>In the waters near Safe Harbor_

The imposing floating metal construct loomed overhead. Like a lazy bull shark it nonchalantly grew closer and closer. What paltry warm light the awakening sun cast imparted a dark shadow under the strange thing’s bulk.

Cuttlefish was frozen. He’d no idea what to do. Should he try to swim away? Get some distance from the boat-thing? Would that agitate it? Should he just remain still? What if that was what it wanted him to do? What if it didn’t even know he was actually here?

He tried to remember what he did the last times he’d been confronted by things like this. The first time; he and his friends were kind of dumbstruck on the spot, and didn’t move. Nothing bad happened to them that time, but that was in the middle of the open ocean, and before these things proved dangerous to dragons.

The second had been with the underwater-boat-thing. Twice, actually. Both times Cuttlefish literally swam up to it and poked his head out of the water. In hindsight, that seemed a pretty foolish idea. Neither time ended badly when he did, though…

But would this boat-thing be the same? Cuttlefish still didn’t know what these things were capable of. It probably could kill him if he just held still like this. It probably could kill him if he tried to swim away. It could definitely kill him if he tried to swim up to it and say hello like last time.

It also might not. It might be like with the scavengers on the underwater-boat-thing. Where was that thing, anyway? He thought it might have come over here, but he couldn’t see it from where he was. Then again, he couldn’t see most of the boat-things’ undersides from his current underwater position.

Cuttlefish stared up at the boat-thing as it drew closer. The bubble trail coming from behind it was clearly visible, and the shaking vibrations in the water around quite apparent indeed.

This could also prove an opportunity to see scavengers up close again… Isn’t that what you wanted?

More or less… Cuttlefish found himself wondering why exactly he had blundered all the way out here.

Because he was bored? Because these scavengers were weird? Because he was curious? To be honest, he wasn’t fully sure. This had seemed like a much better idea beforetalon, before he actually went out and did it. But now that he is here… Maybe he might as well go all the way?

The young SeaWing found himself seriously considering doing what he did with the previous boat-thing, and just going up and saying hello. Despite his wariness, that went well last time, right?

Maybe then, this could be an opportunity for him to be a brave SeaWing for once. Not that anyone was around to bear witness to his courage, anyway.

Still, it would feel pretty redeeming after his whole ‘scared-of-the-ocean’ thing…

Come on, Cuttlefish. You’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen…?

Cuttlefish stared up at the gradually approaching metal hulk for a few moments, stalling. He eventually managed to harden his resolve, and nervously paddled up to the boat-thing’s right-talon side. He tried to squint through the rippling surface up at the above-water portion of the boat-thing, but couldn’t make anything out through the disturbed seawater.

This is it, no turning back…

Cuttlefish hurriedly popped his head out of the water, and hastily shook it to clear the water from his eyes; coughing and spitting out water as he cleared his gills to use his lungs again.

No sooner than he took his first complete breath of the salty air, did he hear something that sounded rather like the scavenger barking he’d known from before:

(“What the… YIKES!”)

Cuttlefish felt something lightweight and hard bonk off his head, something hot and sticky splashed his horns. He yelped and frantically shook his head again.

(“Oh, no, dammit!”)

(“What!? What’s the matter?”)

(“What’s the matter is I dropped me bleeding tea!”)

Cuttlefish looked up. The first thing he noticed - other than this boat-thing being quite a bit bigger and taller above water than the last one - was that there were a few weird-colored scavengers across it. They looked rather like the last ones he’d seen on the underwater-boat-thing, and were seemingly at least as eager to bark at each other.

(“Oh, there’s also another one of those fish-dragons, too.”)

(“NO, you don’t say?”)

(“What happened?”)

(“Steve dropped a clanger again.”)

(“Dickhead.”)

Cuttlefish tilted his head up at the scavengers. There were… actually quite a few of them atop the boat-thing. Fairly high out of the water from their vantage point, they had strange white coverings on their bodies. The barking sounds they made were… similar to the sounds the previous scavengers made, but also different? They seemed a little… less, somehow, and had a lot less noises that dragons usually used when talking. Their scavenger voices seemed a little softer, though they were chattering quite loudly.

(“Crikey, we’ve got another one!”)

(“How many of these things are snooping around here?”)

(“Now what?”)

The scavengers engaged their barking antics with zest. They seemed to be entirely directing their noises at each other, but all of them were rather intently staring at him. Leaning on strange horizontal bars and pointing at him with their clawless paws.

Cuttlefish suddenly remembered something he did with the last boat-thing that the scavengers responded too. He lifted a single webbed talon out of the water, and waved it back-and forth at the assorted scavengers.

The scavengers all suddenly grew quiet, and stared rather strangely at him indeed. One scavenger eventually seemed to bare its flat teeth in a smile and waved a paw back at him. The scavengers quickly resumed their vocalizations.

(“Heh heh. He looks funny.”)

(“Did he just try to say ‘hi?’”)

(“Looks a little like a big sea lion…”)

(“It looks like it hasn't realised which bloomin’ colour it is.”)

(“I think that’s called ‘turquoise,’ you plonker.”)

(“He’s also got blue and green, there!”)

(“Wasn’t the last one green?”)

(“Is it a he or a she?”)

(“Well, I can’t bloody tell.”)

Cuttlefish had no idea why, but he decided these scavengers were pretty funny. They sounded funny, anyway. Something about the way they directed their phrases at each other? Did all scavengers sound like this when they were together? These ones didn’t seem particularly scared of him. If they weren’t looking directly and waving their paws at him, Cuttlefish might have thought they were almost ignoring him.

It felt a little odd being so close to a bunch of scavengers. Odd too, that he would be so interested in watching a bunch of scavengers chatter at each other, bearing in mind all that he’d learned about scavengers so far: He should probably be trying to lunge up to grab and drag one of them into the water with him. Cuttlefish didn’t want to do that, though. He didn’t want to hunt these scavengers. He didn't come here wanting to hunt them. He didn’t care if the scrolls said hunting them was what he was supposed to do.

Though it wasn’t what he had risked coming all the way over here to do - try to see a scavenger den up close - watching a bunch of scavengers bark at each other was surprisingly entertaining for whatever reason.

Cuttlefish reached his raised talon up and touched it to the top of his head, where something hit him. What was that? He sniffed at his talon. It smelled kind of funny.

He wrinkled his snout at the scavengers. They continued their chattering match unabated:

(“Think that look’s for you, Steve.”)

(“What’re we supposed to do now, sir?”)

(“With Fishy, here? Probably try to get him like the last one.”)

(“With what? Hit ‘im with the four-inch gun?”)

(“Alive, twat. Smart people want to know more about these thing when they’re still kicking.”)

(“Fish it out of the water?”)

(“Well, in that case, anyone have a line handy?”)

(“How we supposed to get ‘im, then? Anyone got any ideas?”)

Cuttlefish thought these scavengers were a lot like the ones on the other boat-thing. If perhaps slightly less excited to see him, as weird as that was in the first place. He found himself worrying if that was why scavengers always kept getting caught.

(“Oooh, I got it! Let’s net ‘im with that monster tangle of wires in the dinghy!”)

(“Are you having a laugh??”)

(“Distract Fishy while someone gets it!”)

(“Bagsy!”)

One of the pale scavengers ducked away from the group towards something farther up on the huge boat-thing. Cuttlefish had absolutely no idea what these scavengers were up to, or what they were chattering about. He still remembered that scavengers were supposed to be rather noisy with each other, but this seemed a little much. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering what they could possibly be talking about, as though they were talking at all.

Another of the scavengers that remained to gawk at him suddenly leaned over the horizontal bars, and seemed to bark directly at Cuttlefish this time:

(“OI! Sea Dragon! It’s too early for this shite! May we be so rude to ask you to kindly come back just before noon?”)

Cuttlefish started, he was not expecting one of the scavengers to start shouting at him. What could it possibly be doing that for?

“Uhhh…” He mumbled, staring up at the noisy scavenger. He truly had little idea what was happening. He heard a weird clattering noise come from somewhere on the boat-thing, out of sight.

The scavenger, apparently, had more to shout about: (“No? Come to pass the early morning chat, are we? In that case: Horrid weather we’re having, eh? Entirely too hot! A nice rain shower every now and again ‘d do wonders to cool things down, if I should be so bold to say. Wouldn’t you think so? Living underwater as you do?”)

Cuttlefish tilted his head sideways at the scavenger barking at him. Scavengers being weird was definitely one thing those scrolls were accurate about beyond a doubt. That was for sure.

The scavenger continued to articulate its nonsense at him:

(“Perhaps not? Could we bother you with some refreshments? We have… uh… fantastic dried biscuits. And tea. We fortunately have tea! How do you take yours?”)

The last series of barks seemed to have another inflection, rather like the last one the scavenger produced. It kind of made it sound like the peculiar mammal was asking him questions. A strange thought that was.

Cuttlefish heard another clattering noise come from up the boat-thing. The scavenger quickly continued:

(“No tea for you, then? Well, I simply must apologise for the inconvenience, but may we be so rude as to bother you with some feature entertainment of ours? Such as - but not limited to - THE TWAT NET!”)

Without warning, the barking scavenger suddenly barked extra loud, leaned back upright and dramatically flung one of its skinny arms out to the side and back, as if trying to direct attention to something occurring just behind it.

What that something was supposed to be - indeed, if it were something at all - Cuttlefish had no idea. Literally nothing else changed. As if he for some reason started believing a scavenger barking would get anything to happen in the first place.

The rest of the scavengers were quiet, for some reason. One of them held a paw against the upper part of its face and seemed to exhale significantly.

The young SeaWing regarded the pale scavengers for a few moments. I should probably be taking notes, or something. He mused to himself. This was some very strange behavior indeed.

He was considering casually slipping back underwater, (slowly, he had no idea how these weird things would react to sudden movement) when suddenly: There was a loud bark sound, and a big, snarled knot of gray line heaved out of nowhere, and careened over the boat-thing’s side–

Straight at him.

Cuttlefish’s eyes widened. Oh no.

He didn’t have time to react before the cluster of loose lines hit him. Smacking right into his neck and going over his shoulders, the shockingly heavy mess of wires fell over his wings and around his limbs.

He hurriedly ducked back underwater, flipping over himself in the process and getting the tangle across even more of him.

Thrashing. He was thrashing back and forth in a panic. He had to get free of the lines. He tried to wiggle himself out of the unexpected snare. The wires seemed to crawl over him on their own.

The lines, whatever they were, were really strong. He couldn’t break them. He tried to push and pull himself around every-which-way; they still held him. His wings were already caught up in it: he could barely move them at all. He tried to use his foretalons to scrape the thick wires off. The lines had gotten around his forelegs. He couldn’t reach them very far. His shoulders weren’t flexible enough to be able to reach around to his back.

Oh no, oh no–

Cuttlefish tried to use his hindlegs and tail to paddle away from the boat-thing. He had to get free. Had to get distance. The lines looped themselves over him again. They tangled even more. The momentum from his off-center attempt at pushing off sent him spinning in the water. The wires were all around.

Suddenly, something in the lines jerked. An immense force started to drag him back up the surface. He tried to fight back. The wires– they were all around him.

Oh no, oh no, oh no–

This time the light and air of the surface seemed to sting him as he was slowly dragged kicking out of the water. The snarl proved able to hold his weight– he was being steadily lifted straight out of the sea.

Cuttlefish coughed up water again and breathed heavily. His tail thrashed below him, only prompting him into slow spin as he dangled helplessly. He twisted his neck to look at the scavengers and the boat-thing.

A bar-thing had extended over the side of the construct just over him, which the mess of line seemed to be connected to. A high-pitched whining and clicking noise accompanied him being slowly lifted into the air.

Cuttlefish stared wide-eyed at the pale scavengers. They stared back. Did he actually just get caught by a bunch of scavengers? There was no way he’d just been caught by scavengers. What was going to happen to him? Since when did scavengers have the ability to literally catch dragons like this? What are they going to do to him?

He’d been caught by the very creatures that dragons were supposed to catch. This was not supposed to happen.

This is bad. This is really bad.

The scavengers, previously quiet, suddenly decided they had more to bark about:

(“...Would you still be interested in some refreshments, mate?”)

(“Well, would you look at that.”)

(“We got ‘im!”)

(“I… cannot believe it. You wankers managed to catch Fishy with a cack-handed net. Now I’ve seen everything.”)

(“Now what’ll we do?”)

(“... Let’s take it back to shore, I suppose. The boys in charge of the other one ought to find this interesting.”)

(“Oi! What’s that thing tied to ‘im? That don’t look like we did it!”)

A bunch of the scavengers leaned towards Cuttlefish, pointing at him with their paws and chattering indistinctly. A lot more scavengers started to slowly appear from little doors and things across the boat-thing, seemingly attracted by the commotion.

Cuttlefish was left to dangle helplessly as many, many scavengers emerged, moved about, retreated, and did all kinds of things he couldn’t keep track of. They were evidently very busy. Possibly almost as busy as his own brain worrying itself to pieces.

What is going on? What is happening? Why is this happening? What is going to happen to me?

What have I gotten myself into?

Eventually, the enormous boat-thing– which Cuttlefish was now stuck to– rumbled and gently accelerated. Slowly turning around the giant pod of other hulks towards the shore.

Well, looks like you might finally get to go ashore for the first time. An optimistic part of his mind pointed out.

Would have hoped for it to have been under better circumstances… He replied to himself.

Congratulations. You finally get to see scavengers and their den up close. Just like you wanted. Another voice snarked.

Oh, dear…

***

>Nearby Safe Harbor_

Cuttlefish was unceremoniously flopped onto a long platform of flat wood, eliciting a loud creaking plunk! on the wood’s part and wincing grunt on his.

The line that snared him was released from the boat-thing, leaving him tangled up on the long wooden platform in an awkward position. He tried to push himself up to his talons, but his haphazardly-restrained limbs made it difficult.

He’d only just managed to roll upright when pounding biped footsteps surrounded him– scavengers with various things rushed to close him in on the platform.

Cuttlefish instinctively flinched back from them. His brain sparked with disjointed thoughts as alarm took over.

He just wanted to see the scavenger den. He didn’t want the scavengers of that den to, well, get him. He remembered reading that scavengers were aggressive near their dens when dragons came close.

He didn’t expect ‘aggressive’ would pertain to… whatever it was that just happened to him.

Namly being actually captured by scavengers. If it literally hadn’t just happened to him, he would never have believed such a thing possible. It was such an absurd reverse in the natural way of things that it never would have ever occurred to even relatively imaginative (and perhaps fretful) dragonets like him.

Through the confusion, Cuttlefish was suddenly stuck by what he remembered was supposed to happen to scavengers caught by dragons. While we were on the topic of ‘order reversion,’ that was what his traitorous mind followed-up with.

Needless to say: if he wasn’t panicking before, he certainly was now.

The dragonet attempted to lurch to his feet and do something. Anything. He had no idea what. Fight? Flee? He wasn't sure anymore what he was doing, or what he was thinking. He just had to do something.

It was suddenly as though his mind had become blinded– like another SeaWing had lit up all their glowing stripes as bright as could be done right in front of him, preventing him from being able to see anything else.

All his mind could see in that moment was fear; not a slow, creeping dread induced by staring into an unknowably vast, seemingly bottomless watery abyss. Rather, this was an absolute hysteric fright that gripped his awareness and blocked his mind from being able to think about anything else.

Eyes wild, the little SeaWing slipped and tripped over his wet talons and tangled wings, sprawling back on the platform with a squawk. He hit his head on the wood upon impact.

The wires felt like they were tightening around him on their own as if they were huge snakes: making it harder to move, harder to breathe.

He could hear the scavengers around him barking rather loudly. Whether at him or at each other, he didn’t know.

Head planted forehead-down on the rough-feeling dark brown wood, Cuttlefish squinted his eyes closed, hyperventilating. He tried to block everything out.

I promise I never hunted any scavengers! I promise I didn’t come here to hunt any scavengers! He pleaded uselessly to only himself, as though that would make any difference.

He made a, rather embarrassing, squeaking whine noise when he felt something sharp poke against either side of his neck. Just between his gills and head.

This is it. I’m done for.

This wasn’t even fair! He was just a little dragonet! Not even a full-grown adult! He wasn’t cut out to fight off a whole pack of scavengers that had him tangled up, and sharp things against his neck!

Cuttlefish expected to feel what was probably the metal-claw things he’d read so much about being driven through the soft scales on his throat. He sat there for a few moments, continuing to expect it. He expected it for a little while longer.

What next he rather felt was something heavy-feeling pushing his head down, and something rough-feeling going tightly around his snout. Holding it closed.

Oh, right. My teeth. Cuttlefish remembered. Those might have been useful…

Mako had once remarked that he would’ve been useless in a fight. Forgetting about his own weapons probably warranted that.

Something else– several something else's, for that matter– grabbed onto the wires looped all over his shoulders and wings. Those somethings started to pull upwards.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

Cuttlefish slowly wobbled to his feet, gripping the wood below with his claws as though an undercurrent were about to rip him away. The scavengers around him were making lots of barking chattering noises.

Speaking of fighting… Cuttlefish suddenly considered. He could just try to fight his way away from the scavengers. Even with his wings and legs all tangled up and snout tied closed, he was still pretty strong compared to them, right? He also still had his tail.

Cuttlefish cautiously cracked an eye open, wincing as the rising sun hit it directly. He tried to look to where one of the scavengers was, and was immediately taken aback.

They were… bigger than he was expecting.

Standing upright, he found himself even having to look slightly up to meet the eyes of one of the scavengers standing right next to him. From the ways the scrolls always described them, he’d kind of expected them to be a lot smaller up close. Then again, those scrolls were written by adults, and he was a dragonet.

Even then, the idea of having to look up at a scavenger felt weird, somehow.

The scavengers around him all stood at, close to, or just above eye level to him. It made him feel uncomfortable. It made him think these scavengers could really hurt him if they tried.

Cuttlefish felt the wound kelp strap that kept his scroll and inkpot tied to him, the very thing he’d gone to all this trouble to try and use, suddenly vanished from around his body. Did the scavengers just steal his scroll?

He felt the need to protest this, but the scavengers had already pointed a few apparently sharp-looking things at him, as if to threaten him. Instead of stabbing him, they started to pull him by the wires down the long platform-thing. Towards the shore.

It was at that moment, Cuttlefish realized that he didn’t remember how to walk.

That wasn’t actually true. He of course knew how to walk; but it had been a very (to him) long time since he had done so. He’s spent his entire life, except for a few weeks when his parents taught him how to fly as a much smaller dragonet, swimming underwater. Aside from a few short bursts of flight or occasional hour or so sitting on a rock, swimming was all he had known before or since then.

Completely outside of the water for the first time in a long time, he felt heavy. So heavy. That he was in a dangerous situation, stressed out, and surrounded by completely new sounds and smells like nothing he’d ever known before compounded to disorientate and render him unstable.

The scavengers dragged him forward. He tried to keep from tripping over his talons again, awkwardly hobbling on his tangled legs. He squinted his eyes closed again to shield them from the glare of the awakening sun. Though it and the bombardment of strange shore-sounds against his ears had already given him a headache.

Eventually, upon another unwieldy step forward, did his webbed foretalon not contact the weird flat wood below him, but instead something crumbly-feeling and dry.

Cuttlefish risked peeking his eyes open. Dirt? Is this dirt? Given he was on the land, there was a decidedly good chance that this was dirt. At least in his opinion.

The brown stuff he was now walking on didn’t feel much like sand, the only other land-material he was familiar with. This was firmer, and he noticed bits of it sticking to his wet talons as he walked over it.

He wrinkled his snout. Ew.

The SeaWings dragonet kept being reminded that he really shouldn’t be letting a bunch of scavengers of all things drag him around, but every time he considered trying to fight them off, his mind kept circling around to how easy it would be for just one of them to stab him if he tried to push the others off.

Even if this might prove the best opportunity he still had to break free that he was going to have, and his chances of escape only got worse the longer he stayed, he was still afraid of getting stabbed.

Coward.

… Maybe. He sulked.

Cuttlefish looked at the ground as he trudged along. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, accompanying all the other strange land noises he could hardly conceive the origins of. He tried to keep himself from imagining what was in store for him.

Maybe I ought to apologize to Oyster and Clam for this… They were right, after all. There were a lot of dragons he probably ought to apologize to for this. His friends, his mother, even Mako.

The scavengers around him stopped walking. He stopped too. They started chattering at each other again. They, to his mild surprise, started to untangle the wires from his body. He could totally imagine Oyster snarking ‘I told you so’ at him for this. He could imagine Clam perking up and numbly asking what she was referring to. He could imagine–

Cuttlefish looked up at something ahead of them. He could imagine seeing… Dark green scales?

The young SeaWing felt a burst of energy. Whether it was of alarm of excitement, even he wasn’t fully sure.

Green scales? Is there another dragon already here? Another SeaWing? What’re they doing here? What–

Cuttlefish realized he recognized that color of scales. He realized that there was no other dragon with scales quite like them, and he realized that he had not seen those scales in quite some time. His breath caught in his throat.

…How? What…?

Nothing about any of this made a droplet of sense. From the boat-things, to the den, to the scavengers themselves. Nothing about this situation seemed at all reasonable or believable. Least sensible of all, that he would see those scales in a place like this.

But for maybe one of the first times in his memory: Cuttlefish didn’t care that it didn’t make sense.

***

“Oh, shit, he’s loose!”

The rather mopey blue-green small green sea dragon they’d fished up wrenched itself free of the wires that had kept it all tangled up, hobbled and crashed to the ground; got up, and repeated the process a couple times; and then galloped full tilt at Kevin, the green sea dragon they’d caught much earlier.

“They’re both males! Are they gonna fight?!”

“Shit, we’re cooked.”

“Quick! Get the- uh…”

…

“Uhh… I dun’ think they ain’t fightin’ none.”

“What the hell?”

“I ain’t nuthin’ of a zoologist or nuthin’ like that, but I dun’ think no territory fight should involve the big one licking the smaller one.”

“Okay… what’s goin’ on?”

***

When Argonaut felt something heavy, and kind of wet, barrel into his side– his first thought was that one of the scavengers had finally completely lost its pearls.

He whipped his head around to hiss at the unbearably annoying disturbance - that was all he was gonna do, promise - but his jaw was left hanging open by what he saw.

Many other dragons at the enclave remarked that his only successful hatchling looked a little strange. Light-green wings, webs and underbelly with darker green scales on his talons and lower jaw not unlike his own coloration; Dark blue scales on the top of his snout, head, and down his spine like his mother; the rest of his scales a blue-green teal color.

Certainly, it was an unusual combination. Argonaut had never seen any other dragon with anything like it. But, especially right now, he thought it was beautiful. He was certain there was no other dragon in the entire ocean anything like the little dragon that wore those scales.

“[-Father? Father?! Father!]” The little dragon mass of turquoise scales and blinking lights flashed.

Argonaut hurriedly wound back, bracing his wings’ foreclaws against the ground and planting his front talons on the smaller dragon’s shoulders, looking him over. There was absolutely no way this should be happening; but that didn’t matter to him at this moment.

“-Cuttlefish?” he breathed.

The dragonet’s head bobbed up and down frantically. [“Yes! Yes!”] He flashed with the stripes on his face.

Argonaut bit the rope bind on his snout apart, and promptly sniffed him all around his face, neck, and shoulders– instinctively checking for any latent injuries. Smelling none, he raised his wings and threw them around his dragonet. Squeezing as tight as he could.

Cuttlefish babbled something incoherent as he pushed his head into Argonaut’s neck, breaking into a brief coughing fit. Argonaut licked the top of his head a few times, and they held onto one another for a time.

“What- What are you doing here? Are you okay??” He demanded.

“Are you okay!?” Cuttlefish squawked back, looking up at him. “What’re you doing here?”

“Wha- I asked you first.” Argonaut said.

“You answer first.” Cuttlefish insisted.

The older SeaWing rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine. I’m okay. I’ve been… stuck here for a while.”

“Wait! A while!?” Cuttlefish immediately interrupted. “How long is a while?”

“A while.” Said only Argonaut, flatly.

For some reason, his son seemed to sigh, relieved. Closing his eyes with a groan, sinking into Argonaut again.

Unable to support the dragonet’s weight and his own on his own hindlegs for long, he slowly lowered both of them to the ground. Cuttlefish moved until he was against Argonaut’s side. He tented a wing over the smaller dragon’s body.

He felt the need to inquire as to why Cuttlefish would find the prospect of being stuck here for a long period of time relieving, but there were more pressing matters at talon.

“I was sent by officials at the Summer Palace to investigate a report of strange things around a scavenger den that suddenly showed up, and proved themselves able to kill dragons.” He waved a wing towards the ocean. “I’m sure you’re… aware of what those things are by this point? Needless to say: they got me. I’ve been here since then.”

The scavengers got me, but they didn’t kill me. I’ve a pretty good idea why they didn’t, but it’s going to be a little more than a shock to him. Argonaut mused to himself.

But there was something much more pressing he was worried about at this moment. He wrapped his talons around Cuttlefish’s.

“What about you? You weren’t… ordered here, were you?” Argonaut asked tentatively.

Cuttlefish stared at him for a few moments with a blank look, but eventually shook his head. “No, I wasn’t ‘ordered’ here. I came here on my own.”

It was the dark green SeaWing’s turn to sigh, relieved, this time. He hadn’t been conscripted. Though he quickly did something of a double-take.

“Wait… what do you mean ‘on your own?’”

The dragonet shifted in place under his wing. “...I, uh… came out here on my own to see the boat-things.”

“How did you know they were here?”

“I’ve, uh, seen them before?”

“How did you know they were here, specifically?”

“We tracked them down to be here after they first showed up. That’s when we saw them blow up those NightWings.”

Argonaut gave him an incredulous look. “You knew these things were dangerous, and yet you deliberately came all the way out here on your own?” Snuck off, I would even bet.

“Uh… yeah.” Cuttlefish nodded.

They both stared at each other for a moment.

“...You’re grounded forever.”

“Wh- hey!”

Argonaut smacked his face with a webbed talon. “Cuttlefish, I know you’re smarter than this.” Dolphin is going to be so mad…

The dragonet in question only muttered something sounding like: “Still not fair,” and tucked his head under his own wing– still enveloped in turn under Argonaut’s.

Nothing is fair, buddy. He kept that to himself. He really hoped Cuttlefish wasn’t witness to the destroyed NightWing corpse, or the machinations that led to its death. All dragons quickly were made used to blood and death, but whatever had happened to those NightWings was beyond what he was personally disposed to let his dragonet see.

Argonaut looked up. A bunch of discolored scavengers were loitering around, observing the strange spectacle. Keeping their distance, nonetheless. He wrinkled his snout at them.

“How is the enclave?” He asked Cuttlefish passively, trying to direct the topic away from the crazy mammals for a little while longer.

“Fine.”

Argonaut rolled his eyes again. “How’s mother?”

“...She- she really misses you, I guess.” Was all Cuttlefish said.

Dolphin’s probably not been doing too great, then. That disheartened him. Cuttlefish sneaking off isn’t going to help any…

“... I really missed you, too.” The dragonet murmured, touching his tail to Argonaut’s.

“Well, I’m here.” Argonaut gripped one of his son’s talons within his own, sighing through his nose. Now wasn’t the time to get annoyed at his dragonet. Later, sure. But this was probably still supposed to be the ‘happy reunion’ phase.

Then again, Cuttlefish was looking rather sulky all-of-the-sudden.

“You know what I’ve said about moping, Cuttlefish.”

“I’m not moping.” The dragonet in question protested, “My head just really hurts.”

“Did the scavengers hit you in the head, too?”

“Uh… no?”

Argonaut tilted his head to the side, confused. “How’d they get you, then?”

“I, uh, got stuck in a net.”

“Got stuck in a net…?”

“Yeah.”

How does a dragon “get stuck in a net?” It probably wouldn’t be hard to become ensnared over the wings, but it also didn’t seem hard to escape if you knew what you were doing. And kept calm. He kept from pointing that out, though.

That aside, what Cuttlefish said indicated he indeed hadn’t been captured in a manner similar to himself. Namely through being forcefully battered unconscious by an underwater explosion-cylinder. That was good, for the scavenger’s sakes. He hadn’t tried to hit any of them with his tail, yet. But that could change.

It was probable, then, that Cuttlefish was complaining of headache because this was the first time he’d truly been ashore. Under what was no doubt a stressful situation, at that.

Coming up on land for the first time will do that to a dragon. That was another thing that rather sunk for SeaWings that truly lived out in the deep ocean like them. “Have you remembered to use your lungs and wings? I hope so, or being on land like this is really going to sink for you.”

Cuttlefish nodded under both of their wings. “I still feel like a sick rock, anyway.”

“Well, it would have been a lot worse if you never exercised your lungs. Trust me.” Argonaut snorted, remembering something funny that came of being conscripted into the General Army.

“At least you didn’t try to immediately swim up a freshwater river from the ocean. Knew one SeaWing who lived in the Kingdom proper his whole life that tried that. Came up spluttering and flopping around like a dying fish. Pretty funny for the rest of us, though.”

“Mrmph.”

“...You’re sure you’ve made sure to use your lungs every now and again?” Argonaut poked him.

“Yes, father. I’m sure.”

“Alright, good.” He nodded. “You’ll feel better in a bit, then. Just let your body get used to being on land.”

The two dragons could have sat next to each other in (relatively) peaceful silence for that time, but Argonaut felt it prudent to try and distract Cuttlefish a little with some small talk, to get his mind off how much it hurts. That it’d been some time since he’d had anyone to actually talk with was also a plus.

“What prompted you to swim all the way over here from the enclave? Was there something else other than ‘just wanting to see the boat-things,’ as you called them?” Argonaut felt as though there was another reason Cuttlefish would go so far out of his way and risk getting in trouble than just trying to see something he’d already seen before.

He also had a suspicion it may have had something to do with that one scrawny-looking scavenger being able to say ‘cuttlefish’ in dragon for no reason.

“I… I guess I wanted to see the scavenger den up close?” The dragonet offered.

He wanted to see a scavenger den up close. The SeaWing sighed internally. Since when was he interested in scavenger dens? Enough to try something like this?

“Have scavengers piqued your interest?” He eventually asked.

Cuttlefish brought his head out to look at his father. “I… Yeah, I guess so.” He said. “I’ve read all about them. Tried to, I– well, I read all the scrolls we have on them at the enclave. I, uh, wanted to try and see them up close for myself, though.”

Argonaut snorted. Well, in that case, you’re certainly going to get what you wanted. Then again, maybe Cuttlefish could distract that one really chatty scavenger for a change.

Still, he found it interesting that his son would have taken it upon himself to try to investigate scavengers, even reading a bunch of scrolls on them. That was certainly more than he himself ever did; he didn’t think he’d ever read a single scroll about scavengers in his life.

Maybe he knows more about them than I do. Maybe he’d be able to make better sense of their antics than I can. Maybe he’d even be able to navigate this situation better than he could, but he didn’t want to put that on the little dragon’s back.

Argonaut did, however, kind of want to see how Cuttlefish would react to the scavengers trying to learn to speak using him. Assuming he already was more interested in scavengers than he himself was, going into this. The weird mammals had managed to pick up a couple more dragon words since he had realized that was their intention with all this; he let himself think that Cuttlefish’s reaction to that might be rather funny. For him, anyway.

“Uh, father?” Cuttlefish said, now looking around. “...What are we surrounded by?”

It seemed, in Argonaut’s opinion, that they were surrounded by tents. He himself wasn’t super familiar with them, but he’d remember hearing that Blister’s SandWing contingent often used them in their base camps. Temporary land camps in general, tended to be used to shelter from relentless sun, wind, or rain. He’d never heard of scavengers using tents, but then again, he’d also never heard of scavengers having a military.

The green SeaWing sighed. How does he go about explaining this?

“Well, you see-”

“(TINTENFISCHE!)”

Argonaut winced. Speak of the scavengers, and they appear.

He didn’t hear them coming this time. He himself was a little distracted, it would seem. He’d still come to recognize that scavenger’s little voice in particular. It seemed that Cuttlefish would get his introduction sooner rather than later.

***

Cuttlefish wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking at.

On one talon, it looked like a bunch of… big dark green fabric drape structures in almost perfect rows. That wasn’t anything like he’d read scavenger dens to be like.

On the other talon, was he really in the middle of a scavenger den? Was his father really right next to him? Why was this happening?

He heard a particularly loud scavenger bark come from somewhere among the lanky creatures observing them. He felt his father stiffen a little beside him. He felt the need to inquire as to why.

His father beat him to it: “Alright, Cuttlefish. This is probably going to be a lot. But you’re already interested in scavengers, right?” He looked him in the eye.

Cuttlefish tilted his head to the side, confused. “What was what going to be a lot? Why-?”

He suddenly saw a scavenger running up to them. Another pale, rather skinny one. It looked a little smaller than the others. The scavenger abruptly stopped before reaching them, nearly stumbling over itself in the process. Looking at him in particular with huge bright blue eyes.

Cuttlefish started a little, but the scavenger didn’t do anything else; other than start barking:

“(Ich erinnere mich an dich! Hallo, Tintenfische-drache! Können Sie sich an mich erinnern?)”

Actually, Cuttlefish might have recognized this scavenger a little. Was this somehow the same one he had played with on the underwater-boat-thing all that time ago?

“Well, Cuttlefish,” Father started, sounding resigned, “This is a scavenger named ‘Hans’ I don’t know why. That’s his name. I guess he’s trying to say hello.”

That… What? He was certain he misheard something in there. His head probably still wasn’t sorted out or something.

But then he heard another dragon voice; or perhaps that wasn’t quite accurate:

“Hello… Cut-cuttleFISH! Hello! Mine- my name… was Hans!”

“Is.” Father said, seemingly automatically.

“Is!” The scavenger amended, “My name… is Hans! Is…”

Cuttlefish only stared, at a loss. “Wh- what…?” He breathed.

“I didn’t teach him that, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Father interjected. “Well, actually I did. But probably not in the way you’re thinking? I didn’t train them. I don’t think anyone did. I think they did on their own.”

The dragonet had no idea what that was supposed to mean. “...What? What’re you… why?”

Father seemed to suddenly consider something: “Is there any chance the scrolls you read about scavengers mentioned them forming military encampments? Or trying to talk in dragon language? Or building huge stuff like that?” He waved his wing towards the ocean, indicating the boat-things.

Cuttlefish shook his head numbly. “N-no…” He breathed.

Father huffed. “That would have been useful to know about beforetalon…” He muttered.

The little SeaWing felt as though ice was beginning to crawl through his veins. No, the scrolls never mentioned anything like that…

He looked at the scavenger a short distance before him. The same one from the boat-thing that he played the light-blink game with. It looked almost excited to see him.

“Hello, Cuttle-fish! My name… is Hans!” The scavenger repeated, with apparent difficulty.

The scavenger is trying to talk? To me? There was a tiny, almost unnoticeable spark of excitement within him. Scavengers can talk?

Something else, much different than excitement, emerged from within him and snuffed it. The ice spread to his spine.

Scavengers can talk?

The scrolls never mentioned anything like that.

Scavengers can make a military? Like an army? Like what us SeaWings have to fight off invaders?

The scrolls never mentioned anything like that.

Scavengers can… talk?

Could scavengers talk this entire time?

Oh, no.

The scrolls never warned of such a thing. Why?

What did they hint of?

“Many cooking recipes have been spawned from preparing their flesh…”

Oh, no.

The world was starting to feel cold.

“Cooking styles such as frying, smoking, boiling, steaming, grilling…”

Please, no.

If scavengers can talk, and think enough to form a military…

“Pulled, steak, ribs, legs…The diminutive creatures are often served at important ceremonial banquets and dinners.”

Cuttlefish couldn’t breathe.

Scavengers can talk? Scavengers can’t talk. Please don’t let them talk. There’s no way scavengers can talk. Not after… no, no, no, no, no, no…

The scavengers– they were trying to talk to him this whole time?

His mind kept quoting the scrolls he read back at him, trying to find anything that could help explain this. Anything that could have warned of this.

“Tenderized scavenger meat is a very popular snack in particular, and scavenger veal has always fetched a high price…”

NO! PLEASE, NO!

His eyes burned as though he was staring directly into the sun. He couldn’t breathe. Faster and faster, his lungs tried to pull in air. Shaking. He could feel shaking. His body was shaking. Bile. He could taste bile on his tongue. He was dry heaving.

Why didn’t the scrolls warn of this? Why did nobody warn of this? Why was the only thing he’d been told of scavengers was their worth as food?

Scavengers can talk. Can scavengers talk? Scavengers can do other dragon things like make a military? Do they have a kingdom? What are their dens? Why can they talk?

Why have- what have we- oh, no. No, no, no, no, please no. Anything but that. No, no no–

Father was grabbing him. He was coughing. Coughing as though he were trying to bring his own lungs up. Father was saying something. He couldn’t hear. Was the scavenger also saying something?

Scavengers. So many scavengers. Eaten. Set on fire. Cut apart. Hunted. Killed. How many? How many? How many?

Oh, that can’t be– anything but that, please– no, please no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, no, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, PLEASE NO–

It was too awful. It was too much.

Cuttlefish broke down.

***

Cuttlefish was hyperventilating. His body was twitching and shaking erratically. Lights flickering and strobing wildly with emotional overload. He was coughing as though desperately trying to disgorge water from his lungs, though there was no water to do so. It made him sound as though he were trying to cough his own lungs out. His head was pointed at Hans-the-scavenger right in front of him, but his eyes were blank.

Argonaut hurriedly closed his wing over Cuttlefish once again in an attempt to console the dragonet. He… maybe should have guessed this was to happen.

“Cuttlefish. You need to calm down.” Argonaut ordered.

His dragonet choked out something incoherent, and suddenly retched bile into the dirt right in front of him. He quickly buried his face in Argonaut’s shoulder, hiding it from the scavengers around them. A sharp, high-pitched wailing sound came from his throat. He was keening.

The green SeaWing’s mind shifted modes. Keening was a unique sound that only dragonets could make, losing it as they got older. Usually, only hatchlings made it when they really needed their parents’ attention.

The only other time Argonaut had ever heard Cuttlefish make the sound was when he was first learning to fly. He’d messed up a landing and broke his wing. The keening sound did not only mean that Cuttlefish was upset.

It meant he was in distress.

As the father, the only thing that sound meant to him was that he had to make it stop.

He needed to do whatever he could to fix what was distressing his dragonet.

But he knew he couldn’t. He already knew what the cause was. He knew he couldn’t fix it.

After all, he didn’t seriously expect the “scrolls about scavengers” Cuttlefish said to have read mentioned them being able to learn to talk or anything of the sort. If anything, the dragonet was probably more aware of what dragons liked to… use scavengers for… than he himself was.

This was his fault. Argonaut, like all dragons, was no stranger to death. The sights of other dragons that had met gruesome ends was something he’d become almost used to in his time in the General Army, and even before that. It took a lot to truly faze him.

Cuttlefish, on the other talon, was just a dragonet. Not only that, but a dragonet he’d taken a deliberate effort to shield from some of the more awful things in Pyrrhia when he was able to be around. Other adults never agreed with him doing so, but he didn’t want his only dragonet to turn out as bleak and grim as himself. Maybe he never wanted to see his dragonet grow out of that cheerful, curious spark that everyone else lacked.

But now something awful had come for Cuttlefish, and it was his fault that the dragonet was unprepared for it.

“(Tintenfische?)” Hans-the-Scavenger said softly, reaching a paw out to the distraught dragonet. The pale scavenger refrained from touching him, though, and retracted the appendage. He tapped the paw against his own leg a few times, muttered something, and hurriedly pattered off.

Still strange. No matter what else, Argonaut still thought scavengers were weird.

***

Hans wasn’t sure what was going on, or why.

Somehow, the Cuttlefish-dragon from all that time earlier had shown back up seemingly on his own, and was now here. He really wanted to see if the friendly-seeming water dragon would remember him. It seemed an off chance, but one nonetheless. So, he came over to say hi as quickly as he could manage.

But now it was incredibly obvious that Cuttlefish-dragon was upset. To the point where it looked like he was doing something like the water-dragon equivalent to crying. He’d no idea why.

“...Cuttlefish?” If that is your name? Hans tried, fighting the urge to pet the smaller blue-green creature. What’s the matter? Quar’rahkt’lliu never did anything like this, obviously.

Did we scare Grahkt’lliu? Is that why he’s upset? That seemed a little silly, given the water dragon was still a good but bigger than a human, though not taller, and probably a good bit stronger.

Still, it seemed from the size difference between the two water dragons that Grahk’lliu was probably a juvenile. Hence why Quar’rahkt’lliu was willing to put one of his much bigger wings over the smaller water dragon. Which seemed sweet, to Hans.

Silly as it were, the idea that they’d scared Cuttlefish-dragon into acting this way made Hans feel bad. He should definitely try to make it better, if he can.

Okay, think. This water-dragon is probably a juvenile. How do you make kids feel better after being frightened? Hans had little idea. That wasn’t exactly something he had a lot of experience in.

He didn’t, but his older brother might have. (Because reasons.) What did Archie always try to do whenever I got all worked up? Or at least what he did when in a charitable mood.

Hans remembered, but he didn’t think it would work here. Still seemed worth a shot to him, though.

***

Cuttlefish was still showing little signs of calming down on his own, and Argonaut still had little idea how to actually comfort him.

He knew his son well enough to know that just tenting his wing over him and holding his talon wasn’t enough to fix what was making him distraught. He knew he was upset over the scavengers. He knew he didn’t know what to say to make him feel better.

Argonaut rarely knew what to say to make other dragons feel better. He was a little useless that way.

A collection of scavengers had gathered around the outside of their small clearing. Watching the two dragons. Seemingly drawn by the sound of Cuttlefish keening.

That is weird. Argonaut considered. It made sense that a dragon parent would have their attention caught by the sound of a dragonet keening, but those were a bunch of scavengers. Why would a keening sound catch their attention, when they weren’t even dragons to begin with?

While watching the quietly spectating mammals, he caught sight of the Hans-scavenger appear from behind a tent and quickly approach. This time, he was carrying something small in his paws. Something perfectly round, colored white with black spots spread across it.

The peculiar creature approached briskly, and tentatively poked Cuttlefish on a quivering wing with one paw. Chattering something at the dragonet.

The little SeaWing noticeably flinched at the contact, keeping his face concealed against Argonaut.

The scavenger backed up a couple steps, and dropped the white-and-black sphere on the ground. He used a long leg to punt the sphere at Cuttlefish, chattering something again.

The sphere bounced off Cuttlefish’s body, and slowly rolled back to the scavenger– who then used the same leg to stop the sphere in place.

Argonaut watched the strange mammal repeat the process a couple more times, slowly bouncing the sphere off the dragonet. It’s a game. He realized. The scavenger wants Cuttlefish to bounce the sphere back.

Seeing the opportunity, the older SeaWing slowly lifted his wing off his dragonet’s back, releasing him. Cuttlefish, for his part, gradually lifted his head off of his shoulder on the next bounce of the sphere, looking towards Hans-scavenger. Argonaut could see glistening around his eyes.

Tears shed for the sake of scavengers… He thought. That’s not something I ever expected to see.

That, and a dragon and scavenger playing a game together. Neither were things he’d ever conceived.

The scavenger kicked the sphere again, this time soft enough that it contacted Cuttlefish’s tail and didn’t move. The dragonet stared at the white-black thing for what felt like a couple of minutes, then lightly pushed the sphere back with his tail.

The scavenger made an appraising noise, and backed up another few paces. Kicking the sphere back to the dragonet once again. He pushed it back with his tail again.

Argonaut watched the two push the sphere back and forth with a face of open intrigue. Cuttlefish slowly got back up to a sitting position, and then all the way up to his talons. Continuing to return the scavenger’s sphere every time it was kicked to him. The scavenger slowly backed up with every pass, making them both have to push the thing a little harder.

Eventually, Cuttlefish whacked the sphere back towards the scavenger, but it went way off to the side. Rolling to the outside of the small clearing. One of the spectating scavengers stopped it with its own leg, and kicked it back. That one and a few others approached from between the tents.

The sphere eventually rolled its way back out to them, and they seemed to start taking turns kicking it from themselves to Cuttlefish. The dragonet used his tail to return the sphere each time it rolled to him.

He watched his dragonet closely. He could see his breathing slowly stabilize as the scavengers played with him.

Argonaut could hear some of the scavengers barking at each other:

“(Does this mean I don’t gotta be goalie no more?)”

“(Shut up, Norman.)”

“(Lizard kickball. Who would’ve thought?)”

One of the scavengers, upon the sphere rolling to it, used both legs to maneuver it in a way that Argonaut decided definitely took practice on the scavenger’s part.

This is definitely a game to them. Argonaut thought as he watched Cuttlefish and the scavengers kick and push the white-and-black sphere around, the smallest of smiles threatening to sneak its way onto his snout.

His dragonet playing a game, even if it was with scavengers and in such a strange and precarious situation, still made him feel good to see.

A dragon. And scavengers. Playing a game together. He still wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it. That was for sure.

***