The crying came from the side of the lying carcass as if the dead creature had crushed someone with its weight. I peered into the face of the dead dragon. It was not Cryonax. The features were smoother, not so rough, and not so frightening. I had not seen the face of Pironax, but I could say with certainty that this was not Cryonax’s older brother. Most likely, it could be his sister. A more elongated face, smoother lines. Beautiful coloring of scales, like a fashionable dress made of golden-green sequins. Huge bloody scratches on the body, wings torn to shreds. From Vulgaris’s story, I knew his sister remained in the old world. I tried to imagine this dragon's appearance when he was alive. Or was he still alive?

“What do we have here?” Tarnis asked, entering the cave. His face wrinkled at the pungent smell. “Ugh! How it stinks in here!”

“Yes, it’s the smell of death,” I replied, trying to make out the massive carcass of the dragoness in the semi-darkness. “Look how brutally he beat her.”

“Her?!” Tarnis asked, peering at the bloody outlines.

“Well, that’s obvious, Tarnis. You’ve seen Cryonax, haven’t you? The features here are smoother, and the lines of the muzzle are refined, not so rough, and frightening. Only females have that.”

“I saw him like I saw Pyronax,” he nodded. “You’re right, it’s a dragoness. She bled to death, that’s for sure. This is further proof that another dragon can only kill a dragon. Look at those wounds, long, like claws had dug into her flesh and her bones.”

Tarnis walked around the body, examining the gaping wounds and the wing fragments scattered around the cave.

“That’s what I’m doing,” he muttered, leaning closer. “Some kind of brutal fight.”

A strange shudder ran through me. “The smells are giving me auditory hallucinations. I can hear a child crying.”

Tarnis sat up. “I can hear it too.”

We exchanged glances. In the cave's stillness, a faint plaintive sound could be heard, as if someone was sobbing deep within the cave wall.

“This isn’t just a burrow,” Tarnis said, examining the smooth walls. — “Look, everything is too smooth as if someone had pierced the hill with an enormous ball.”

Tarnis agreed, but the little furry creature suddenly became stubborn.

“What if I get eaten in there?”

“Who’s going to eat you? Are you some kind of delicacy?”

Tina, eager to end our bickering, volunteered to scout ahead herself. She perched on my shoulder, watching as I strained with effort. I pressed my back against the wall, wrapping my arms around the dragoness’s head. To our surprise, her head wasn’t as heavy as we had imagined.

I took a deep breath, gathering my strength, and approached her head slowly. The scales, cold to the touch, felt like I was handling not just a lifeless body, but an ancient being whose story had ended too soon. I carefully cradled her massive head, trying not to disturb the bloody wounds, as if fearing I might disrupt her eternal slumber.

“All right, let’s begin,” I whispered, more to myself than to Tarnis and Tina, who were watching me.

I braced my back against the cool stone wall and slowly, inch by inch, began to push the dragoness aside. Tension gripped my entire body—I felt every muscle working to its limit, but I tried not to use excessive force, so as not to disturb the strange calm that surrounded us.

She was heavy, but not as much as we had thought. Her head moved a bit easier than I expected, yet every shift felt like awakening some ancient mechanism better left undisturbed. Slowly, like turning a page in an old book, I moved her, making sure not to push too hastily. Each of my movements was filled with the fear of breaking something irreparable, as though I could disturb not just dead flesh but her very spirit.

“Just a bit more,” I whispered, feeling the massive neck give way, giving us a chance to peer inside.

I held my breath as a small gap appeared, wide enough for Tina to slip through. She peered inside, then glanced back at me, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and excitement.

“All right, Tina, your turn,” I said, letting go of the dragoness’s head and feeling the tension leave my body. I stepped back, staring at the heavy creature, almost apologizing for disturbing her final rest.

The little creature deftly slipped into the narrow opening, and soon, Tina’s excited voice echoed from the darkness:

“There’s a hatchling in here!”

Excitement and curiosity shot through me, and I immediately called out, “Bring it here!”

I readied myself to receive the unusual find, extending my hands, but my joy quickly turned to disappointment as Tina said with a hint of regret, “It won’t fit through the gap, it’s too big.”

A pang of worry hit me. The gap was indeed narrow, and the hatchling was much larger than I had imagined. I tensed, trying to widen the passage, but Tina was adamant, her voice firmer: “We need more space.”

Determination surged within me, and I grabbed hold of the dead dragoness. Her scaled armor, which had seemed soft and pliable, was rigid and unyielding, like the finest steel. I felt her cold, inflexible structure beneath my fingers, and suddenly, the brazen grin of Vulgaris flashed in my mind, bragging about how he’d destroyed the homes of poor peasants, reveling in their helplessness.

Anger and resolve mingled inside me, making my heart beat faster. A hidden strength, buried deep within, rose to the surface, reminding me of the merciless power now flowing through my veins. With a fury I could barely contain, I gathered all my skill and strength, and the dragoness’s body yielded as if surrendering to some ancient magic. Bones cracked, as though they weren’t dragon ribs but brittle branches.

With a heavy, triumphant exhale, I shifted her, clearing the passage until her chest opened enough to let the hatchling through. For a moment, the space filled with the scent of ash and metal, but it didn’t matter. Before me was now a life path, hidden behind those ribs.

Tina, watching my efforts, took a step back, her eyes shining with admiration and hope.

“Is that enough now?” I asked, stepping aside and glancing toward the opening.

Tina didn’t respond; she was busy gently nudging the hatchling out of its earthen trap. The moment of meeting the rescued creature was filled with anticipation—a mix of fear and joy. As soon as I cleared the passage, the little dragoness emerged, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. She froze in place, pressing herself tightly against the wall as if trying to blend in with the stone. Her body trembled, and her wings twitched nervously as if they were ready to spread and carry her away from these strange beings she had never seen before.

Tush and Tina, observing her with curiosity, were as much a mystery to her as I was. The small, fluffy creatures with their large, shiny eyes and quick movements appeared completely foreign and frightening to her. The dragoness let out a quiet hiss as if warning us not to come closer. Her emerald and gold scales glimmered faintly, but she seemed weak and vulnerable, like a small animal trapped in a cage.

Her gaze darted between us and the still form of her mother lying nearby. In the little dragoness’s eyes, there was a raw terror mixed with bewilderment—she couldn’t understand what had happened and didn’t know what to expect from us. Slowly, with effort, she took a step forward but immediately stopped, as if realizing she couldn’t return to the mother who could no longer protect her.

Tears glistened on her cheeks, and she trembled, trying to hide behind her wings, which were still too small to fully cover her. The dragoness glanced at us with caution, ready to flee at any moment. But where could she go? Where to run when everything around seemed foreign and hostile?

I slowly dropped to one knee, trying to appear as unthreatening as possible.

“It’s okay, we won’t hurt you,” I said softly, extending a hand. But the dragoness only pressed harder against the stone, her body shaking with quiet sobs.

She looked again at her mother, and her eyes filled with despair and bitterness. It was clear that the loss was irreparable for her. She couldn’t understand—why her mother no longer moved, or who we were and what we wanted from her. Only fear and loneliness surrounded her like a cold mist, and at that moment, I realized she needed help and protection but was too afraid to trust us.

The little dragoness let out a quiet sob, her tail flicking nervously to the side, and she finally took a timid step forward, still keeping her distance. She lowered her head cautiously as if trying to hide her tears and vulnerability. It was hard to look at her and not feel the same pain that tore at her heart.

We stood before this frightened creature, who had just lost everything dear to her, and understood that from now on, our task was to become what she had lost: her support, her protection, and her new family. The dragoness was as tall as me, but now she seemed much smaller—her body weakened by hunger, and each step was a struggle. Her wings quivered like those of a wounded bird, hanging lifelessly along her body. She carefully took a few steps, stumbling on every uneven surface, her claws scraping against the stones and leaving thin scratch marks. Curling up tightly, she whimpered softly, her exhausted wings trembling like autumn leaves in the wind. Her large, tear-filled eyes looked at the world with hurt and confusion. Like crystal drops of dew, her tears slowly rolled down her golden scales, leaving wet trails behind.

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She tried to wipe her tears with her tiny paws, but each time her claws touched her eyes, the tears flowed even more. Occasionally, her lips quivered as she tried to suppress a new burst of sobs, only making her cries more bitter and helpless. The sounds she made resembled a quiet mumbling as if she were trying to find words to explain why her little heart hurt so much, but she couldn’t.

When she finally looked at me, I could see the depth of childlike despair and hope for comfort in her gaze. The dragoness’s eyes were wet; she had been crying for a long time, even though she knew tears wouldn’t help. Those eyes were full of sorrow and exhaustion, and they carried the bitterness of loneliness. She turned her head toward me, and I saw a shiver run through her body as if she were both afraid and hopeful at the same time. For a moment, it seemed as though she was looking straight into my soul, pleading for help.

Her scales, though glistening with gold and emerald, were covered with a thin layer of dust and dirt, and some had faded and lost their former shine. She must have tried to break free, as there were scratches on her sides where the scales had cracked.

I slowly approached, careful not to make any sudden movements. She pressed against the wall like a cornered animal, but there was a flicker of hope in her eyes. I slowly knelt, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"It's okay, we won't hurt you," I said softly, extending my hand, but the dragoness only pressed closer to the stone, her body trembling with quiet sobs.

The dragoness still watched us warily, trembling with fear and inner struggle. But then Tina, seizing the moment, stepped forward, her small body appearing tiny next to the nearly two-meter-tall dragoness. She approached and, purring softly like a small, trusting kitten, rubbed against the dragoness’s leg.

The dragoness froze, staring at the tiny fluffy creature. It seemed she didn't know how to react to such an unexpected show of friendliness. Her large eyes followed Tina's every move, who, despite the significant size difference, showed no fear and continued to rub affectionately against the scaly leg.

Soon, Tush joined Tina, just as tiny and fluffy, resembling a little plush toy. He softly approached and sat beside Tina, radiating warmth and calm. Their presence seemed to bring some peace, and the dragoness, recently full of anxiety, gradually began to relax.

She cautiously tilted her head and stretched her paw forward, lightly touching Tina's fluffy fur, as if testing whether it was safe. Tina purred softly, making a gentle, soothing sound, as if whispering, "It's okay, you're not alone."

The dragoness held her breath for a moment, then her muscles slowly began to relax. She allowed herself to lie down lower, almost pressing herself to the ground, and for the first time in a long while, felt something akin to peace.

I watched this scene with my heart in my throat. Tush and Tina, so small and cute, gave the dragoness a moment she so desperately needed—a moment of trust and warmth. Her gaze, now directed at me, was full not only of curiosity but also a tiny spark of hope. She took a step forward, cautiously and hesitantly, but now with a visible readiness to trust us.

I gently extended my hand and stroked her neck, feeling her skin warm slightly under my fingers. She didn’t recoil; instead, she seemed to accept the touch as confirmation of our willingness to help. We had taken the first step towards each other, and at that moment, I realized we had a real chance to become a new family for her.

Tarnis, standing behind me, also crouched, examining our unusual find.

"Do you think it was her crying?" he asked me.

"I have no doubt. Look at her eyes; they haven't dried from tears. Besides, the crying has stopped."

"Poor girl, she’s going to have a hard time now. We need to talk so that we're less heard."

We moved aside, not to disturb the little dragoness, who had finally found some peace near Tush and Tina. Tarnis, with a serious expression on his face, glanced around, then leaned closer and spoke in a quiet yet determined tone:

"What are we going to do with the hatchling? I understand leaving her here is not an option. But if her father shows up unexpectedly... it could end badly for all of us."

I looked at the little dragoness, who, still wary, clung trustingly to Tina. Her shining scales gleamed with emerald and gold, reminiscent of her mother’s armor.

"Yes, we can't take that risk. Leaving her here is certain death. We’ll take her with us. She’s too young to survive alone."

Tarnis frowned, trying to grasp the full complexity of the situation.

"And if her father shows up? We don’t know how he’ll react to his mate's death. What if he blames us for her demise?"

I pondered. It was indeed a problem. But I couldn't run, abandoning the hatchling we had just saved.

"If her father appears, we’ll have to explain everything as it is. We didn’t kill her mother; we were just witnesses to her death."

"You think a dragon we don’t know will just take your word for it? They aren’t known for their trustfulness."

I sighed, glancing around the gloomy cave walls. The smell of death and the bitterness of the recent battle lingered everywhere.

"We don’t have any other choice. But perhaps he’ll sense that we’re protecting his daughter. It could work in our favor."

Tarnis snorted softly as if doubting my optimism.

"You’re hoping for a miracle, my friend. But dragons don’t forgive the death of their own, even if it was in battle."

"I know. But this dragoness," I pointed to the small creature now snuggling with her fluffy friends, "needs us. And we need her. If her father comes, we’ll only have one thing left—to prove we’re not enemies."

Tarnis looked at the hatchling again and nodded, resigned to the situation.

"Alright. Let it be so. But be ready for the fact that we’ll have to prove it in practice. And hope we survive long enough to convince him."

I nodded back, understanding that from now on, our fate was intertwined with that of the little dragoness. And all that was left was to believe that our intentions would be understood when the time came.

The little dragoness refused to leave the cave for a long time, no matter how we tried to persuade her. She touched the lifeless head of her mother and cried constantly. I understood how hard it was for her to leave the one who had raised her and shielded her from misfortunes. She still hoped for a miracle, but the congealing blood and the flies buzzing in foul clouds proved otherwise.

I decided to explore the corridor struck by the meteorite and finally get to the "heavenly iron." The space pierced by the cosmic visitor was no more than five meters wide, and beyond it was a dirt slide blocking the path. The rock here was looser and had collapsed immediately.

I looked around, trying to comprehend the scale. “Is the village where the blacksmith Maleus lives far from here?”

“On foot — a week’s journey. With the help of Yurion — in about three days. Why do you ask?”

“I think I figured out how this cave appeared.” I remembered one of my conversations with Nix: “Remember, Nix and I got some Sky Iron? We landed a small meteorite. Most likely, it fell somewhere around here.”

Tarnis whistled, examining the gloomy walls. “If so, then it must be behind the dragoness’s body.”

We came closer, but the dragoness’s body lay across the passage, blocking the way. Her wings, torn to shreds, and the dead mass made any movement difficult.

“How are we going to move her from this place?” — I asked, looking at her massive body. “It’s as if she’s grown into the ground. Dead weight is always unyielding.”

“Maybe we should try to dig under her?” Tarnis suggested, but his voice didn’t sound confident. — “Although with her size and weight, it’s useless.”

"Magic?" I asked Tarnis. "Maybe you know some spell that can make an unbearable load weightless?" He shook his head.

“Even if Yurion can help, there’s a risk of the cave collapsing on us. We need something more reliable.”

We stood there in confusion until a pitiful cry reminded us that there was something else waiting for us inside the hill ahead.

“We can’t wait. Someone needs our help, maybe someone is suffocating from lack of air.”

“But what can we do?! Our strength is not enough here.” Tarnis exclaimed in confusion.

I scratched my forehead thoughtfully. How nice it would be if the giant I bought at the fair was walking around nearby. Together we did something.

“Can’t you call your friends — the stone worms?!”

I grabbed the amulet and closed my eyes. The king heard my request, but this time we would have to wait longer for help.

Then I suggested to Tarnis:

“I’ll push the dragoness away from the wall, and you watch, maybe a passage will open and we can go inside. Any loophole will do for Tush or Tina, and once inside they will be able to describe what they see.”

Child of the Dragon. [https://i.imgur.com/vXPUgFz.jpeg]