It was a cold, frigid night. and a terrible wind tore through the valley as winter fell like a hammer upon the small town nestled in-between the two valley walls.

A hundred or so houses in neat rows collectively organized with all the efficiency of a meticulous city planner with little social life and something to prove- which is to say, surprisingly so.

The town had recently grown twice in size. A little over three hundred souls lived in it now. A prolonged conflict between two tribes ended by diplomacy, and now there was unity, peace. And in this partially new and partially old town, two figures covered in silver scales talked in the night as snow fell.

Drakon. Two of them. Young, not children- at least by a Drakon's standards. They laid on a bed of snow atop a longhouse's roof. The cold did not bother them. The Drakon are a species of dragon-like humanoids created for war. Covered in silver scales that turn away daggers, and made freezing temperatures into a cool breeze. Their hands clawed. Their mouths? More a maw then mouth, full of teeth made to rend flesh and bone—the teeth of a predator.

They were large enough to dwarf most races, standing over two meters tall. But even while sporting their height and strength, they were a pale mimicry of real dragons, and far inferior to their legendary ancestors. Yet still, they carried a piece of that legend with them, albeit a small piece.

"Asgar?"

"Yes, Argus?"

The first Drakon, Argus, took a moment to form his thoughts. "You have heard the saying, 'By the skin of my teeth' before. yes?"

"I have heard this said at least once today," Asgar replied with a wry grin.

Argus snorted, then continued. "why is this a saying?"

"what do you mean?"

"There is no skin on my teeth."

Silence reigned for a moment, "but there is skin that...attaches them to the mouth?"

"Yes, but it is not on the teeth."

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"No, I suppose not."

"I think this saying is ridiculous."

"...I think you are right."

Argus breathed out, satisfied in being right. His cold breath left no frost in the air. He wasn't cold despite laying in a bed of snow in the dead of winter, neither was his brother. Their ancestry was that of the great Frost Dragons, who delighted in the north's great tundras and were supposedly harbingers of winter itself. Had it been much warmer, their breath would have come out in cones of fog only to fall to the ground- or in this case, roof, below them.

A more solemn mood took Asgar. "Is your's ready?"

Argus crooked a brow at his brother. "Yes, I am ready." He tilted his head at his brother. "Are you not? Do you need help?"

Asgar shook his head, "I have it; it just feels... incomplete."

Argus hummed, thinking. "Have you tried talking to Father? or Zezda Velrez?"

"No, It doesn't feel quite right to do so, I feel it should be mine alone."

Another stretch of silence, made busy for all the words not being said between the two Drakon in deep thought over one issue.

They were sitting atop the roof of a humble building, a wooden exterior built on a solid stone foundation, and made to accommodate a crowd.

A crowd to witness the giving of an Oath, easily five times the surrounding houses' size. They'd be inside it tomorrow, to write down and speak the words that might shape the rest of their lives. To be seen by their tribe, before an altar to their God.

Asgar shivered, and not from the cold. He had an idea. He could almost imagine what he wanted to say. But it never felt quite right, and he couldn't quite wrap his hands around the shape to make it tangible. He knew the intent, but not the words.

Argus looked at his brother, mild concern written on his face.

"Come, brother, mother said there would be boar tonight, a celebration. It will be good." He rested an arm on his brother's shoulder. "I will be with you all the way. Let us go home for tonight. yes?"

Asgar nodded and pushed himself into a slide off the thatch roof. He landed with a wet thump in the snow.

"Not that I am tired of it, but does it seem like there are many more boars lately? particularly for this winter."

His brother followed him moments later, landing with a twin thump. Then walking up behind Asgar and throwing an arm over his shoulders.

"I agree, we will have to find a way to deal with the overpopulation. To ham, brother! We shall defeat this powerful enemy together. The tribes will know our names as great heroes!"

"Father already defeated the boar, are we to be heroes just for eating it?" Asgar glanced at his brother, skeptically.

"No, for eating more than any other Drakon could! we shall be known as Asgar and Argus, the boundless stomachs." Argus said, with a perfect poker face while his brother groaned good-naturedly.