Darju sat daydreaming, staring at nothing in particular. Today, she was on hatchery duty, which involved sitting, watching the eggs, and ensuring the fires kept burning.

“Darju. Stop daydreaming and get the fires stocked now,” came the harsh voice of the matron.

“Yes, Miss Hurshh.”, she replied as she hurried from her seat and ran to collect more firewood. She grabbed an arm-full from the pile outside where the workers delivered it, and hurried back into the hatchery. As she entered, trying to balance the stacked wood, she caught her tail on the door handle, jolting her backwards and making her release the wood onto the floor. One of the logs landed bouncing particularly high, and fell into the hatchery pit. She held her breath and watched it fall towards one of the eggs. It landed on the egg's top, which was, thankfully, its strongest part. Nothing happened, and she breathed out slowly in relief when she heard the faintest cracking sound.

“DARJU!” Miss Hurshh screamed as she ran towards the egg. “What have you done this time? Mrs Wersil was not expecting her hatchling for at least three more cinteps. She will be furious that it has hatched early.”

Darju turned, unhooking her tail from where it had caught on the door handle, and ran over to where the matron now bent, peeling the shell casing from the new hatchling, cooing at it.

“Mama?” the hatchling called as Darju bent down to help. Miss Hurshh smacked her hand away as she reached to assist.

“Don’t you think you have done enough damage for one day? I suggest you go back to the pod, and I will be speaking to your mother about this.” She snapped.

Darju did not bother responding and took one last look at the tiny hatchling before turning to leave. It was not her fault. She thought as she stomped down the tunnel leading to the exit. As she reached the exit, Poltu walked across the clearing with his followers.

“If it isn’t the ugly runt Darju,” he said, getting laughter from his followers.

“Go away, Poltu,” Darju replied.

“What have you done this time to be scurrying out of the hatchery so soon?” he replied.

“Leave me alone, will you,” she snapped, hissing at him.

“Oh, scary little runt, aren’t you,” he replied, laughing at her.

Darju was small for her age. She had always been small, and her mother had put it down to her being hatched prematurely. She had attended lessons with Poltu, the clan leader's son, and had always fallen foul to his teasing and remorseless antics towards her. Today, though, she was not in the mood. She flew at him. Poltu’s face went from being bold and brash to his eyes glinting with fear as the rabid form of Darju charged towards him. He swung his tail at her to try and knock her from her feet. She may be small, but she was very agile. She jumped over the strike and threw herself at him, claws extending and raking at his face, sending them crashing to the ground.

“What on earth do you think you two are doing?” Jiwey, the head guard, shouted in a commanding voice as he walked into the clearing. “Get up the both of you.”

The two combating Lyzords untangled themselves from each other and stood up. “She started it,” Poltu hissed as he tried to compose himself, straightening his clothes. A thin trail of blood was running down the side of his face where one of Darju’s claws had managed to penetrate his scales.

“What did I start? You started on me as you always have,” she snapped back.

“You just attacked me,” Poltu replied.

“Darju. Did you attack Poltu?” Jiwey asked.

Darju, for the briefest moment, thought about lying, but with his group of followers there to back him up, she decided against it. “Yes, Master Jiwey, I did,” She answered forlornly, looking down at the ground.

“Thank you for being honest. Poltu, go and get yourself cleaned up; your father is expecting you at the banquet tonight. We are hosting the Fliop Clan. Darju come with me,” Jiwey said.

Jiwey turned to leave, and Darju shuffled behind him, listening to the sniggers of Poltu and his cronies.

“Darju, you know your mother worries about you,” Jiwey said as they walked down the path heading towards the pod. Jiwey had been a surrogate father to Darju since her father had lost his life defending the pod in a previous clan battle several years ago. “You are always getting yourself in trouble, and she has always hoped you would become a Cryster like herself.”

“I know she does, but I have no ability as a Cryster. I don’t have the range in my voice,” she replied.

“Crysters are highly sought after across the Playverse,” he replied, “You know your mother gave up her career to bring you up.”

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Darju had had this same conversation over a thousand times, at least with Master Jiwey. ‘Mother gave up everything for you, and look at how you repay her.’ She rolled her eyes as she walked by his side, listening to him recounting his story about her mother in her heyday. Master Jiwey had always looked out for her, and she thought he and her mother had been close once.

“I wish I could be one, but Mother knows I cannot reach the pitches,” she replied.

“You can train and then train some more,” Jiwey replied. “You have only been out of your shell for eighteen PTs. Your mother did not succeed until she was in her twenties.”

“I know. You have told me before,” she replied, sighing.

He stopped and turned to look at her. “Darju. You know you can achieve whatever you put your mind to if you try hard enough. It just takes time.”

Darju was still frustrated with Poltu, and being spoken to as though she was a hatchling annoyed her. “Time? All I have ever done is commit my time to things that everyone else wants me to do,” she replied angrily.

Jiwey’s face softened as he looked at her. “Look, Darju. We all want the best for you,” he said, resting his hand on her shoulder.

“The best for me. What about what I want to do and what I need?” she snapped as she pulled away from him.

“Darju. Don’t be like that. We will always be here to support you,” Jiwey replied.

Her anger was boiling. It was always about what they wanted, not what she wanted to do. She wanted to be something other than a Cryster, work in the hatchery, cook, clean, or do any of the mundane jobs that most of the female Lyzords did. If anything, she wanted to travel and go on adventures that her father used to tell her as a hatchling.

“We? What do you mean we? You are not my father. So stop trying to replace him,” she barked and turned, running off into the underbrush at the side of the path.

“Darju,” Jiwey called as she disappeared.

She continued running for a while; she enjoyed running and being away from the pod. She knew she should not have said what she had to Jiwey. He had always cared for her and got her out of several scrapes. Where she should have probably received harsher punishment. If Lyzords could cry, she probably would have been, but it was physically impossible for them to. They had triple eyelids, an inner lid which moistened their eyes. A secondary set, which they could close when swimming, and then their third outer set, which was protective and they had no tear ducts.

She stumbled out from the underbrush and found herself at the river. Without hesitation, she threw herself forward and into its depths, not worried that she was still dressed. She was agile and nimble on land but even faster in water. Few in the clan could compete with her when it came to swimming. She had a relatively long tail for her size, which undoubtedly helped her speed when she swam. The suns were high, and the water felt warm as she swept through it, caressing her scales.

It was later that afternoon when she eventually returned to the pod. Due to the visiting clan, streamers had been hung inside the main cavern entrance, and she hurried through, ignoring all the others and heading back to the cavern she shared with her mother. It was nothing special, but in a decent part of the pod. It was part of the sacrificial payment from the clan for her father giving his life for its protection. She could hear her mother singing as she approached the cavern door. She opened it quietly and tried to creep to her room, leaving a trail of water from her sodden clothes when her mother turned and noticed her.

“Darju. Where have you been? And look at the state of you. I have been worried sick. Miss Hurshh spoke to me about the unfortunate incident today at the hatchery, and Master Jiwey has also been to see me.” She said with concern.

“I am fine, mum,” she replied sullenly.

“You might be fine, but I think you owe some apologies.”

“Apologies for what?”

“For what has happened today at the hatchery and what you said to Master Jiwey.”

“An accident? I have to apologise for an accident and telling Jiwey the truth that he is not my father!” she snapped.

“Darjuina Krostler. Do not take that tone with me,” her mother replied sternly.

She knew she had gone too far whenever her mother used her full name. She had been feeling better since swimming, but now that her mother had a go at her, she again got annoyed. She stormed into her room and slammed the door closed.

“Darju. We will continue this later. I need to go and prepare for tonight's festivities as I am lead Cryster.” Her mother called. She did not reply and heard the cavern door open and close shortly after.

Darju had removed her damp clothes and was sulking on her cot under her favourite blanket. She hated the pod. Life was dull; nothing ever happened, and she needed to escape. She was eighteen PTs old, as Jiwey rightly said, and at eighteen, she knew her father had been a wanderer. She made her mind up. She climbed from her cot and began to pack her bag. Her father had owned a backpack from his time during the clan wars, and she had kept hold of it, although her mother had wanted to throw it out as it brought back too many memories. She dragged it from the bottom of her nook.

She began to read off a list of what she would take: spare clothes, a blanket, light sticks, flint and striker, food, and water. Lyzords did not wear shoes or boots as some races did due to their clawed toes. She had a few sheks stashed away, which she had earned, and placed them in a small pouch she attached to her belt. Walking out into the main cavern, she found some paper and a pen and scribbled a note.

Dear Mum,

I love you more than you will ever know, but I cannot stay cooped up in the pod. I know that you always had bigger dreams of making it in the Playverse, and so do I. I need to be free and spend some time finding myself. Dad was a wanderer before he met you, and I am going to wander for a while myself. I am sure I will be back soon. Please tell Jiwey that I am sorry for what I said.

Love,

Darju x

Folding the note, she placed it on the centre of the living room table where her mother would see it when she came home. She picked up her staff, sat by the front door, and walked outside. The pod was buzzing because of the visiting clan, and pod members were coming and going throughout the main cavern. She stood in their cavern doorway and looked back inside at the note on the table before pulling it closed and walking up the tunnel to the pods' entrance.