The sky was getting lighter as I waited. We all gathered in the clearing as we awaited the sunrise; we did this every morning – to sing the Morning Song.
We would rise on wing to sing in long melodious tones that rose and fell like an intricate choir as we flew in complex and random patterns around one another, trusting our reflexes to avoid mid-air collisions.
It was a thrilling dance that drove the body into complex acrobatics with the love of life. It was a song that woke the heart with joy and hope. It was both song and dance, and it was neither. It was the Morning Song.
We had done it ever since we could see the sun rising, even the day after our escape. The desire to fly and sing as the sun touched the horizon was so strong that it was almost as powerful as the desire to breathe.
If we tried, we could overrule the drive to join it, but we were fully aware of it and could feel it as we fought the blood-deep instinctive pull. It defined us more than our wings or our mindvoices; it united us in ways that words could not explain. A blue dragonet had managed to resist the call of the Morning Song for four days before finally giving in – and he never attempted it a second time.
I watched the sun start to peek over the horizon; it was only a matter of time until my heart demanded that I take to the air to greet the sun. Others were also watching with a stillness that wouldn’t last much longer.
I could feel it building in my heart; I had no human experience to compare it to. Several rose into the air with a trill of joy. I launched off the branch I was sitting on to join them, unable and unwilling to remain still and silent while the world awoke. I joined the others in an aerial display as I gave a long warble that somehow harmonized with the various chirps, trills, whistles, and other noises we made.
It was like I was drunk on life.
I could think of no greater joy than the Morning Song. I put my joy into my graceful and swift flight while I voiced the joyful emotions overflowing in my heart, telling the world all about it. The sun slowly rose as we put our hearts, bodies, and souls into welcoming it once again.
Within minutes, the sun cleared the horizon, and the force driving the Morning Song faded and disappeared. The flock split up as we all went our separate ways for the day. A few younger fledglings had grown too tired to fly and rested on the ground below us. Their parents dropped down to join them; they would head elsewhere once the fledglings had caught their breath.
As I flew up into the canopy, I spotted several Kymari who were watching our group disperse. We tried to pick a pretty secluded area away from the main walking paths, but even though we chose a different location every morning, it didn’t really help us at this point.
Mere months after we had snuck into the park, one of the Kymari heard our Song and had come to listen. Now, we seemed to have an audience seeking us every morning, regardless of where we sang. Like the most respectful of bird watchers, they kept their distance while sitting or standing as they watched and listened.
About fifty Kymari showed up every day; most were along the nearby paths, simply listening, while others subtly came closer to watch. Our singing and acrobatic display was unique, and they found it mesmerizing and fascinating.
Once we dispersed across the park for the day, we lost their attention. Occasionally, one would watch us in the park, but they paid us no more heed than they gave the fish in the ponds. We were pretty to look at, but they simply let us go about our business.
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I flew higher into the canopy as I put more distance between myself and our watchers. We all wished that they weren’t so taken with our Morning Song. We didn't want their attention, but we loved the Morning Song more than we cared if they chose to watch and listen from a distance.
They would scour the forest each morning until they either located our gathering location or heard our song. Once one of them found us, they alerted the other searchers as to our whereabouts. We preferred to hold the Morning Song in a clearing, preferably beside the trees, above the river, or along a rocky area where we could perch and watch the rising sun.
We changed the location every day, although we did tend to frequent certain areas. The park was only so big, after all. Our change of location didn't stop our audience from finding us; the Kymari were fast and nearly tireless. They would zigzag through the forest, checking the usual locations as well as other similar areas until they found us.
In the beginning, we had been in the middle of the Morning Song when we spotted the various aliens watching us from a distance. We had been quite nervous, but decided to continue our song, although we had been ready to scatter if we needed to. The pull of the Song was simply too great to break without immediate danger.
The Kymari got better at locating us as the weeks went by, although they had never intruded on our song or approached us as we flew and sang in the dance that we loved so much. We had reluctantly become accustomed to their distant presence. It was an odd unspoken truce; they didn't seem to mind our low-key presence in their park and we didn't try to overly hide our Morning Song from those who were seeking it.
We did try to avoid them the rest of the time, if possible. We had been caged once, and none of us wanted to repeat the experience. I shook my head as I thought about the Kymari lurking in the area. They still make me as nervous as a turkey the day before a feast though...
I did an upside-down flip mid-air to slip between a tight space in the canopy branches. As I glanced down, I saw a Kymari female and child sitting on a large branch halfway up a tree. They watched me fly through the treetops above them. The two of them had been watching our dance as well. Their race was very good at climbing, and it wasn't unusual to see them in trees or on the side of a cliff.
I altered my path and headed for a shallow, sandy area along the side of a creek, seeking the wet sand that was perfect to scour our scales clean. I landed by the water’s edge and rolled in the wet sand before grabbing a handful, rubbing it against the smaller scales that covered my wing membrane.
Our wings needed careful cleaning or the folds could hide a lot of things that could itch. Later on, I would have to visit another group bathing since I wasn’t able to reach some spots in the middle of my back.
I walked into the shallow water along the edge of the creek to rinse myself off, splashing in the stream like a bird to get all of the sand off my scales. I pretended that I didn’t see the heat haze in the trees on the other side of the small creek. I was somewhat concerned when it started approaching me.
The birds and other animals seemed oblivious to it, but I knew that it was some sort of invisibility shield. Some of the Kymari carried the fist-sized gadget with them; they could see each other when they used it, and we could somehow also see them. They didn't know that though.
The shimmer slowly approached the other side of the creek, and I shifted my weight nervously as I kept rinsing myself off. It was like looking through a bad heat haze, but I could see the male Kymari watching me. He had likely been one of our audience this morning and was looking for a close-up view.
I had zero intention of allowing that if I had any say in the matter. I paused to raise my head and sniff the air. Their cloaking field didn’t hide their scent, and they were aware of it. With a short alarm whistle, I shot into the air and flew in evasive maneuvers as I wove through the tree branches until I was out of sight.
I paused to perch on a branch as I looked around. It was all clear; I sighed in relief. I was still unsettled by the alien's approach and was scared that one of them would decide to try and catch me. It was a common fear among the dragonets.
Humans usually had a desire to possess anything that they were fascinated with. Thankfully, these aliens hadn’t shown any such inclination yet, but I wasn’t about to take any chances.
I had no desire to be trapped like a bird in a cage. My experiences from the lab still gave me nightmares. Many others also had bad dreams from those distant days.