do you mean by natures?” he asked when his mind processed what she'd said.

“Nature and nurture can both shape how an individual dragon chooses to live. Glacia as a water dragon is social by nature, yet she chose to live a solitary life here. Gretel as a wind dragon is solitary by nature, yet she appears to behave more socially. No doubt their pasts–whatever they may be–have played a role on the nurture side for them to live outside of their natures.”

Gadalik let her words sink in. He understood his adoptive mother's reasons, but Gretel’s was still a mystery to him… and maybe even to herself, given her inability to remember. He sighed. “Oh–Guinevere… I have something I need to ask you about… regarding your friend and the seer who killed my parents.”

The rim light changed to green. “Go on,” she invited.

“You and I didn't meet until late winter last year. That was when you promised to warn me if my parents’ killer ever returned,” he began. “But during the fall before that… did you happen to see him…?”

“Hm. I'll admit it's hard for me to identify flighted dragons in my territory unless they linger or land. Dragons move faster when flying, and most just pass over my territory instead of stopping in it.”

“Then what's the point of your antennae?” Gretel impulsively asked, though her question was genuine. Even so, Gadalik shot his friend a warning look to act more respectful.

“Fairy types are not fighters or hunters; our antennae allow us to detect dying prey that we can scavenge from the earth, or feel the life of the plants we grow as food so we know what they need to survive. I just happened to hone mine to identify individual dragons’ life forces if they're nearby long enough, or if they land.”

“Did your friend happen to visit you last fall?” he pressed.

“Yes, but I don't see how that's relevant.” She paused for a moment. “Unless…”

Gadalik, Gretel, and even Glacia all leaned in closer to hear her answer.

“Someone who flew past did get his attention. But that was all they did: pass by.”

“That's only because they didn't find us after we hid in the cenote,” Gadalik murmured to his mother, who frowned.

“I don't understand,” Guinevere said. “Was the one who flew by the seer who killed your parents?”

“Yeah. And back then, I had a vision where he killed me and your friend, too.”