Vakandi Foredldri rather liked his simple cave. The cave sat on an incline down the mountain, which kept it dry in all weather and prevented bitter chilly rain from getting in. It even had a large second cavern. He spent some time smoothing out the stalagmites on the main path to the second cavern. Winters were still cold, but with some burning trees thrown in at the entrance cavern, it would push off some of the chill. The winters were the only reason he became tempted to leave this area. Every time during a snowfall, he got tempted again, but then the sun would rise over the hills. Even if it was snow, he thought the light glistening off it was beautiful. A sign that spring would come again and soon. Today the air felt better, crisp, as if warmer days were soon to come.

The beauty of the sun became interrupted as a trail of smoke rose from the Black Forest in the east. Fire in that forest would spread extremely quickly with the fauna which grew there. Taking flight, he went to help put it out, to keep peace in the valley, as well as prevent any of the death magic from emitting from the plants when they were burnt. The smell would agitate his throat and give him a painful headache for months. The forest evergreens were lush, but he could see movement near the fire. A small group of twenty people, a mix of dwarves, humans, and orcs, all wrapped up in furs to shave off the cold air.

He grumbled at seeing them and was not in the mood to deal with the foolish adventurers. He let their idiocy be the death of them instead of fighting them out for invading his land. People only want to change the land and take from it, never giving back. Their greed for land created all of their problems of war and disease. He could go hide in the comfort of his cave and wait out the fire for a few weeks.

As he turned around, he heard the deep shouts of a few men and higher ones of the women. He summoned a simple shield around him, bracing for their attacks. Bit by bit, their screams unified into a chanting word.

“Dragon! Dragon!”

Glancing back, the smoke fire puffed in and out in streams to signal him. They jumped up and down; they smiled up at him. He had seen this trap before and flew away to find the roaming bison herd for a simple meal that would be poison free. If any of the people ate from the plentiful berries, roots, and mushrooms in the Black Forest, their blood would become toxic if he ate them later. They were not like the animal of the forest who had adapted to eating and processing the noxious food. Later that evening, their fire remained small and did not burn down the forest. They waved hello to him again, and with his shield up, he dare to peek closer at the people through the evergreen and bare of leaves trees of the forest. Only one dwarf carried a pickaxe and had apparently worked hard most of the day with how there four small overhangs for them to sleep in.

For the second time, the people did not shoot up at Vakandi. He puffed a bit of smoke and flew back to his cave. Instead of sleeping, he waited in the first chamber for the foolish adventurers to appear and attack his small hoard. He gathered it from goblins and other foolish adventurers. The next day arrived with peace. The sunrise of the day again had the smoke line interrupting it again. Scouting again, with his magic shield up, he flew over the people. No screams or shouts greeted him. Instead, only silence as a pyre construction began far from their dug alcoves. Vakandi had seen this before. Any of the orcs or dwarves who came through the forest would be sick for a day or two because of the toxins of the fauna they ate. The humans could not handle them and would die. Three of the twenty had passed.

The bodies were not on the pyres, though. In the morning, they bathed the dead in the frigid river. They remained focused on their task. Far away from the river and their home, they carried their dead and left them in small dug out holes, and exposed for the crows, vultures, and wolves. For three days, the wildlife picked the bones while the people finished building the pyre. In the evening of the third, they brought back whatever remained and put them on the pyre. For the first time since they arrived in the Black Forest, did their campfire burn out. Only the stars and moon shined down on them.

Vakandi stood near the edge of the forest, listening to find out if the rest of the group still lived. They sang and danced around, simple spells of magic illuminated near them, and they laughed in their mugs. Throughout the entire night, they celebrated. At the first peak of gray in the world, they gathered at the pyres where the remains of their dead were and waited. One human held on to a torch, staring off in the distance where the sun would rise. The moment it broke the horizon, he approached and lit the pyre. All of them chanted the names of their fallen, offering it up to the sun, stars, wind, land, and the river; to the cycle of all magic. Honoring all magics from death to life and back again.

Vakandi felt the magic open up to them, to embrace the offering. If the traveling group stayed, the magic would bless those back. Only the most ancient of beings knew this fact. To see people doing it was unheard of. A jealous pang filled him as the burning pyre sent waves of magic out, which echoed into his own flame magic within. The wave of a grander cycle of the world that only he and a few other immortals watched. Dragons were born, observed, and died after a very long time. But rarely did they die of old age, hunted by the adventurers or other beasts. His life would never be a round circle like theirs, but become a jagged point that sticks out like the shape of his scales.

The people wisely choose to not stay. They packed up and to leave, unsure of what they could eat safely. The dwarf complained, pointing to the soil, talking about its deep composition. The others shook their head. To avoid being noticed and disturbing their voyage, he took to flight. The smell of the death strong in the air. The wood they used to burn the bodies had been from the forest, laced with a bit of toxin, making his throat agitated as the death magic attacked his life. He was a dragon of fire and life, not death. The Black Forest made this land undesirable by the more powerful beasts who aligned with life magic instead of death. The Black Forest was vulnerable with how easily it burned too, especially with a fire dragon nearby.

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Weakened by the toxins and with death in the air, the troop of people became easy picking for those who lived in the forest, such as the wolves. Their howls shook the trees and sent fear into those of weak bodies. Wolves began their typical hunting that never bothered Vakandi, and he easily ignored them.

The people could not.

Their cries interrupted the normal day to day of the life. Or maybe it was no different, since they were the prey being attacked by the wolf. The prey rarely ever goes silent as a pack of wolves stalking them. It cries and alerts others of its kind, to beg for help or to warn them they were also in danger. The people would be no different. They were only completing a cycle of life.

The deep rumble of the earth when the pickaxe swung down at the wolves from the dwarf drew Vakandi’s attention as a yip of a dog followed it. The rest of the pack fought back and attacked his leg. People screamed and Vakandi did not understand why only a small fire or druidic magic was used. Hardly anything to actually kill the beasts. Where were the swords, the bows and arrows? An axe swung slowly at the attackers, with no accuracy.

Vakandi grumbled and wanted the magic to save them. But the magic stayed silent, not returning their blessing yet. It was naïve of him to think the magic would hasten. He had been meditating and serving it for years and knew how it behaved. Instead of listening to the magic’s response, he acted on his own heart and landed near the people, toppling the trees. The presence of a full grown dragon alone silenced the wolves and people. His roar was enough to cause the wolves to tuck tail and run before the true alpha predator ate them.

Only a few people whimpered. An orc holding the axe dropped it as she approached, knowing it would be foolish if he attacked the dragon. The smell of fear rolled off her, but so did an undertone of hope. “Great dragon, thank you!”

Vakandi closed his mouth. He anticipated fear and begging, but instead, they quickly grasped that the fire dragon was their savior, which was surprising. Dragons attacked kingdoms for the gold, gems, and magical items, because they could. It was fun to show off one’s strength and remind the people they were below them.

Now, no one revered him by bowing. They smiled and returned to their kind to take care of them, done with the mythical beast. The dwarf was in the worse state and asked to be carried over to the dragon. “You have my thanks. Any longer and they would have gone for my gullet.”

“Where are your warriors and fighters?”

“Back in our old home, Kirrad.” Answered the orc.

“And where is your new home?” Vakandi studied each of the faces. They were diverse in age and only one carried a child. To travel so far from an underground dwarven city, no wonder they were ill prepared for the land above them.

“Well,” the orc glanced down at the dwarf and back up. “Guess it will be here with our current state if you welcome us.”

Vakandi sighed. The innocence of these people would be the death of them. They should stay nearby where they honor the magics, and they would become blessed and plentiful, but the Black Forest was not the place for them. “Follow me. There is a valley near a river where you can begin.”

He walked ahead of the people, knocking over the trees and smoothing out the path. The light pierced down on areas of the Black Forest for the first time in a while. The blue sky danced with clouds that called out to Vakandi to fly among them, but he practiced his patience on the people behind him. They were slower than he expected, but he forgave them as they took care of the woman with child and the injured dwarf a few times. The orc cleared her throat.

“My name is Lash of the Azure Stone clan. Guess it’s just Lash now, this is my clan now. Things for us have changed. What can we call you?”

Vakandi pondered on the request and its true meaning. These people had left their nest and could not even fly. They needed guidance before others took advantage of them. “Vakandi Foredldri.”

“Thank you, Vakandi Foredldri, for everything you have done. Not sure why you are helping us. Everything I’ve heard about dragons is that we should be your dinner by now.” She laughed. “Or is that a lie to keep people away from you?”

“We do like our privacy.” He avoided admitting if dragons ate people. “But maybe I should follow your lead and change.”

After a day of walking, the trees finally thinned out, and he pointed to the valley below, a place that could easily turn into farms. His own cave in the mountain was rich in minerals the dwarves would love to collect. They could build their homes out of the river stones and have fresh water. “Will this work?”

The dwarf ordered someone to dig a hole. Vakandi lowered his head and addressed the dwarf. “What is it you’re looking for?”

“To get a sense of the mineral composition of the area. Seems like a bunch of clay out that way where there are a few trees.” Finally, a core was dug out and, using a hastily made crutch, hobbled over to look at it. With a nod, he looked at Lash. “This place will do.”

The people celebrated, and Lash patted Vakandi’s ankle. “Vakandi, you are our Life Giver! We will do our best to respect your land and be good neighbors.”

“Yes! Names Bedruk Oresword.” He pointed to his chest. "I wouldn’t mind if you help haul some river stones for us with that baffling strength of yours. Especially with how my leg is now. I can’t mine or build like this!”

Lash frowned, but Bedruk, and all the other people had a smile on their face. Everyone pointed to where the best place to settle would be, close to the river, but far enough they could expand. They marked where the first twelve homes would be built, forming a single ring with a very large open central area for a plaza. Lash took a hold of Bedruk’s pickaxe and broke the earth, her swing was very clumsy and messy, but she was bound to get a lot more practice soon.

After just five minutes, she already paused stretching her back. “I think the others are in agreement with me, but would you mind offering a name for our clan?”

Of course, all creatures sought Vakandi’s wise wisdom, especially in such a high importance matter. They were already looking toward him as a guardian. He wanted to give them a name from his language. Neighbors was an odd word when he could already tell they would require more than a cup of sugar regularly. They did not posses the power of a warrior, they needed something else.

“Vakfored. I think call you that would be very befitting with how everything is.”

Only Bedruk Oresword laughed and he kept it secret what the name meant. “For that, I am going to make you use those sharp claws and dig. At the rate Lash is going and chit chatting, we won’t be sleeping anywhere warm and dry for months.”

Vakandi grumbled and questioned his choice. Digging in the earth was not something he had done since he was a hatchling. It was something the young and people did, not a full grown dragon. Yet for the next week, he helped them and talked to them. Listened to their songs, and smiled as they thanked him, even when he supplied shade to for them from the sun. They danced under his wings as a way for him to join.

Each day, the people got up and praised the sun, snow, or rain, embracing the day given to them. A day used to pass by quickly, but now they slowed down and he got to see everything new and fresh through their eyes.