Taking care of hatchlings was not easy. Especially when there were seven of them. They had grown quickly, and were almost the size of their parents' heads after one month. They had voracious appetites, so any time Hanorh spent not guarding the cave or collapsed from exhaustion, he spent hunting. Aurha's instinct told her not to leave her offspring alone, not even with their father, so her days were spent watching over the hatchlings and yearning for wind beneath her wings.



A hierarchy was soon established among the hatchlings. First were Handreth and his silver-copper sister, Seshkra, who claimed the hearts of kills and the most comfortable sleeping places on their mother. Then the dark silver drakka Iissell who kept the others at bay and settled fights between her siblings. It was often Drethse, a silver, who started them. His grey brother Khrath usually provoked him. The other two, Rhehala the white-silver and Threha the copper, were quieter, at the bottom of the food chain; they only got the gut and stringy legs of herbivores once the others were finished with the carcass, but Aurha made sure they had enough to eat by teaching them to crack marrow bones open with their powerful young jaws.



Of all of them, Seshkra was the most inquisitive. She could often be heard squeaking for help, having got caught in some nook or cranny she was too small to fit into. Or she would try and wander outside the cave to peek at the world beyond, but Mother's tail always managed to slap down just in time. The sun had risen in the sky, and one day, she decided to sneak out again, this time using the light to make the shadows blinder. She was smart as well as curious. It worked, she got past the reach of Mother's tail.



A huge, dozing bulk suddenly rose in front of her, and she recognised her sire's smell. He would be a great vantage point to see the world from, and he wasn't nearly as uptight as Mother about letting her see the world.



Hanorh felt something scrabbling up his flanks, and turned his head slightly to see one of his children trying to climb his haunch, and then navigate over his wings to his neck then head. He felt a weight settle on one of his horns as the hatchlings curled around it, her tail dangling in his eye.



'I might have known it would be you, Seshkra,' he purred. 'How did you escape your mother?'



'Hello Father,' Seshkra replied. 'I came to see the world.'



'Then look out on it, daughter,' Hanorh laughed, stretching out his head to give Seshkra a better view. She hissed in amazement. 'This is only a small fragment of it,' Hanorh told her, 'The rest lies over many horizons.'



'The world must be huge.'



'Only for one so small. To a dragon, the world is nothing. It is like the cave is to you now, but soon, it will seem small.'



'Oh.' Seshkra rested her head against her father's crest. He could almost hear her brain ticking. She was cleverer than the rest of them, and it wouldn't take her long to think of something else to ask.



'Father?'



'Mmm?'



'Why must you stay out here and not come inside?'



'I must guard the cave,' he replied gravely.



'Why?' chirped Seshkra from his crest.



'Because there might be danger.' Shresa snorted at the idea that anything could be dangerous to a dragon, and Hanorh told her that pride and overconfidence could kill her.



'But Father,' Seshkra reasoned, climbing down onto Hanorh's snout, 'there is nothing more fierce or strong or cunning as a dragon. How can we fear anything? What about bears?'



Hanorh chuckled. 'Not bears, my star, they fear us. Although they might make a meal of a hatchling.'



'Not me, I'd flame at it,' Seshkra growled in her high hatchling voice, baring fangs to her imaginary enemy. Sparks shot from her nostrils, but no real flame.



'I bet you would, my star. But what you must fear is man.'



'What's man?'



'A creature that stands on two legs and thinks with the cunning of a dragon. One alone is easy to overcome, but they hunt in packs like wolves, and erode at the world like an irreversible ocean eating a coastline.'



'Mother said they had no fangs or claws, and that they aren't swift like hawks or horses. How do they hunt?' Seshkra asked, always inquisitive.



'They make tools with their clawless digits – arrows that fly at us through the sky and great axes and swords to pierce our hides, and tame horses to ride,' Hanorh answered gravely.



'Ride?'



'A man can make a horse take him on his back. The horses lose their freedom and have to do as the man says.' Seshkra snorted again and vowed never to let a man ride on her back. 'And nor should you, my star,' Hanorh told her. 'One thing a dragon must have is freedom, for if a dragon cannot fly like the wind itself, and do what he wishes, then he is not a dragon. Remember that.'



'I will, Father,' the little copper-silver promised solemnly, pausing in her attempts to snap up a fly.



'Good drakka. And remember that only men can kill a healthy dragon.'



'Yes father.' The fly didn't last much longer.



Sounds of combat echoed from within the cave. Hanorh's massive head turned, Seshkra still atop it, and he sighed. His daughter peeped in excitement, her hatchling growl rising to be used against whichever sibling was challenging the peace. Even she was surprised though when she leaped straight of her father's muzzle and fluttered safely to the floor. Hatchlings had neither the muscle strength nor the size of wing needed for flight. She was growing strong, Hanorh noted with pride. The young drakka didn't seem to care though as she rushed off into the glittering gloom of the cave, piping out a war cry to her nestmates. Yes, the silver thought to himself, that one was definitely like her mother.