(Editing this post to @ you because I forgot to somehow @jasper-barks)
Petrel had spent the last few days moving along the coast of the Sky Kingdom, hiding out in the forest to sleep and looking for prey in the tide pools. He was unable to go too far into the woods, as he would leave a trail of frozen, dead plants, making it too easy to track.
The small pools of water granted the dragon access to aquatic food sources without having to risk swimming again. Although, it was never enough food for him to be full. Still, finding that octopus sheltering under a rock in the pool was something. Chewy and weird-tasting, but he was too malnourished to be picky.
The IceWing spent most of his time thinking as he combed the shore. How had someone managed to get him out of the ice, let alone bring him back to the land? He often found himself looking again at the feather he carried with him. Though the heat emanated from it had faded like that of an ember, it still did not seem to freeze solid at his touch. It could only belong to a SkyWing, and it had to be a red one. Petrel looked up at the sky, as though he expected to spot his rescuer. Of course, he didn’t. Whoever it had been was probably long gone, and had no doubt seen a scroll with Petrel’s face on it and was regretting the decision to save him. After all, the reward wasn’t exactly small. Petrel’s father had been a general in the IceWing army.
Regardless, the bright white dragon often drifted in the clouds above the Sky Kingdom, watching the mountain-dwelling dragons from afar. There were plenty of red ones. Any one of them could be who he was looking for. He didn’t know why he kept going back. He had stayed here too long already, as was taking a risk every time it flew over the mountains. If a patrol saw him… it was best not to think about what would happen. They would attack him, and they would die. A sick, awful thought rose in his mind. At least I’d have food. He gagged at the mere thought of it. What the fuck was he thinking?
Disgusted with himself, he flew back down to the forest’s edge and looked for a place to call home for the night. A thicket of sharp thorns would do just fine, and he crawled under the pointed pieces, trying to make himself as small as possible. No need to damage the plants any more than he had to. Looking out at the sunset, Petrel curled up and rested his head.
The young dragon was awakened at sunrise by a strange smell. Something burning. Where there’s fire, there’s SkyWings. His eyes snapped open, but he remained motionless, listening and smelling the air. There was the smell of another dragon, but nothing moved around him. The insects in the woods seemed calm, not frightened into silence. And the burning smell… his mouth watered as he followed it to the edge of the woods. Right where he had entered last night, he realized.
The source of the scent of cooked meat was a deer, killed by a swift grab that had apparently resulted in scorch marks to her neck and flank. The animal’s flesh was cooked around the areas where its killer had touched it. The smell was delicious. Unable to think past what was in front of him, Petrel dug into the meal. The taste of meat that had been cooked was new to him. Petrel had only ever eaten his meals raw, and usually frozen solid. This was easier on his jaw, he noticed.
After eating the entire carcass, having nothing but bones left, he stopped to think. Those burn marks had looked like talonprints. That could only be possible if there was a dragon whose body gave off a lot of heat. A dragon like the one who had saved him. Petrel gazed again at the feather, its bright red pigment contrasting starkly with his pale blue scales.
In that moment, he made a decision, and picked up the shoulder blade of the deer, turning it over in his talons. Using his rigid claws, Petrel carved the bone into a little ring shape - an incomplete circle with a sharp point. Taking a scrap of hide, he tied one end to the shaft of the feather. Holding the pointed end of the bone ring to his right ear, he took a deep breath, wincing as he pushed it all the way through. A few minutes later, he caught his breath again and continued, tying the other end of the string of deerskin to the bone, making sure to wrap it around the gap in the ring so that it would not fall out. Petrel gave it a light tug, testing it. The earring did not move.
Satisfied, he walked over to the shore and found a small tide pool. The water was still, allowing Petrel to see his reflection. It looked good, bright red against light blue. He smiled. This was, he supposed, the only thing he could do to thank the SkyWing who was apparently still watching him. Looking up towards the clouds, he gave a slight tilt of his head, hoping that the dragon who had saved his life would see what he had done.
