“I was a little snake when my masters built walls and citadels to protect the hatching lands. Thank you for helping the old one see another heartbeat at the end of her days.”
“I don’t believe it happened,” Emmy pressed the bundle to her chest. The child in the tissues moved. It... she reached for the warmth, as if she felt the proximity of the scales of the dragon's body. Only the tail, which was already covered with keratinized scales, showed up. It won’t be long before they stretch out and get stronger, turning into spines or a fin.
Emlyonormu was relieved when she felt the beating of life in her hands. This burden was replaced by a new one, filled with anxiety about responsibility. And the awkwardness of some moments.
. . .
“There are children by nature, Emlyonormu from the Bronze Dragonflight. And there are children from the heart. You have the right to give this one her first name.”
The brood mother raised her cane in a trembling hand, as if blessing both Emmy and this child. The dragoness looked again at the fabrics under which the tiny creature was hiding. Heat was brewing within her. With every second, with every breath, the newborn absorbed the life of Azeroth.
Emlyonormu raised her palm and gently touched the bundle of fabrics with her clawed fingers. She made her decision.
“Eliot, she…”
“Yes, this happens.”
Tiny paws and a head appeared in the light. Hands and head. In the form of a mortal.
“I heard that sometimes they take on the guises of those who have been closest to them for a long time,” Eliot began to wail, stroking Emmy-Lee’s shoulder, but then looked at her with a stern look, “This is an unconscious step. But not evil.”
“But in the egg…”
“She was an ordinary dragon. Who knows how such a small portion of water from the Halls could have affected her. Really, Emmy, the child has just appeared, and you are already so strict with her!”
Emlyonormu pursed her lips, looking at the girl in her arms. Everything about her was mortal, but the scales and compaction of future horns covered everything human and elven, leaving no doubt. The child shrank and wrinkled her tiny nose. She was Green, and she was already having her first real dream.
“Well, what name will you give her?” the mother of the brood had been waiting for this day for so many years that she did not want to delay the most important thing.
“Fir,” Emlyonormu answered easily. She was almost sure that it was the girl herself who suggested this name to her, “For now she will be a little Fir.”
