The next few weeks passed in a blur, as Valen spent all of his time either completing his chores or helping to care for the Highborn they had brought into the Hatchery. Of course, one of the first things he decided to address was the fact that they could not simply continue calling the new wyvern ‘the new wyvern,’ when they spent all of their time raising the creatures. Already the confusion had caused a few simple mistakes, but Valen intended to nip any further issues in the bud.

Which meant that he had to name the Highborn, a task that any wyvern breeder, in training or otherwise, would never take lightly. For drakes, a name carried with it something powerful – a special kind of connection to the world around them. It helped to ground them, for reasons no one really understood.

That included wyverns and dragons.

So, during the first week that Valen spent working with the new wyvern, he mulled over a great many possible names. It became a more difficult task than he could have imagined. For some reason, the more names he tried to come up with, the worse he felt about each one. He did not know why he was struggling so much when he should have just settled on a name and moved on.

Yet struggle he did, until one week became two, then three, and then before long a month had passed and still he could not decide on a name for the Highborn. He didn't understand why he was struggling so hard with the decision, only that it was bothering him more than anything had in a long time.

He supposed he just had to be thankful that the wyvern was making such a quick recovery. Certainly, their flight bond had become stronger at an incredible pace. The name would come, in time.

Until it did, however, he would continue spending whatever time that he could thinking on it, which was what he was doing while completing one of his chores just outside of the Great Roost when his sister came racing out of their house. As soon as she spotted Valen, working to repair some damage to the wall of a tool shed, she came hurrying over to him, looking very concerned.

“Valen! Ma needs you!” she exclaimed, and Valen realized he had mistaken excitement for concern. Sighing, he stepped away from the wall, turning to face Hera fully.

“What are you on about, Hera?” he sighed, doing his best not to let his annoyance show. He wanted to get back to the as-yet-unnamed wyvern as soon as possible, so any delay now would only shorten his time with the drake even more. His sister, however, either didn't notice or didn't care; despite his failure to keep his frustration at the interruption from his voice, she was completely unfazed.

He supposed that, at fourteen, that was still alright.

“I said, Ma needs your help. Or someone’s help, anyways. You were just the first person I saw,” she replied, bouncing on her heels with barely contained energy. Now genuinely wondering what was going on, Valen set aside the tools he’d been working with and then followed Hera back to the house, though his sister continued to speed up, get too far ahead, and then slow down so that he could catch up again.

When they got inside, the old wooden door creaking open unhappily, he could hear the whining of a hatchling all the way from the front of the house. Eyes widening, it was his turn to speed up, rushing past his sister and through the large common area towards the back of the house, where his parents’ room was.

He pushed through into the small washroom that his mother had insisted on keeping years ago when Pa had wanted to turn it into another storage space. Inside, he found his mother washing Aevra, the hatchling he had been playing with when Aiden had come searching for him the day they discovered the wounded Highborn. What alarmed him, however, was the injury that Aevra had apparently sustained, a deep cut in her left thigh. She squealed in pain as Valen’s mother, Vela, did her best to clean it out.

His brain automatically switching into overdrive, the wyvern caretaker inside of him taking over as he dropped down beside his mother.

“What happened?” he demanded, though of course he meant no disrespect – if there was one thing he, Aiden and his father all shared, it was an intense focus that came over them when something happened to one of the wyverns under their care. Vela and Hera both understood that, which was why his mother replied without hesitation.

“She wandered out of the Great Roost, though I have no idea how she managed to get out without her mother noticing. She came over near the house and ended up hurting herself back by one of the sheds,” she explained. For a moment, Valen stopped, knowing that the last person as far as he was aware to use the small building out back was himself, when he went to retrieve a toolkit that very day for his chores.

Yet he quickly calmed his thoughts – he knew he had shut and latched the door. This was not his fault. Any number of things could have happened to cause the cut in Aevra’s thigh, but that should not even be his concern yet. For now all that mattered was treating the wound and making sure the little wyvern was alright.

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Aevra, for her part, seemed to be toughing it out fairly well, though anytime Vela’s hand drew a bit too close to the actual wound her face bent into an angry snarl. If she was not going to let his mother treat that cut, then Valen would just have to force the issue. This time it was far easier to reach down to the sensitive spot he had used to subdue the Highborn a month ago, and as the little whelp’s body shuddered and went limp, he quickly gripped her leg and bent into the water with his other side, wrapping his arm around her chest to make sure she couldn’t move away.

When Aevra recovered from her limp state, she could not get away from Vela’s ministrations, though she began to squeal in panic, acting as though they were trying to do her further harm. Immediately, Valen began to hope that her mother was not able to hear Aevra’s cries. Though the whelp was not in any real danger, if she thought she was due to the noises the young wyvern was making…

Well, that was why the Matriarch was there. She would prevent any angry mothers from attacking the house out of protective instinct. Hopefully.

A couple of minutes later, with no attack from the wyvern’s mother forthcoming, they finished cleaning and binding the wound in the hatchling’s leg and pulled her out of the water. Valen tried to be careful, knowing that if Aevra thrashed about as she cried out and tried to leap free of his restraining arms, she would only hurt herself more. Now that they were no longer tending to the gash in her leg, however, the hatchling seemed to be calming down. She still did not enjoy being kept from leaping free and wandering off as unattended hatchlings were wont to do, but Valen, Vela and Hera didn’t care too much.

The priority was to make sure that she was returned safely to the Great Roost and the care of her mother.

“Valen…” a quiet voice called, and it took him a moment to realize that it was his sister Hera who had spoken. Turning, still keeping a good grip on the young wyvern’s body, he raised a brow, silently asking her what she wanted.

“Do you think… I could hold her?” Hera asked, haltingly, as if she wasn’t sure why she was asking the question.

Valen looked over at his mom, who simply smiled as she leaned against the wall, taking some deep breaths now that the rush of it all had ended.

“Valen, can I hold her?” Hera repeated, this time speaking more clearly, her confusion at his pause enough to take the weird nerves from her voice. Mind returning to the moment, he looked at Hera, then at Aevra, and then back and forth once more before sighing and nodding.

“Yes, Hera, but you have to be careful, especially with her wound. She’s going to want to get away from you, so be ready to keep her still,” Valen finished. Hera nodded determinedly, and so after only another few seconds of reluctant hesitation, Valen stepped closer to his sister and carefully handed the young wyvern whelp to her.

Her grip was careful but firm as she did her best to copy the gentle strength with which she had always seen her brothers and parents handle young wyverns. Valen was pleasantly surprised by how natural it seemed for her, and he turned to look at his mother, eyes wide. He could tell from the surprise on her face that she was just as shocked as him.

A few moments later, all three of them started out from the washroom, slipping through the house and then back out the front door, so that they could bring little Aevra back to her mother.

“It looks like we may have a natural caretaker on our hands, Ma,” he remarked as they went, before grinning at his sister. Hera allowed herself a proud smile before turning her full attention to the young wyvern. Even more surprising was the way that Aevra seemed to settle and completely calm down in his sister’s arms. Valen noticed the approving looks their mother kept sending her way.

“I see how it is,” Valen scoffed playfully, giving the wyvern a mock-angry face before chuckling and turning to resume their walk towards the Great Roost. With Hera and Ma close behind him, he pushed the door open and stepped into the huge building – and immediately knew that something was wrong. There was a tension in the air, and it sent shivers down Valen’s spine.

That was when he caught the smell of blood in the air, the overwhelmingly coppery taste invading his senses. Aevra hissed and began wriggling wildly, trying to get out of Hera’s arms. Her panicked movements scratched up his sister’s arms pretty badly, but somehow she kept her grip firm and the whelp could not escape.

“Mam, Hera, go and find Da or Aiden. Now,” Valen whispered. Despite the quiet with which he spoke, the force of his words was not diminished.

"Valen, are you sure?" Ma whispered, gripping his shoulder with enough force to demand his attention. He turned back towards her and smiled with as much false confidence as he could muster before nodding.

"I might not know what's going on, but I do know that at least one of us needs to be here and... I have the most experience working hands on with the wyverns here between the three of us," he replied. Biting her lip before finally releasing him and nodding, Ma and Hera took off, hurrying as quickly and quietly as they could to find the others.

Valen knew his duty right now and knew that his first priority was the wellbeing of the wyverns. Things were almost totally silent, yet he could hear the quiet but deep rumbling of growls from most of the nests, or occasionally a shrill cry from one nest to another, wyvern mothers communicating in tones that Valen could tell immediately meant that danger was close.

Then he heard voices, two of them, coming from the far end of the vast building. Valen went completely still for just a moment, before dropping as low as he could get while still staying on his feet. Creeping through the massive building, he knew right away that the smell of blood was coming from the direction of the voices. It was growing stronger the closer he got to them Staying behind cover as much as possible, he finally saw the source of the voices when he stepped around a large stack of crates – and his blood ran cold.

There, no more than a couple of yards away, sat a huge black dragon, half again as large as the average wyvern. Its scales were as dark as a shadow, and it was saddled and adorned in dull steel armor. The beast was more than threatening; it was downright terrifying.

And in that moment, as Valen saw it, it turned and saw him.