“Hold tight; we're heading down the slope,” Clay warned Efron, who leaned more securely against the back of the water dragon carrying him. The former paused to make sure the juvenile was steady, then glanced down at Gretel as she stopped at his side to eye him expectantly. He gave the younger dragons a somewhat playful, toothy smile. “Alrighty. Down we go!”

Clay trotted down the slope with a purposeful bounce in his step. Efron seemed scared from the motion at first, then couldn't help laughing after realizing the adult’s steps were in a safe, predictable rhythm without any risk of falling.

Gretel grinned at the two of them and bounded a few paces ahead where she leapt up and hovered. “‘C’mon, slowpokes! Betcha can't beat me to the bottom!”

“Hm. Think we can?” Clay asked the violet revealer.

Efron seemed stunned to be taken into consideration. Then he nodded eagerly. “Hurry–she has a head start already!”

“On it, chief! Going hyper-speed in three–two–one!” Clay suddenly sprinted past the wyvern with surprising speed.

Efron burst out laughing from how unexpectedly fast they were going, and it took Gretel a second to close her mouth that had gaped in shock, but she just as quickly recovered and dove through the air to match his pace.

“Faster! Don't let her win!” Efron cried between uncontrollable laughs.

“Yes, sir! Going into overdrive!” Clay reported, then pushed himself further, managing to pass Gretel at the last second before the ground leveled out. Efron cheered victoriously as his friend landed by them a second later.

“Wow, you're pretty quick,” she admitted, impressed. Though, of course, I let them win.

“Guess I've still got some fight left in these old bones,” the older dragon chuckled. Efron was still smiling even though the race was over. Clay turned around to face a thicket at the base of the slope. “Hey, missy; you've got company! Me, and two patients: a seven-month old wind hatchling and a two-year-old revealer.”

Gretel and Efron exchanged a curious glance, neither seeing who he was talking to. Then a new female’s voice called out in response from behind it: “Bring them in.”

“These sprigs might poke you, so brace yourself when we go past them, alright?” Clay warned the juvenile still sitting on his back.

The latter nodded and folded his blue wings in front of himself as a shield until the trio pushed through the foliage and entered a wide grotto beneath the upper woodlands they'd just descended from, held in place by sturdy tree roots that kept the damp, compact soil from burying them.

Inside was a brown-furred electric type dragoness with deep red eyes, claws, mane, and foot-pads. Gretel’s eyes were drawn to the latter; she had glimpsed electricity spark from Gavin’s yellow-green ones with each time he landed whilst leaping across the prairie to save Efron last evening, and wondered if this stranger’s would spark the same way.

The medic immediately took notice of Efron and gasped through her fingers a with horror. “Geez! I heard the injured revealer almost drowned yesterday, but he was also strangled?”

Efron blinked with confusion, then lifted a clawed hand to his own bruised neck and winced from the touch as if discovering she was right. “Oh…”

“What do you mean, ‘oh’? Do you not remember being choked so hard that your neck has a purple handprint on it?”

“W-What?”

“He doesn't remember,” Gretel spoke up. “That's why we brought him here.”

“Hm. Well maybe I can remind him what happened," the medic said. "That print is from a left hand: five digits, with smaller claws that remain a fixed length from the tips, meaning they aren't retractable. By process of elimination, that means another revealer–perhaps seven years old, given how big the hand is–had done that to you.”

Efron visibly paled, his green eyes widening and gaining that distant look again. Gretel got more concerned as the silence dragged on for several seconds, her friend beginning to tremble as he seemed to forget to breathe.

“Efron?” she called worriedly.

He came to from her voice; tears streamed down his cheeks when he finally blinked and inhaled, only to immediately begin hyperventilating.

“Efron, it's okay! She's gone! You're safe!”

The electric type placed a four-digit clawed hand on the wyvern’s shoulder. “Let him process it.”

Clay crouched so that the panicking juvenile wouldn't fall from his back, but Efron only clung to the older male as if for comfort while he sobbed between quick, unsteady breaths.

Gretel had never seen him so distressed before. She wanted to soothe him, but didn't know how to. Just sitting there, despite it being the only thing she could do, made her feel useless.

“Hey. You did the right thing bringing him here,” the older female assured her. “You seem to have some bruises as well. And scrapes along your torso. I'm assuming the same revealer must have attacked you as well as your friend?”

Gretel gaped at her, remembering how Kendra's harsh kick had sent her skidding across the ground. “Wow. You're good.”

“Fortunately, it doesn't look like anything serious. The way you walked in here, you didn't have a limp or show any signs of injury. You should be fine.”

“Thanks, but it's not me that I'm worried about…” The purple-striped wind type turned back to her friend, who by now had gotten off of Clay only to collapse and curl up on the ground, still deeply upset.

“You know, strangulation usually means it's personal for the attacker,” she remarked. “If he was choked by someone he was familiar with, I'll bet that betrayal hurt more than the physicality of it all. Just let him vent it out. Come, you two; let's step outside and give him some privacy.”

Clay and Gretel followed her out of the grotto. “Will he be okay?” the latter dared herself to ask.

“Physically, he’ll make a full recovery if he keeps his wound clean and doesn't strain himself. As for emotionally? Well, that remains to be seen. Since you mentioned he couldn't remember how he got injured, and given the severity of his injuries, I'm assuming it was very traumatic for him.”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Wait… How did you know how badly his arm was hurt? And who told you he drowned? Was it Clay?”

“Hm? Oh, no. I just heard it through the grapevine. You could say a little birdie told me. A specific birdie who did a good job cauterizing the way I'd shown him a month ago.”

“Gavin?!”

She laughed. “So you've met!”

“Yeah! Clay introduced me to him. Well, partly; I don't think I told Gavin my name yet.” Wait. Why did Gavin talk to the medic after saving Efron? Solitary dragons don't really talk to others, especially about matters that concern outsiders who aren't a threat. Unless… “Are you and Gavin mates? Is that why he told you?”

The medic recoiled, almost with disgust. “Heavens, no!”

Gretel blinked, completely caught off guard by that reaction. “What's wrong with the idea of Gavin being your mate?”

“He doesn't swing that way, for one. For another, I don't swing at all–nor do I ever want to.”

“Swing?” Gretel’s head tilted with childish innocence. When the fluffy adult seemed embarrassed, the younger female looked to Clay for answers.

“Uhh, I'll tell you when you're older… At least, if you stick around this island for that long,” he mumbled.

“Why wait until I'm older?” Then it clicked. “Oh! Swing, as in mate? So… you mean Gavin doesn't want to mate with females?”

Clay averted his eyes awkwardly.

The medic laughed. “Bingo! You're sharp!”

“And you don't want to mate, ever?” Gretel made the connection. “Why not?”

“I just don't like the idea of it, that's all.”

The wyvern stared incredulously at her. I never knew that ‘not mating’ was an option. Now that she mentions it, I don't think I ever want a mate, either.

“My name’s Wren,” the brown electric type added. “While Gavin’s not my mate, he is my friend–and so is Clay. The only two friends I care to have, anyway. If you're on good terms with them, then you're fine by me as well.”

“I'm Gretel. Clay mentioned you also saved the hatchling that’s with Gavin when she was first abandoned here, too, right?”

Wren’s smile fell and her eyes narrowed somberly. “Yeah. First that hatchling a month ago was clawed in the back and left here to die, and now this one got clawed in the arm and strangled?” she said with a disapproving shake of her head. “Those poor juveniles. To make matters worse, I'll bet their own parents did it to them.”

Gretel nodded ever so slightly to confirm that was the case with her friend. She brushed through the thicket to peer inside, checking if he was okay.

Efron had calmed enough to breathe normally again; he was sitting up and hugging his legs to his chest, tears still dripping down from his watered green eyes that were staring ahead at nothing.

She moved to sit by his side. “You remembered everything, huh…?”

He nodded, closing his eyes and burying his face between his knees.

“It's alright… We're safe here. If she ever comes back, I'll roar so loud that she won't wake up a second time,” she said with a determined smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He lifted his head, then laughed slightly. “If she even woke up after last time.” Gretel couldn't tell if that was meant as a joke, even when he laughed some more; his laughter became somewhat hysterical.

The reality of the situation sank in for the younger dragon. “Efron, I'm sorry…”

“Heh! For what? Stopping my own mother from killing me–all because she found out I survived her first attempt?” He laughed some more, tears falling all the while. When he finally got it out of his system, the older juvenile heaved a sigh. “I'm sorry…”

“Sorry…? For what?”

He shrugged.

“Efron, you didn't do anything wrong…”

“My mother sure thought otherwise.”

“That doesn't mean she's right...”

“It doesn't matter if she's right… When you're the alpha in revealer society, then you're always right, because nobody else around you is strong enough to ‘prove’ you wrong.”

Gretel let his words register. Then she recalled what he said about the tangerine hatchling having been abandoned for being powerful enough to challenge the alpha’s heir. “So if you are strong enough to stand up to the alpha, you get attacked and left alone to die…?”

“If you and the alpha’s heir are both female, then yeah,” he replied, and Gretel noticed that the shift in topic seemed to be a welcome distraction for him.

“I don't understand. What does gender have to do with anything?”

“You don't know…? Revealer societies are matriarchies. Females are the alphas; if the matriarch has a son--like me, except 'well-behaved’--then a powerful unrelated female like the hatchling you mentioned would probably be ‘betrothed’ to him and become the next alpha when she's old enough. But if the matriarch has a daughter, and is determined for her bloodline to keep reign over their society--which is more common than it should be, given how the strongest actually have the right to challenge their rulership--she'll likely do anything to prevent her daughter's position from being overtaken by a stronger unrelated female... even if it means harming or exiling an innocent hatchling.”

"You mean it was the alpha who harmed this hatchling, and not her parents?"

"Well, yeah. But the parents were probably given an ultimatum afterward: abandon their hatchling, or be killed and exiled along with their hatchling. If her parents valued their life in society, they had no choice but to leave her out here to die."

Gretel’s frown only deepened. “I can’t understand why anyone would choose to live life in a society, if that's what societies are like...”

“Hey, now. Societies aren't always a bad thing,” Clay chuckled half-heartedly as he reentered the grotto, revealing himself to have been eavesdropping. He was followed inside by Wren.

“Then why did you leave yours?” Gretel asked him curiously. All of the other three dragons tensed. The wyvern glanced between them, utterly confused. “What?”

“Gretel, I know you grew up solitary, but… like I said before, societies have a lot of unspoken expectations,” Efron gently reminded his friend. “One of those expectations is to get a read on how someone feels about certain topics, so you know whether or not to bring them up in their presence.”

“Uh… what are you talking about? Bring what up?”

“Judging by how Clay reacted when you asked him about how many hatchlings he had, I think his life in society is a sore topic for him… So maybe we shouldn't bring it up around him, okay?”

The juvenile dragoness frowned. “That's so… complicated,” she muttered. “Sorry if I was insensitive… but I didn't think questions were a bad thing for social dragons.”

“Questions aren't a bad thing at all,” Wren corrected her. “It's the type of questions that matter. That goes for solitary dragons as well, if we're interacting with others for whatever reason.”

“I don't get why asking him about his society is a bad thing when that’s the focus of discussion, though. I'm trying to socialize that way. I thought social dragons would enjoy talking about their societies.”

“Look: I get it,” Wren laughed somewhat awkwardly. “Societal rules are hard to understand, and us solitary types have all of the freedom to say what we want because we live alone. But because social dragons live with others, they have to learn how not to upset others. Right, Clay?”

The other adult didn't seem to have heard anything past what Gretel had asked. He was staring solemnly at the ground.

Gretel instantly felt remorse upon seeing how deeply her thoughtless question had affected him. “Clay, I'm sorry… I won't bring up your society anymore, alright?”

The water type lifted his head to respectfully meet her gaze. “Oh–it's alright, little lady. I've lived a solitary life here on this island for around seven years now, ever since my youngest left with her mate to start her own pod,” he admitted with a reassuring smile despite the sadness she detected in his voice. “Truth be told, it's a lot more peaceful to be on your own than it is to live in a society.”

I'll bet, Gretel agreed, but didn't risk saying that aloud.

“But as I'm sure you're aware of, there's comfort to be had in friendships. That's why I chose this island to settle on: the inhabitants here are solitary, but if you earn their trust, they're the most loyal friends one could ever hope for.”

“Really?”

“From my experience with you, Gretel, I'd say so,” Efron concurred with a small smile as he wiped the drying tears from his eyes.

Gretel felt somewhat guilty from the compliment. I'm not much of a friend, given how often I made Efron defensive about revealer hunting methods and their historical tales… Have I really been that insensitive all this time?

“I appreciate how blunt you are, little lady. You don't sugarcoat your thoughts, and you're not afraid to question things,” Clay continued, more optimistically this time. “I respect that.”

The wind type perked up. “So you'll tell me why you left your society after all?”

He laughed. “This isn't the time or place for that. Let's focus on making sure your friend recovers, ‘kay?”

“Oh, alright,” she pouted.