>In the waters beside a large scavenger Den._

Mako floated with only her eyes just above the surface and stared with horror at the scene that had just played out. Reverberations from the sky explosions were still echoing back from the hills up the land. She and the dragonets were a good distance away from the swarm of strange boats floating around, but still close enough to easily see what happened above the shore.

A small group eight or so of NightWings had appeared from low-hanging clouds over the den, which was confusing enough in of itself. What were NightWings doing here? What did they want with a scavenger den? They were not involved in any way with the War, and went to the pains of never revealing the location of their kingdom, or indeed themselves, to project that fact. That was common enough knowledge amongst all read dragons.

At first, she would admit that she was a little bit disappointed at their appearance. The reclusive dragons clearly intended to burn the den, and probably the swarm of ‘boats’ in the water as well. Which would obviously mean that she and her pupils wouldn’t get the chance to observe them.

While the declaration she had made earlier to the dragonets that the monster-chasing quest turned scavenger-watching trip would entail homework was indeed a means of exacting a small amount of revenge on them; She was also serious that it would have been a benefit to their collective education.

After all, not many dragons got to, or rather even bothered to, observe a scavenger Den in its natural, non-panicked state.

But unfortunately, it would seem as though that opportunity would not come to fruition.

She wasn’t going to lose sleep over it though. scavengers were still just pests, after all.

But then something happened that she just might indeed lose sleep over.

The sky around the diving NightWings had suddenly exploded.

Mako winced as the leading dragon’s wing was torn asunder, and they plummeted shrieking to the forest below.

She had the place of mind to shield the dragonets from the awful sight by ordering them underwater, as an inexplicable flying creature dove from the sky and did something to another dragon that sent them spasming down to the ground below. While all dragons were accustomed to the sight of blood and gore at a young age, Mako didn’t think that they needed to see other dragons dying like that.

She was glad she got them all underwater before another one of the NightWings was violently eviscerated by another blast, and she nearly lost her stomach. She had never imagined that a dragon could die like that.

When she looked back, the sky explosions had stopped. All the NightWings were dead. Ripped apart in midair less than five minutes after they had appeared.

The three dragonets all resurfaced once they had detected the end to the continued smoky blasts. They collectively gasped, no doubt spotting the horrible flying thing that had turned back and was flying over the swarm of massive boats.

“What is that?” She heard Clam ask.

“What happened?” Said Oyster.

Mako took a few moments to even register their questions, much less formulate answers.

“The… The NightWings were killed. I think the scavengers on the boats somehow summoned explosions onto them. I don’t know what that buzzing thing is, nor do I really even know exactly what happened.”

“The scavengers killed the Nightwings? How?” Oyster whispered fretfully.

“Well… they did attack them.” Clam replied.

“But how?” Oyster returned. “scavengers can’t kill dragons! It’s like a rule of nature, right? And besides, why did the NightWings even try to attack them? Shouldn't they have foresaw that the scavengers were going to explode them or something? Mako, you said that the NightWings could see the future!”

That was… indeed true. They can. That raises a whole new set of questions…

Cuttlefish didn’t say anything, which was odd. While he was typically a dragon of fewer words compared to the other two, he would almost certainly have had something to say in this situation.

Mako paddled around, and the two siblings did too.

Cuttlefish was behind them. He was staring intently at one of the boats on the water. He said nothing nor made any indication that he even noticed their attention on him. The boat he was staring at had multiple scavengers visible across it. Mako had no idea what they were up to, but they didn’t seem to notice the dragons floating in the water a distance away from them. She looked back to Cuttlefish, who hadn’t flinched his gaze.

What is he looking at?

***

Cuttlefish considered the situation. He had slowly, carefully swam behind Mako after she ordered them underwater, behind the two siblings that were hovering close to her tail, and had surreptitiously peeked his own head above the calm water. He didn’t surface in time to see exactly what had happened to the NightWings, but he knew they had been killed.

He didn’t have a clue as to how the scavengers did it. Mako had told him and his friends that if they came across something that posed a question they could not answer, they would move on to another question that they could. So, he moved on to the next question; why.

He figured he at least knew why. It was self-defense. The Nightwings attacked them first.

His own parents had sometimes said that violence was usually better only used against dragons that attacked you first.

Cuttlefish didn’t know a whole lot about scavengers, but he figured the same logic should apply to them.

How they had managed to act on that logic was another question entirely.

However, that wasn’t what really caught his attention. Which was rather strange, in hindsight, if you asked him.

He had seen, on the tops of the boats that they were closer to, that the scavengers on them were doing something other than working the weapons that threw the streams of fire and explosions into the air.

A few of them, across all the boats, were holding and waving various brightly colored fabrics on sticks in very clearly deliberate positions and postures. A few others were standing by some weird small cylinder things mounted on scavenger-sized rails that were somehow able to emit light like his very own luminescent scales did, and were flashing them at other boats. Which in turn had other scavengers on them controlling lights that blinked back.

It tickled something in the back of his mind that he hadn’t noticed in a while. When he was younger, he could remember Mako congratulating him to his parents on how quickly he had learned Aquatic, the language of flashes and talon gestures that SeaWings used to communicate underwater. He remembered his parents later told him that she had said he had a natural affinity for it.

He thought they might have been right. In more ways than they had perhaps noticed. Sure, he learned it quickly enough, but he also always had a certain deep interest in the language itself. An interest he thought most other SeaWings didn’t really share. To them, it was just a means of communication. A tool.

To be sure, it was a tool for him as well, but he had a weird fascination with it that he could not really articulate into words yet.

Perhaps he at least could say that the act of speaking through a series of flashes and gestures rather than through voice was simply… cool to him.

When he watched the scavengers aboard the boats waving colored fabrics and flashing strange lights at each other, he almost got that same intuitive tingling interest he used to get when watching other dragons speak to one another in Aquatic, and he found his attention latching onto them.

Most dragons would probably have just seen a bunch of crazy hairless monkeys waving small colorful fabrics and flashing lights nonsensically at one another, but Cuttlefish could see a rhyme in the rapids.

He could see patterns in the blinking of the lights and the waving of the fabrics, changes in flash frequency, deliberate differentiations and repetitions in which the fabrics were raised and how they were waved. Patterns that were almost similar to the ones employed in the flashes and talon gestures that made up the language he spoke when under the sea.

He had read that scavengers were supposed to make a rapid series of chittering and squeaking noises with each other, and that no one knew what they meant. Most thought that they meant nothing.

But these scavengers were communicating with each other, he was sure. In a manner that was reminiscent of the way that SeaWings communicated.

Cuttlefish was broken from his reverie when a gray-blue wing waved in his face. “Cuttlefish? Are you all right?” He heard Mako’s voice.

He shook himself and turned to regard the dragons. They were all looking at him with expressions ranging from concern and confusion. Mako gestured that they should dive underwater, so they did.

[“Are you all right?”] Oyster flashed once they were all under.

[“You were staring wall-eyed at one of the boats.”] From Mako.

[“What were you looking at?”] Clam said.

Cuttlefish took a moment to process the simultaneous questions. [“I saw some of the scavengers on the boats using flashing lights and waving colored fabrics to communicate with the scavengers on other boats. I think they were talking with each other via light signals like we talk in Aquatic.”] He said.

Clam and Oyster’s eyes widened, Mako looked skeptical. [“Well, I saw eight fully-grown dragons just get ripped to pieces by said scavengers on those boats.”] She flashed cynically. [“We need to get back to the enclave to warn everybody. Those things are indeed dangerous. Hopefully, they’ll stay near that scavenger Den and leave us alone. We will however need to send a messenger over to one of the Royal palaces, as I know SeaWing patrols sometimes fly nearby here. They’ll need to be warned of the danger. Perhaps they can even come up with a potential solution…”] Mako then set off in the direction of the enclave, making an effort to stay away from the water’s surface. The dragonets all followed after her.

***

For two hours they swam through the blue featureless waters.

One of the reasons, Cuttlefish had learned, that the Kingdom of the Sea proper was positioned within and around the bay of a Thousand Scales was that the entire huge area was made up of comparatively shallow water. Which, combined with the warm temperatures of the area and a bunch of other factors meant that the area was populated by numerous coral reefs. Islands of life and color in the comparatively empty abyss that was the deep sea.

This, combined with the many warm-water currents that flowed between the various islands of the Bay, were why so many Seawings made their residence there. Why the Kingdom itself was situated there.

The enclave that they called home was far separated from any of that.

Which meant that the route back from the den to their home was long, due to the lack of currents that would aid in their travel, and boring thanks to the lack of anything but the silt and rock of the seafloor and an endless blue void to look at.

The upside, Cuttlefish had been told, about living out in the middle of nowhere was that they were largely left alone by the affairs of the Kingdom and the wider world. Other than the talonful of guards that used the enclave as a kind of outpost for their long-range patrols, the great War had mostly overlooked them.

The downside was that it was absolutely boring to look at, and frankly dull to live in. You had to swim a considerable distance land-wards before you could come across anything that wasn’t another desolate outcropping of rock sticking out like a craggy island in the middle of a large lake.

It was on a particularly large undersea rock outcrop that the enclave was positioned on, large enough that it would perhaps be more accurate to refer to it as a small undersea mountain. With Seawings making homes out of small caves that were either dug out or formed naturally. From here, the local Seawings that lived here subsisted on hunting for species of deepwater migratory fish and other sea creatures, and marketing the excess to the shallow-water reef or palace dwelling SeaWings in order to get other things that they would need.

It was a comparatively stable existence, but far from what any reasonable dragon would call exciting. Whether that was a good or bad thing depended on who you asked.

As the quartet of dragons made their final approach on the enclave's perimeter, they caught sight of a rather large dull blue shape swimming about at a leisurely pace.

It was Grouper, the elderly dragon that had suggested they seek out the floating things in the first place. They swam their way over to him.

["Why, hello again, young dragons!"] He flashed with a smile when he noticed them. ["How did the expedition go? Did you find anything?"]

["Clam, Oyster. Go tell your parents to call for an enclave meeting. Tell then it's urgent."] Mako flashed, ignoring Grouper' query. The siblings dutifully swam off. Their parents were distantly related to Seawing royal nobility, and thus had a position of relative authoritative sway amongst the enclave dwellers. Enough that they could call for a meeting amongst the enclave elders and adults, anyway.

["Oh, dear. It's that bad?"] Grouper said, now more serious, and looking somewhat surprised.

Mako turned back to him. ["You were right about the things that the dragonets claimed to see being boats. They're definitely real, and they're definitely dangerous. And there's a lot of them. I'll explain in more detail to everyone at the meeting."]

Mako started to swim off, but stopped and looked back at Cuttlefish. ["You should be at the meeting too, as you are also an eyewitness and saw the things before they were near the den. I also don't trust the other two to know when to hold their scales."] She paddled off with a strong flick of her tail.

After she left, Grouper turned to Cuttlefish as well ["Well, whatever it is you've all seen, it's certainly got her wound up. Not that she was ever particularly known for being laid back in the first place."]

Cuttlefish could help but snort a few bubbles at that remark. But he quickly went back to being fully serious as well. ["...She's right, those things, and we think they are boats… are dangerous. Although, there are some other things as well."]

Grouper stopped him before he could go on. ["As much as I am curious for the details of what you all discovered, I think you should wait to explain it to the rest of the dragons at the meeting in a moment. We should go."] He swam off in the direction that Mako had gone, and Cuttlefish followed him.

It was rare that Grouper would appear this serious. He had a reputation for taking a relaxed attitude to, well, just about everything.

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Grouper led Cuttlefish to the enclave's usual meeting area, a relatively flat plateau of stone atop the large outcrop of rock. Dragons were already beginning to gather around, with Mako at the center of a loose circle of floating dragons. The dim strobing lights and subtle gestures of dragons muttering in Aquatic was the only break in the terse stillness.

Once a sufficient number of enclave residents had gathered, one of the dragons in the small crowd flared his scales and spoke up. ["Why did you call this meeting, Mako? What's the big deal?"] Many others dimly signaled their agreement.

["Yeah! What's the big deal!? We got important work to do around here, you know!"] Another dragon flashed.

["Like fish you have better things to do, Gato."] Yet another dragon shot back.

["You watch your scales!"]

["SeaWings."] Mako interjected ["There has been a serious development that requires our immediate attention and action. Yesterday, Cuttlefish, Clam, and Oyster happened across a group of very strange objects moving across the ocean's surface. A decent distance from the enclave. Cuttlefish is here with us right now, so I'll have him explain what they came across."]

She called Cuttlefish forward, and he summarized with some degree of trepidation what he and the others had first seen of the things. He gave a rough location, some visual descriptions, and went over what the things actually did when they could see them and some of their initial theories as to what they were. Including the supposition that they were sea monsters.

Mako then explained yesterday evening's interaction between the dragonets, herself and Grouper. She referenced her skepticism at their story, and mentioned Grouper's suggestion that the strange things were some sort of large boat. Grouper himself then clarified what boats were to any dragons that weren't in the know.

Mako then summarized their short expedition that morning to follow the trail of the strange boats, their sighting of them near the scavenger den.

["They were huge. Larger than any dragon-made structure, sans the palaces, that I've seen. And there were at least 40 of them. As per Cuttlefish's reckoning."] She said.

She then described the abrupt NightWing incursion on the den, and how they were all quickly ripped apart in midair by explosions and fire thrown up by unknown weapons on the boats. As well as the inexplicable flying… thing that dove from the clouds and attacked the NightWings as well.

["I don't know how the scavengers on those boats were able to do that. Or even what manner of weapon could possibly do that. I do know, however, that whatever it is, it's dangerous. And very much can kill flying dragons. We should avoid flying near that den. I don't know if they have weapons that can attack things underwater, but I doubt it. We also need to extend that warning to the wider kingdom, as I know we have guard patrols that sometimes fly nearby there."]

Her scales dimmed as she finished her announcements. Facial expressions on the gathered dragons ranged from concern, bafflement, skepticism, and just blankness.

Before everyone erupted into speech all at once in a visual cacophony that made Cuttlefish’s eyes hurt.

["scavengers can't do that, that's ridiculous!"]

[“You expect us to believe all that!?”]

["That's too crazy to be true!"]

["Wait, what? I zoned out…"]

["What would a bunch of NightWings want with some scavenger den, anyway!?"]

[“What was that flying thing?”]

["I say we go destroy that den ourselves!"]

["ONE AT A TIME, PLEASE!"] The especially bright flash came from Barnacle, Clam and Oyster's father. Everyone darkened down promptly.

Barnacle wrung his talons together for a few moments, deciding what to say next. ["Sailfish? Have you ever heard of scavengers possessing weapons anything like that?"]

The dragon in question was a rather large and well built deep blue adult renowned in the enclave for his hunting experience and prowess. He was one of the main bringers of large fish like tuna, and had even done a few hunting sorties into land.

["Well… sort of."] He said. ["I've heard of dragons that went hunting close to the big scavenger dens having long pointy sticks and other things thrown at them, and that many of said things were far too large for most dragons, much less scavengers, to be thrown like they were. But I've never heard of anything like what Mako has described."]

["It it possible it was magic?"] Someone suggested, which was met by visual scoffs.

["scavengers can't be magic, that's ridiculous!"]

["So is whatever else it is Mako is talking about!"]

["Well, yeah…"]

["I doubt it was animus magic. No one's even seen an animus dragon in centuries!"]

["Well what about the boats? Did the air explosions come from the den, or from the boats?"]

["Yeah, what about those boats? Grouper said that boats were artificial constructions, which meant someone had to have built the ones that you all supposedly saw. Who made them?"]

[“What about the flying thing?”]

["Are the dragonets all right? What Mako described happening to those NightWings sounded pretty… visceral."]

["They didn't see it happen. I made sure."] Mako finally interjected back into the hubbub.

Cuttlefish's head was starting to hurt a little. He had never been to one of these enclave meetings, and hadn't really been around so many SeaWings talking over each other in Aquatic.

["Mako,"] Barnacle said ["If what you're describing is true, then that area should indeed be considered dangerous, and so anyone going there should do so with caution. Not that we made a particular habit of swimming in that area, anyway. But I have to ask; Are you sure that you and the dragonets saw all that? It all still sounds pretty far-fetched."]

["Of course I’m sure, I saw it with my own eyes."] Mako responded. ["I wouldn't just make up this whole thing as a story to get everyone worked up for the fun of it! Moons, that's what I accused the dragonets themselves of doing yesterday. I even continued to think they were until I saw the boats myself."]

["Well… Alright. I would still prefer to have as many dragons confirm seeing them as possible, but it sounds like these boats don't take well to large groups of dragons suddenly appearing."] Barnacle said with an amused snort.

["Either way, we should take this up with the royal authorities. We wouldn't want any SeaWing guards to fly near that Den, unbeknownst of the danger. Bonefish, Sailfish, you're coming with me. We're going to the Summer Palace. I want you along as well, Mako, as you were an eyewitness. Cuttlefish can stay here. We'll leave tomorrow morning, and should get back by the end of the day. Meeting adjourned, everybody. You can get back to you're ever-important business."]

A few dragons chuckled at the remark as they dispersed, most were just muttering amongst themselves. No doubt questioning the validity of anything Mako or Cuttlefish had said. The dragon who had asked about the flying thing continued to do so. Cuttlefish decided he wouldn’t bother trying to answer him, as he wouldn’t really have real answers to give.

As Cuttlefish himself turned to leave, finding himself dreading the day when he too became an adult and so had to attend the meetings on a regular basis. He stopped when he laid eyes on a large light-blue figure. Dolphin, his mother.

[“Cuttlefish!”]

["Hi, mother."] Cuttlefish said simply.

["Hi yourself, are you all right?"] She retorted. She took his talons in hers and looked him up and down. [''Are you all right? Why didn’t you tell me any of this yesterday? I thought you and your friends were going on a short field trip with Mako, and it turns out ot be… whatever this is?”]

He ducked his head, feeling a little bad. He indeed didn’t give his mother any real details on what was happening, or what he had seen.

[“...Sorry, mother. I just didn't want you to worry. It wasn’t as though we went deliberately chasing after sea monsters or anything. Elder Grouper had said that the things we saw were some manner of large boat.”]

[“I saw. What Grouper said, anyway. Although judging by what Mako described happened to those NightWings, I’m tempted to say they were indeed sea monsters.”] She pointed over to where Mako was now, flashing in muted glow to a small group of dragons that had gathered around her. They were likely discussing the very thing his mother was referring to.

[“It’s all right, mother. I didn’t see anything. Mako had us dragonets duck underwater before the explosions started.”] That was at least mostly true. Cuttlefish and the siblings had only been above water long enough to see the first diving NightWing get their wing shredded by a nearby blast, which was before the really gory carnage apparently started. Cuttlefish also didn’t reemerge until just as the last dragons were ripped apart and plunging into the sea below on their dive. He was more focused on the scavenger boats and their signals at that point, anyway.

She visually sighed, and lowered her head with a small amount of exasperation. [“That’s not the point… I’m saying… You really need to just be more-...”] She sighed again. [“I know you're smarter than to go swimming headlong into danger like that. Please listen to that intelligence, next time.”]

Cuttlefish ducked his head again and nodded, this time more sincerely.

[“...Any word on Father?”] He asked, wanting to change the subject.

His mother’s wings drooped. That probably wasn’t the best thing to say, at least on the front of trying to improve his mother’s mood. The earlier assumption that their enclave had avoided the effects of the direct effects of the war was not entirely true. Several able-bodied adults from the remote enclave had been enlisted by the SeaWing general army to fight in the War for SandWing Succession alongside Princess Blister and her forces after they lost the allegiance of Queen Morhen and the MudWings to Princess Burn and her allies, the SkyWings. Cuttlefish’s father was one of those dragons. They hadn’t heard of him since he had to leave some months ago.

[“...No.”] His mother flashed dimly.

[“Sorry.”] Cuttlefish said again, his wings now drooping as well. Before he quickly thought of something else to say. [“Hey, Barnacle, Sailfish, Bonefish and Mako are going to the Summer Palace to warn them about the strange boats we found. They can ask about father there.”]

His mother perked up a minute amount at that, and gave him a small smile. She nodded over to where Mako was still speaking with a dozen or so other enclave dwellers. Cuttlefish paddled his way over to them.

Mako didn’t seem all that happy when he approached. [“What’re you doing? I have a lot that I need to prepare now, traveling to the Summer Palace to convince a bunch of dragons of something unbelievable thanks to this whole crazy mess you three started.”] She flashed irritably. Although, her expression softened when he asked her if she could ask about a dragon named Argonaut.

[“...Sure.”] She said with a gentle nod.

Cuttlefish thanked her, and swam off to find his friends. He felt absolutely exhausted.

***

>In a wood, a short distance from Safe Harbor._

Petty Officer First Class Darren Olson was not somewhere he’d predicted he would be a couple months ago.

With his aptitude for foreign languages, he always figured he was going to be an interpreter. Preferably for international diplomats. It just seemed right, and there would have been a market for his talents, as well. With all the attention around international negotiations and peace treaties following the near-apocalyptic catastrophe that was the Great War.

Although, the War To End All Wars turned out to be a misnomer. Because not 20 years later, Europe was imbued with warfighting once again.

That wasn’t what got Darren to enlist. The United States wasn’t directly involved with the War in Europe. he did consider joining up, though. Becoming an interpreter for the US military for a little while seemed to be a fairly good way to climb the government-employee social ladder and get a pretty high-up job with the civilian government.

He didn’t join, though. Until Pearl Harbor was surprise-attacked by the Japs, the Germans formally declared war on the US. It was then that the US officially entered what was becoming known as World War II. Darran joined the Navy, expecting to be stationed in the Pacific, and planning to start learning Japanese so that he could translate intercepted radio transmissions or something. However, that wasn’t to be. He found that he had enlisted after a very long line of people, and as such wasn’t exactly given much say in where he was stationed. Even with his multilingual skills. He eventually found himself memorizing Morse Code and stationed as a signalman aboard a Destroyer running convoy escort in the North Atlantic waters. Thankfully after the brunt of the Kreigsmarine spear had largely been blunted on the shield that was Royal Navy surface action, Allied air power and Merchant sailor’s lives.

But none of that compared to the whiplash he had been feeling for the past day or so.

He was now an interpreter for a collection of various Allied sailors and a never-before encountered race of people, on a never-before seen land, speaking a never-before heard language. Oh, and he was also in charge of the effort to interpret that never-before heard language and translate it into English.

And he was doing all that on a world with three moons.

Most people would, and should, feel overwhelmed. Darren certainly did, to an extent. But Darren had found long ago that he was really good at managing an overload of intellectual stimulation without freaking out. Part of his multilingual talents, he supposed.

That, as well as a bit of the local’s weirdly strong, and rather nasty alcohol he drank may be helping in that regard.

When he wasn’t getting bombarded with questions he couldn’t understand from the locals, he was doing his level best to get as many of their basic words, basic enough that the meaning of said words could be communicated nonverbally or through context, translated to English and written down. As well as just trying to make sense of their language itself to the best degree that they reasonably can.

On that font, he would tentatively say that he and his team of relatively similarly talented people were doing a fairly good job. They had been working tirelessly all night and into the morning with any locals that understood their task and wished to help, which was a surprisingly large amount. For every one person in his team, of which there were 17 currently, there were at least 5 locals that were willing to sit down with them and work out the meanings of as many easy to describe concepts and objects as possible. The locals also spent a fair amount of time clearly debating the exact meanings of certain words, and probably the best way to describe them to someone that could not understand their speech. All in order to ensure as few misunderstandings as possible.

All in all, they had translated about 100 simple words across. Words like “tree,” “happy,” or “hello.”

The locals helping them had learned just as many words in English. They were co-translating, after all. Darren was impressed by their enthusiasm to pick up English, which rivaled their own resolve to learn the local’s language.

They also wrote down each word they had managed to interpret, both the English word and the equivalent local word, in order to start the beginnings of a dictionary between them. Darren was also working on writing out the local words phonetically in English, so that other people aboard the convoy ships could study them and hopefully learn that way. He knew the locals were doing the same.

It was difficult, though. The local’s verbal language was so different. Not really different from a grammatical standpoint, as their languages were actually very similar in grammatical structure, as far as he could tell. But they were different in the way that the speakers, well, spoke.

It was proving difficult for each group of people to pronounce each other’s words.

The local’s spoken language largely consisted of odd chittering, clicking, and high-pitched almost squeaky sounds. If he thought about it, it was a language made up of almost exclusively consonant sounds, and nearly void of most long vowel sounds, excluding some short ‘i’ and ‘e’ sounds.

English speakers, and indeed most languages on Earth, for that matter, mostly used their throat, voicebox and tongue to pronounce words. These people seemed to mostly use their lips, teeth, and tips of their tongues to pronounce their words. The fronts of their mouths. It was very interesting to listen to. Darren had heard of some languages spoken by remote tribes in the middle of nowhere that had some similarities, but these people took it to a whole other level.

It was very awkward to speak for him and the other sailors, and even harder to use English letters to write their words down phonetically. It was equally difficult for the locals, which seemed to have similar difficulty figuring out how to transcribe our words into their own written language. Which was a fascinating literary conundrum in of itself, and they often broke into coughing fits after pronouncing lots of English words in a row.

That wasn’t the only thing, however. Some of the locals, when either listening to the sailors speak English, or when they themselves were pronouncing English words, seemed to get almost subconsciously nervous. Shuffling in place, wringing their hands, flitting their eyes about and up to the skies. Darren couldn’t figure out why.

He did have a suspicion that it may have had to do with the noise level, as the local’s language tended to be much quieter in standard conversation. Due mostly to many of their words not having long vowels.

While paranoia about noise was a possible explanation to the local’s trepidation towards speaking loudly, it was just an answer that brought up more questions than it resolved.

Namely why they would be afraid of speaking in a way that would let your voice carry over distance.

After what happened this morning, Darren thought he now had a potential answer to that question as well.

Now he, and a few other sailors as well as a group of locals that had been participating in the cross-language learning effort, were making their way over to one of those potential reasons right now.

At least, where said reason had been projected to have crash-landed.

It had been but a few hours since the town had actually come under attack by a bunch of dragons. Dragons! Actual living, flying, probably fire-breathing dragons! He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it, and even then he probably still would not have believed it if it weren't for the entire town, allied anti-air crews and RADAR clearly seeing them too.

He and the posse were currently walking through the moderately sparse forest towards the probable location of the first dragon that had fallen to the onslaught of naval artillery airburst shells.

They could still hear the sounds of raucous celebration from the town, which had gone positively ape after everyone realized that the flying beasts attacking them had all been felled without getting the chance themselves to destroy anything. Darren wasn’t exactly one for parties, and so was glad when the radioman assigned with him and his team on shore told them that they had been tasked with tracking down and analyzing the crash sites of the dragons that had been shot down over land. He was also glad that he’d been given one of the closer sites for investigation.

The people he was walking with hardly said anything. Him and the other sailors hadn’t the slightest clue what to expect. While he thought the locals were at least more familiar with the dragons, he got the feeling that this was probably the closest any of them had ever been to one.

There. Signs of foliage deformation on the forest floor. Something weird-smelling up ahead. They were close.

They pushed through a particularly large bush, and all froze when they came into sight of their quarry. The locals seemed to reflexively duck and take a few steps back.

A big, winged, black dragon lay sprawled in a clearly unnatural position on the forest floor. Young tree saplings and shrubs had been knocked over and back from when it impacted the ground. It appeared to have landed on its chest. Its wings, legs, and tail were spread out around it. Its head was turned away from where they were standing.

Darren and the sailors with him began to approach the clearly dead dragon. The locals soon followed. Darren had heard that this dragon was downed when a 5” flak shell exploded nearby and destroyed its right-hand wing. From what he could see of the damage, that assessment seemed to be accurate. The right wing membrane was in tatters. Parts that were left at all were full of tiny holes created by shrapnel, and contrasted by huge gaps where it looked like the overpressure wave formed from the explosion itself just took portions of the flexible membrane with it. Parts of the long wing ‘fingers’ were also bent and crooked at places where joints clearly were not present, indicating bone fracture as well. Deep red dried blood was present at all places where the membrane had been breached, and at several places where the wing itself was broken.

He was kind of impressed that the dragon had not immediately died from brain hemorrhaging or some other physical trauma inflicted by the huge shell exploding right next to it. Then again, it may have suffered catastrophic internal bleeding that he just isn’t seeing.

Several of the locals flinched back when he laid his hands upon the wing, and lifted it out of the way slightly so he could see the dragon’s body better. He found that it was surprisingly lightweight, given its size.

The black dragon’s scales were not just black, it seemed, but rather a shade of incredibly dark green, with a similarly colored underbelly that appeared to be made of very tiny smooth scales rather than the big plated scales that covered the dragon’s shoulders, back, and neck. Or the more standard-fare but large reptilian scales which covered its four legs. Said scales were also probably not as resistant to damage as the bulkier ones, as Darren could clearly see many small wounds and spouts of red blood where shrapnel had impacted all over the dragon’s side. Once again, he was surprised and a little bit impressed that all that shrapnel didn’t just kill the dragon instantly. Clearly, these creatures are very survivable.

Darren was by no means a doctor, but even he could tell that the dragon’s ribcage had been shattered and partially collapsed. The flak shell didn’t do that, as an explosion that powerful would mean this dragon wouldn’t still have all of its limbs still attached to it. This dragon died on impact with the ground. He imagined the docs aboard the convoy ships would probably have a fun time giving this creature a proper autopsy. Or at least as properly they could manage, anyway.

Darren moved towards the creature’s head, while the other people scattered about to examine the fallen dragon from multiple angles. The beast’s non-lidded eyes were still mostly open, and its draconic face appeared to be frozen in what the empathetic part of his brain was telling him was… pain.

Maybe even fear, but that was probably just him anthropomorphizing it.

Still, getting one of your appendages and side shredded by an explosion mid flight and dying from the resulting fall was not exactly a pleasant way to go.

Not that being burned and/or eaten alive really is, either. Darren thought, thinking back to the town. Even still, he would be lying if he said that he felt no pity towards the dead creature whatsoever.

He was broken from his thoughts by another of the sailors gasping and calling out his name. “Darren! Come look at this!”

He quickly made his way over to the man who had shouted, who was standing just beside the dragon’s non-perforated wing. He was pointing to something under it with wide eyes. Darren gasped as well, when he saw it too.

Under the dragon’s left wing, positioned against its body was a kind of… big satchel thing. Made from what looked like some kind of rough fabric. Very rough. It was crazy enough that a giant lizard would have that. But what was just sticking out of said satchel is what really grabbed their attention.

Something that looked distinctly like rolled-up paper. Everyone present gathered around as Darren and the other sailors carefully pulled out the large parchment scroll, and it was indeed a scroll. They moved it clear of the dead dragon and slowly unrolled it out onto the ground. The thing was more like a tarp made from parchment than it was a scroll.

They gasped again when they saw what was on it. It was a map, crudely scratched out by what looked suspiciously like claw marks and charcoal, but a map that roughly mirrored the one shown to them by the local townspeople. With several clear ‘X’ and ‘O’ shapes on several places on the landmass depicted at seemingly random places. Not only that, but there were strange symbols all over parts of the scroll sheet and map as well. Symbols that looked like a collection of claws, wings, and moons at various stages. Giving it an appearance reminiscent of the ancient hieroglyphic languages of Ancient Egyptian and Mesopotamian civilizations.

They all exchanged shocked glances with each other. The sailors were the more shocked ones, while the locals just seemed confused. What they were looking at was clearly a written language and a map of the continent.

Darren looked back to the felled dragon. A written language of dragons.