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Stroke, stroke, sweep of the wings, stroke, stroke, adjust with the tail. Alaine's breathing was loud in his own ears as he forced himself through the ocean and lifted his head up high in the air while his jaws spread open while his tongue lolled out of his jaws. It was so hard to keep moving, his muscles were burning, but he pushed past it as his eyes focused on the darkness of the ocean that was broken only by the silver stars that danced around him. He swam through the sky itself, a midnight place where the moon was vast and rippled beneath the waves that rolled peacefully around him. The taste of salt was thick in his nose as he kept his tail moving back and forth to guide him through the currents. Each stroke of his powerful legs made his heart contract strangely while his head surged forward, always forward. Each stroke, another stroke away from Canith and those he had left behind.

After he had killed the green dragon, he hadn't been able to shake the feeling of anger and confused grief. The body had been pushed into the ocean, the elf as well, but it had given him no answers. The dragon had been intelligent, been able to speak, hadn't seemed to be under a spell, but he had devoted himself to the elf all the way to death. He wanted to know what they had done to his kind and how they were doing it. It was worst than those who were in the mines, these dragons were being the toys of the elves and that needed to be stopped. He needed to understand what was happening, he needed to find out what they were hiding. His kind were not the play toys of a war! And to do that, the needed to go to Hayden's Spit and the heart of Tomaian training grounds.

Rouro had wanted him to stay longer, to learn to swim better, he had been adamant that he wasn't ready for the ocean yet. Rowan had tried to stop him, she had spoken at length about the summer that would come soon and how Oake would begin to grow the bumps of his horns. She had tried to stop him, her hand had nearly held him back while she spoke passionately about how he would only be going to death. How she couldn't stand the thought of him being lost at Hayden's Spit and sent back to the mines. But it had been Oake that had nearly made him stop on his drive to leave. The little one had clung to his head, bleating and trying to clamber on as he walked away. He had seemed to understand that the drake was leaving him, well and truly leaving him. And that had made the little one cry and bawl, trying to stay against his scales.

I will miss him... Alaine swallowed and lunged forward again, surging with the waves as his eyes remained focused on the dim black outline of an island. I will return to him. He will be grown, but I will return to him. He will remember me.

_ _

Alaine surged further ahead, trying to follow the waves as they surged towards the shore, he was still far out, but they would aid him. He had depended on the currents to carry him this far, just as Rouro had told him. There were many, but the main one swept through the islands and carried him almost all the way there. Only at the start, and now, did he have to use his legs and aching wings to get him on the right course. It had taken four days swimming in the water, four days in which he had been forced to snatch up fish from the water and swallow them whole to eat along the way, forced to sleep in snatches while he floated on the current, carried along. He was tired, his claws had started to grow soft from the salt water, but he was surging forward towards dry ground. And water. Water was what he needed most of all. His body was craving it so badly that his tongue lolled out at the very thought of it, the edges of his lips were caked with dried salt and scales from the fish he had caught, but still he went on.

The waves themselves were what slipped him towards the shore more than his own paddling movements. It was a shock when his forepaws caught sand beneath them, wet shifting sand that nearly tumbled him head over haunches, but he steadied himself. It was so strange to feel something solid under his paws as he walked forward slowly, his legs trembled beneath him. The world rocked around him, it bucked and bounced as he inched step by step forward. His breathing came out a bit raggedly as he lumbered onto the shore one step at a time. There were rocks that littered around the edges, hard edged and sharp enough that they scraped against his water softened scales, but he ignored them. His head hung heavily as he stumbled forward step by steady step, his tail dragged behind him while he swayed back and forth.

The drake lifted his head slightly, it felt so heavy, but he was able to get it up high enough to see the sharp cliffs that were the bane of Hayden's Spit. They were sheer drop offs, a deterrent to any who tried to land here on ships, but for now it was his hope. There would be no patrols on the base of the cliffs and the half a dozen feet of shore line. His paws stuck in it as he lifted them one after another and groaned. He snuffed the air, but there was only the scent of sand and salt, not fresh sweet water. It didn't matter. For now, he dropped down with a groan, still imagining the feel of the rocking waves, and sprawled out his full length. He needed to sleep, he needed to rest, then he would get up and look for water and the way up the cliffs. For now, sleep.

The dragon spread his wings to either side, the bones ached so badly, but his exhaustion was worse. He swung his tail around him and let out a heavy sigh. Somewhere on Canith, Rowan would be settling down to watch with Rolli. Oake would be sound asleep, peacefully dreaming, miles away. He clung to those thoughts, Rowan and Oake, the small home on the rocky hillside. He wrapped his mind around them and sank into dreamless exhausted sleep.

~ ~ * ~ ~

It took most of the next day for Alaine to locate any amount of water that would satisfy his thirst, a small trickle provided some, but he had to find a spot to climb the cliff before he found a small pool to nearly drain dry. It had been his first move, one that had made him feel more alert, more refreshed and sharper of mind so he could look around the Isle that held his enemies. It wasn't what he expected it to be. Hayden's Spit was no strange place of rocky hills and half mountains, but a place that was wet and filled with strange sweeping valleys and interconnecting lakes and ponds. Wetlands that were interspersed with stretches of smooth hard ground where one could walk easily. Where he did not dare to walk easily.

At first, there was nothing that seemed to give him any idea that an army was housed here, that they ran a war from here and destroyed so many. There were no patrols along the outer cliffs, there were no groups that scouted as he ghosted along the cliffs and filled his days with snapping up food where he could. There wasn't a great deal of game to hunt, but small rodents were plentiful and he had no qualms about snapping them up to fill his stomach. The taste of good rich red meat did him good after subsisting of fish, it filled his stomach as he remained ever vigilant. He saw dragons, those he did see, but at a distance as they flew over the island. And they were never alone, they always bore riders on their backs. He could pick them out easily enough, like growths on his kinds' necks. Parasites that controlled them one way or another.

He spent three days on the edge of the cliff, feeding himself where he could and trying to watch the dragons from afar. Always, his mind went back to the dragon he had killed. He had tried to hold firm to his belief, before, that he would be able to talk sense into the dragons here and they would join him and rise up against the elves. Now, now he was not so sure. Quickwing had killed himself, he hadn't even tried to defend against a deadly blow, he had taken his death as if it were an honorable thing. From his spot by the cliffs, he was able to see that there were more than just a handful of dragons. There were hundreds. Hundreds of dragons that might believe themselves just as content as Quickwing saw himself.

_How do I explain freedom to creatures who believe that they love their tormenters? _ Alaine had no answer to that question, he had only hope when he set inland.

He had no notion of how large the island was or how to gauge it, except the otterkin had been specific in saying that it had been truly massive enough that it should have been a country all in its own right. Large enough it would take nearly a week to travel across at a good pace, but he found out just how large within the first day of walking away from the shore. Plains, sweeping plains that meshed the edges of the wetland, extended as far as the eye could see. They were dotted with small fortress like things, walled cities that were tucked away and situated around lakes so that there was no easy access to them. Roads, broad winding roads, they were everywhere once he passed the wetlands. Roads so large that he could have spread his wings and not reach either side. No mountains, no places where he could hunt wild sheep or goats, no real game to be seen. It was a different landscape that he had to make his way across. Make his way across, and not be seen.

In the first day of travel he pushed through the muck and mud, covering his gleaming ruby scales with thick layers of black and brown mud before rolling in the midst of some dried grasses. He wriggled and twisted, coating himself with layers of it until it squished into the mud and formed camouflage that would at least help him move through the plains. The lush grasses helped hide him in part, but Rouro had been right, he was large and it was harder than he had expected. Once he was away from the shore he had been forced to see elves. Elves of all shapes and sizes, elves who had covered Hayden's Spit like a virus, a seething mass of society that had built their high walled cities and ruled over the island. A seething virus that roused every bit of bloodlust and anger that had built up in him. Something that could not be let loose, no matter how he quivered with the need to kill, he had to remember what Rowan had told him.

"You wish to move unseen?" Rowan had placed her hand on the bridge of his muzzle. "Then you must cause no damage. You must fight no one, you must be quiet and sly, move at night if you must, but do not harm anyone to arouse suspicion."

"Then what will I do? Go there and skulk around? Do nothing to free my people?" He had growled out, barely contain his annoyance.

"You must learn what you can, knowledge is power, and that power is invaluable. So you must resist the urge to kill or fight, you have to wait for a chance when you know that you'll succeed. You won't be killed. You won't be harmed." Her hand had become tight on his muzzle. "I want you to return to me, I want you to come home."

"I will." He had promised while he had lifted his head up to rub beneath her palm, she smelled so familiar and comforting.

"Promise me, you won't die for no reason. You will not die just because you want to kill them." Her eyes had been so large, he thought they might be watering, holding back tears. Tears for him. He had never had tears for him.

"I promise." He had murmured softly and nuzzled against the palm of her hand. "I will return to you, I won't allow myself to be killed needlessly. I promise."

Those words lingered in his mind as he sprawled out on his belly within the tall grasses one evening and tried his best to hide just outside a small group of elves that had formed barracks and what looked like a practice ground. But his mind wasn't on the gathering, it was on Rowan's words. Home. He had something to go home to. He had someone to go home to. It was a feeling that both soothed and hurt him all at once. There was an ache at being away, his thoughts lingered on Oake and how he must be growing, on the little farm and shed, the spot he sprawled out. Those were what kept him sprawled out in the long grasses with his wings spread out to either side and his head rested right against the back of his forepaws so that he wasn't drawing any attention to himself.

The men in front of him were settled outside of the fortress like city that loomed up in the distance. He had no hope of going there, though he noticed that dragons were frequently landing and taking off from the peaks. He had briefly glanced over the walls, but he couldn't get close to them. Anyone looking down from the high walls would be able to see him in the grasses no matter that he was coated in muck and mud. It was easier to find small groups of elves and try to creep up on them so he could strain to hear their conversations. He had hoped that the first group he camped out near, would give him the answers that he sought, but they hadn't. They had only spoken of the war, the great battles and their hopes to win honor for their homes. The second was much like the first. He had spent weeks listening to small groups, creeping and prowling like a skulking cat.

Each time he was near them he bristled and his scales felt dirty with more than just the filth he used to cover his brilliant scales with. The scent of the elves was different from those in the mines, but just similar enough that it roused up the hatred he had always felt for them. His wings ached with memories of his humiliations while he strained his ears and tried to listen to the rumble of their voices. It wasn't a group of older warriors, but lean ones, young ones, ones that looked as if they had barely been able to fit into the too large armor. He had never seen young elves, and he was not impressed. They were all long legs and arms, awkward and not graceful in the least little bit. Their elders at least possessed some athletic grace, these ones were all awkward limbs as they growled and grumbled to one another. He twitched his nose a bit and fought the urge to sneeze out the scent of them.

"I think my shoulder bone is bruised." A tall one, taller than the rest, said and strained his arm upwards. "Did Haddal have to hit so hard?"

"You had to call him old, you're lucky that you didn't get your head smacked with that training spear." One laughed and gave him a push while they muttered to one another in sympathy of their own bruises and aches.

"I hear that the war is going to be moving again, our troops are pulling back since the navy has been making a move to ring the Spit. They've been working on conjuring." A light haired boy who was wearing armor that looked two sizes too big commented. "They're trying to make constructs."

"That won't work. They've tried it before. Remember when they tried to make dragons like ours? Those things were wastes of magic." Someone scoffed. "They can't control constructs or make them, the stones that are being mined aren't worth that."

"They have all the stones though. They have a hold of the mines and pump them out faster than we can ship them in." Alaine twitched at that remark, stones? Mine? They were talking about the mines that he had been forced to work in. He almost snarled his rage, but he stifled it down.

"They'd have to send back to Slokake if they wanted to have anything worth making constructs of and you can see how hard that is. The dragons are going to start taking down ships soon to try and take focus stones." One of the boys sprawled out, his form outlined in the darkness, by the fire. "Look at what we have, this emerald is barely worth it. I can barely cast a good illusion let alone any battle magics with it. If I want to be able to defeat anyone I'd have to have them right up on me."

"They give the best to the Riders. It's all about them." Another growled out. "Not that we need them, we're just in training. It's just going to be patrols, marches and tactics we're taught until the gods knows how long."

"When are we going to see any real action. I've never been so bored. Father believes it will mature me, so far it's turning me into a eunuch." One of the others snarled out. "I haven't had a woman in two years, I miss the concubines. Who said that we must be celibate if we wish to fight?"

"The Captain isn't, he has that little piece on the side. I heard that he takes Blackring all the way to Tomaia to see her." One drawled out as if imparting a great secret, but it drew Alaine's attention. Blackring? That didn't sound like an elven name. A dragon name?

"I nearly got into the Imperial Riders, you know." The tall one with the bruised shoulders sighed while Alaine tried to resist the urge to surge forward. He wanted them to talk, he needed them to talk. He had to know.

"You did not, and you know it." Another gave a sudden shove to the boy who yelped a bit and gave his head a shake.

"I did! Mother was here on the Spit and she had one all lined up for me, but Nothia was born first, damn her." The boy threw something on the fire that crackled and it began to burn brighter. "Imagine, a girl as an Imperial Rider! It doesn't bear thinking about. Opal should have been mine, and Opal?! What sort of name for a dragon is that? I would have named him far better than that."

_Opal? Another dragon name. But why did the girl get the dragon? Why? Damnit, why won't they tell me. _ Alaine flexed his claws against the ground and strained forward, trying not to rise up to beat it out of them.

"Nothia is a fine warrior from what I hear." Another one spoke up. "She's got the best times on Opal for her group, but I think she's going to be on messenger duty. They've got the other girls on messenger duty so far, not risking them in the real war."

"I wish I were a Rider. They've got it easy." The shortest of them sighed out. "You don't see them out here fighting day and night, they're up at the fort, being fed well, good company, women when they want them. I didn't even get a chance to be one."

"That's because you're one of the underlings sons. They never pull the underlings to be Riders or even potential Riders." The tall one leaned forward with a bit of a groan. "I should have been born first, then I would have been chosen. That beast would have been at my beck and command, and I would be able to really live life. You know, they don't have to be celibate, they can fuck who they want."

"I know, how unfair is that? We don't get a damn whore for the camp, and they are up there fucking whatever can move." One of the group snapped out in irritation.

Alaine was so intent on trying to figure out what was going on that he wasn't paying attention, at least not to his surroundings. He wanted them to talk more about what they were doing with the dragons to make them tame, but he had only heard small snatches and pieces. He didn't even hear the sound of an approaching man through the brush nearby. One moment the group was talking amiably and the next a tall man stepped into their fire ring. An adult elf with all the grace of his kind, his high cheeked features had shadows as he glared at all of them in turn. Beyond him, Alaine heard the familiar sound of scale rasping on scale, and the drake froze. Somewhere past the fire a dragon was stirring. A dragon with senses as keen as Alaine's.

_Don't move, don't make a sound, you're downwind, he won't be able to scent you. _ He flexed his claws as he kept his eyes on the fire ring.

"You have no need to continue your lines." The Imperial Rider snapped out in irritation. "You are second and fourth sons, men who will not rule their houses and only bring up offshoots of your clan that will never know true glory. If you are lucky, you will earn a name in this war and go home with enough money to settle on your own. If you are not, you will be cast away with a pension from your noble older brothers and retire as an overseer. The Riders must continue their lines, they must have as many children as possible."

"I would have been a Rider!" The tall one stood up, looking outraged as he glared at the man. "If I had-"

"You were not. It does not matter what would have been. It is imperative that the dragons we raise imprint, we cannot allow those moments to pass because we are waiting for a woman to spread her legs." The man snapped the words out. "You have seen the pens, have you not? There are only a handful of dragons at any one time, and they are the ones who make the choice of what women they are drawn to."

"I think it's a filthy thing, bestial to allow dragons to-" The words were stopped with a rough slap that cracked right against the youngsters cheek. The boy went sprawling to the ground.

"They are the reason we triumph, boy!" The Rider roared the words out, a roar echoed by a hiss beyond the darkness. "Blackring chose my mother when she was just barely showing, she could ask for no better guardian. I feel no shame that I was born within his pen, nor that I was presented to him while I was still wet with birthing fluids. It is your shame that you do not understand the importance of that bond. I will have many sons and daughters and each one will be presented to Blackring. He will never go wild, he will never leave my family, and he will never leave the cause. That you do not understand the reason we Imprint them, is to the shame of your family and your role as a soldier. It is obvious why the dragon did not wait for your mother to spread her damn thighs."

The boy mumbled an apology from the ground, but Alaine wasn't listening to it. He wasn't listening to anything except for what had just been said about the dragons. Imprinted? Dragons were being imprinted? His mind flashed, instantly, to little Oake. The small bleating fawn that had clambered all over him and clung to his scales, he had cared for Oake, it was true caring. The small bundle of damp fur that he had been presented with just after his birth. Imprinted? He cared for the little fellow and his mother, it was simple as that. He wasn't imprinted on anyone or anything. Rowan was a strong satyr, she was sly and smart tongued, he respected that. That was all. There was no reason not to care for them, they had opened up a home to him.

Alaine let out a muted sound, low in his throat, a noise he couldn't stop as what he heard rolled over in his mind. They were imprinting dragons on new born children, giving them over to youngsters just out of the womb to guard. Every emotion that he had felt for Oake flooded him; his joy at the youngsters agile hooves, his protective desire to keep him safe, his pride, his affection. Was it something that was real, or some strange spell that had been placed on him? Something natural or unnatural? Too many emotions roiled through him, too many thoughts, his mind wouldn't stop the cascade of events that tumbled through him.

A paw slammed down hard against the back of his neck, so hard that he shrieked out in shock while another paw pushed down hard against his shoulders. The powerful form loomed over him with a hot rush of breath that hit against him, sharp and thick with the scent of dragon while he writhed and let out a cursing snarl of rage.

"Coron!" The dragon bellowed out while the weight slammed down harder against his shoulders and forebody. Alaine twisted his head around and snapped frantically at the paws, his teeth twisted back with his rage. "Stay down! I don't want to hurt you!"

"LET ME GO!" Alaine flung his tail up hard, smacking roughly right against the curve of the shoulder and cracked just behind the neck of the drake that pinned him down.

"What do you have there?" The sound of footsteps came while another powerful hind paw pushed down against his hips and shoved hard. The other drake nearly mounted him to keep him down. "Good Gods, Blackring, what is that?!"

"Stay down! A dragon. He's covered in filth!" Blackwing sounded fretful while the claws scraped against his scales roughly.

"Easy there, easy..." The Rider came towards him while Alaine tried to twist away, pulling backwards, his hind paws dug hard against the ground while he snapped his jaws at the elf. "Where is you Rider? Who is your Rider?"

Alaine didn't answer the damned elf, he lunged forward with his jaws parted to snag the creature, but he didn't get far. Blackring's paw moved from his shoulder and slammed down against his muzzle so that it was pinned against the dirt. He writhed and twisted under the hold, but the weight was pushed down hard enough that he wheezed out, barely able to draw down in a breath.

"It's not one of the youngsters in training, he's big!" The drake sounded surprised. "He's very dirty." The addition was almost a whine. Alaine heard it dimly, but his real concern was over the paw that forced his nostrils closed so that he couldn't get a good breath. He bucked and threw his weight upwards, trying to dislodge his attacker, but his position was all wrong, he couldn't get his paws under him with the weight holding down.

"Huh." Coron crouched down just out of reach of Alaine's muzzle and looked at him dispassionately. "Well I'll be damned, it must be a wild one. I thought they were long gone. Lift your paw a little, you're choking the beast."

Blackring growled low in his throat, the weight didn't lift up. " He was trying for you! I will kill him for that." The weight grew and Alaine's eyes flashed open wide, bulging as he tried to suck in even a single breath.

"Blackring! Release him!" Alaine heard the elf yelling out angrily, but the weight only grew while the drake above him snarled a warning. The world was going grey and dark, he lunged forward and tried to escape, but jaws clamped down roughly on the back of his neck. "I SAID RELEASE HIM!!!"

The words followed him down into the darkness, plunging away as he tried to draw to suck down a breath that never came.