The weather grew steadily worse and whiter during the weeks following the first snow storm. Clouds would descend, thick and grey, to wrap the world in confusion, else the sun would sparkle so brightly that the dragons had great difficulty spotting the little prey that was not hibernating or had not roamed south with the sun. They could no longer land, fearing the discovery of their tracks in the deep snow; humans were roaming farther afield now as well.



Hanorh was worrying about his mate. They had to fly far each time they hunted, prey was so sparse, and it seemed to be telling on the copper female. She was growing thinner and more drawn by the day, so much so that her ribs were just discernable beneath her scaly hide. No longer did she perform aerial acrobatics with ease or freedom of spirit, she didn't roll or dive at all.



Often the drake would ask what was wrong, but Aurha would just snap at him, or tell him to leave her alone. Then she would seem to come to, and apologise and nuzzle close to him with such anguish in his eyes that she would be instantly forgiven. But that was happening less and less.



Once, Aurha had left her mate and flown for days, returning more tired and haggard looking than ever. She trembled as she landed.



'Aurha,' Hanorh sighed in relief. He was always cautious around her now, but she came to him and touched his muzzle gratefully.



'Hanorh,' she whispered, drinking in his scent. She didn't want to fight with him, every fibre in her body hated it when she turned to her mate and showed her teeth. But his scent, usually comforting, had grown distant, like he was some stranger. Deep down she knew what was happening, but she could tell nobody, not even her beautiful mate, for it was Nature's deepest secret. The most basic of instincts took over, the one that decreed solitude was safety, and not even Aurha's higher brain functions could override her primary nature. Hanorh was another dragon, and was therefore dangerous, no matter how much Aurha screamed at herself that he would never, could never, harm her.



'I have been so worried, my love. Where were you?' The blissful spell was broken. Hanorh was once more the stranger.



'Flying,' the drakka replied coldly, stepping past him and into the cave. He sighed in confusion and frustration. What had he done this time? He knew better than to ask out loud.



The copper was sitting inside, her features drawn.



'I am sorry, my love,' she said as he drew near. 'I do not know why this is happening. It goes against me.' She gazed up into his eyes, and he saw behind the riot of emotions the dark bestiality that she was battling to subdue. It was this fight that was exhausting her so. 'Come, sing to me. It will calm me.'



Hanorh lay down gently beside his mate, still confused, but willing. He stretched his wing over her back as she settled into him, and he wove her a song of high mountains and crisp nights and the freedom that only belonged to flying things. Soon she was settled and asleep, breathing soundly, without the cares of the waking world. The silver nuzzled her gently, feeling comfortable with her heat on his side, and laid his head next to hers. In the morning, he resolved to go out and find a fat cow or horse and bring it back for her.



When he returned, a large bullock clasped in his talons, Aurha was busy. Instinct was at work again, instructing her in what to do. She was stripping trees of their top branches, and then raking her claws over the bark so it tore away in strips. All of these she dragged back to the cave, barely able to lift the heavy logs but working with such fervour that Hanorh was astonished. He landed on the lip of the cliff. Before he could even open his mouth, Aurha warned him not to try and help.



'At least stop for a moment, and eat,' he insisted. She looked at him gratefully and plunged her long neck into the carcass of the carthorse, snatching greedily at lumps of bone and muscle.



'Thank you, my love. Now, leave me to this task, it draws near,' she said tenderly. Hanorh knew to curb his curiosity and flew away to find something else to eat.



A few days later, when he returned with a fresh goat, he found Aurha lying on the pile of cinders she had made with the logs, breathing heavily. Her face was contorted with pain.



'Aurha!' her mate cried in distress, dropping his kill and rushing to her side.



'Hanorh?' she asked weakly.



'Yes, my love. I am here. What is wrong?'



'I hoped you would come in time.' She lapsed back into the spasms of pain with a small groan.



'In time for what? Aurha, are you dying?' Hanorh hated seeing his mate like this, and knowing he could do nothing. If she was –



'No, love, I am not dying. Not yet. But you need to leave. Now.' She turned to him, and there was that basic instinct again, beneath the agony twisting her gut.



'Aurha, I cannot leave you like this!' he cried, putting his snout next to hers. She snapped it away.



'You will, fool, for I shall not permit you to stay! You cannot see this Hanorh. It is Nature's oldest law.'



'I will not go!'



Aurha suddenly roared. It echoed her rage a hundredfold and bounced back off the cave walls until it sang in the dragons' ears. The silver was shocked, and unbidden, the memory of the day she had ripped Skyar's wing flashed back to him. Now she trembled and tottered on her feet, but she stood like a lioness defending her cubs.



'You. Shall. Leave.'



But Hanorh stood his ground and stared her down. He would not leave her to face whatever this was alone.



'Please,' she begged. He shook his head.



She exploded, darting forward with a primitive speed too fast to react to, and slashed her talons down Hanorh's foreleg, roaring like an inferno. She drove him back, back, out of the cave and to the lip with the ferocity of her attack. When she came to the cave mouth she halted, snarling furiously. The silver took the only option he could live with: he opened his wings and flew into the evening sky.



Aurha returned to the pile of ashes, exhausted. The confrontation had sapped her strength and horrified her. She cursed the duality inside her as it caused her another twinge of red hot agony. One thing consoled her. It would be finished with soon.



The day was overcast with the threat of a blizzard. In the northern mountains, avalanches crashed down the slopes as a young male dragon vent his fury upon the rocks. He bellowed and swiped at the rocks hating himself for leaving the thing most dear to him, his mate for making him choose this isolation, and the whole world for being so full of misery.



As the first flakes fell, the wind keened with Hanorh and called his name with despair. The dragon listened harder to the moaning wind. There was something faint in it. A scent, a voice curling in on itself and being lost and found again. He knew that voice. She was calling him back. He would answer her call wherever and whenever it came. But why? Aurha had snapped at him, struck him and drawn blood, and all without explanation. If she really wanted him to return, she could roam the skies to find him. Still, the mourning in that voice was unmistakable.



Aurha looked at the skies with a desperate hope in her eyes. It had been all her fault! She should have told her mate her secret, but it was impossible, he had been a stranger of her own imagining. That secret had been hers to protect, but now she needed Hanorh more than ever to ease the guilt spreading like a virus inside her. Was he lying somewhere, bleeding, because of what she'd done to him? The bcopper longed to search the world for him, but a stronger instinct kept her at the mouth of the cave, like a dog on a leash. She put her muzzle to the stars once more and howled Hanorh's name, willing the winds to carry her voice to him, no matter where he was.



'What have I done?' she asked herself, turning back to the yawning mouth of the cave.



There were birds singing. The sun was watery bright on the cliff lip, scattered like ripples by something beating the air. The wingstrokes woke the sleeping drakka instantly, and she tested the air for danger. She knew that scent well; there was nothing to fear.



Hanorh was prepared for a fight this time. Part of him thought he had imagined the voice on the wind, but the other, stronger part needed to know if Aurha was all right.



She rushed out to him, but not in aggression, in relief and joy to see her mate again. They met as though they had not quarrelled, and had merely been separated for a century. Aurha smelled his scent and was comforted by its warmth and strength again, and the silver ran his head along his mate's neck and flanks to make sure she was fine. Her eyes were bright and clear again, and full of the playfulness he loved so much.



'Hanorh! Can you ever forgive me? I need you to forgive me, my love,' Aurha breathed, rubbing her head along his scales.



'Will you tell me the reason behind it?' the drake asked.



'No,' she replied playfully. 'You can see for yourself.'



Hanorh followed her inside, his curiosity was rising. It was barely two days and nights since Aurha had sliced his flesh, and yet here she was, like she always had been, as if a great burden was lifted from her wings.



'Forgive me, my love,' she murmured. 'I would have flown to find you, but I daren't leave the cave, not now.'



'Aurha, what are you -?' But the silver's voice died before it reached his lips. He was frozen. His mate laughed at him as she curled protectively around the little mound made in the ashes. Hanorh's neck arched proudly at the copper- lying there, wrapped around white spheres nestled in the charred branches. These had been the cause of Aurha's discomfort. Slowly, gently, he leaned in to count their eggs, feeling strange, like he never had before. He wanted to fly to the moon, over it, even, and drag down the stars as playthings for his children. Seven. Seven perfect eggs. He hesitantly touched each in turn, wondering at how fragile they were.



Aurha was watching him warily, the remnant of that protective spirit lingering over her brood. He knew the terrible revenge she would take if any one of them was even slightly damaged, and he knew he would do the same. They rubbed noses and purred with each other, supremely happy.



'Sing a lullaby for our children, Hanorh,' Aurha whispered, laying her head on the ashes next to the mound.



'They are only eggs, Aurha,' her mate replied steadily.



'And do you not remember your egg, my love? It is the world of dreams. They are not conscious, but know that they can hear you, even if not with their ears. Anyway, I want you to sing for me, my lord,' she said archly, staring blandly at him.



'Very well, my lady,' he replied, settling down beside her. But he didn't know what to sing. He was too happy for a tragic epic, but it seemed too serious for a ditty. Finally he settled for a human ballad Aurha had taught him, and tried to translate it into his mothertongue. When he was finished, Aurha was sleeping peacefully, as beautifully as the dawn, and he looked upon his little family with a fierce pride blossoming in his chest.



'In the morning, I will hunt for you,' he promised his slumbering mate.