Frostcloud

A content mind isn’t hard to find and keep these days. It has been sixty-five years since the dragonets of the prophecy ended the War of SandWing Succession, and their efforts paid off for everyone. The tribes are completely at peace now, and even though the NightWings have all bred their powers back into themselves, a mind-shield teacher is not hard to come by, and only those who are close to one or another Nightwing allow their minds to be reached.
Jade Mountain Academy, run by the dragonets of destiny, who are now older, larger, caring dragons, has many other similar schools across Pyrrhia, all sister schools for all the dragonets of all tribes. Only a lucky few get into the smallest school, which is Jade Mountain. Only the most creative, smart, and caring dragonets have a shot at going there. With lots of criteria to fit into, it’s no surprise that the school for thirty-five dragonets has no more than thirty-five each year. Now it is a three-year school, separated by age group. If a dragonet came in in between the maximum ages, they would simply go into one of the senior winglets. There are three groups of winglets categorized by age, all named after precious stones.
Enough about Jade Mountain. Time to talk about my mountain. I live in the territory between the Kingdom of Sand and the Kingdom of Ice. Queen Thorn, who has successfully had one of the longest reins of all SandWing history, and Queen Arctic, who took the throne from Queen Glacier and allowed much less to depend on the IceWing social rankings, have agreed to name this place no dragon’s, and now there are several villages of IceWings and SandWings who preferred a quieter life. I guess you call me one of them. I was born there.
I went to Jade Mountain Academy when I was a dragonet. All three years of winglets and learning. My best friends went there, too, as well as in the other academies closer to here, Iceberg Hill Academy and Dune Academy. There are dragons from all the tribes there as well. One of my best friends is a SeaWing, Aqua, who visits me often. I’m an IceWing, if you hadn’t guessed, and my name is Frostcloud. I live on a mountain we call Blizzard Peak.
I was out flying today, a few hours from sunset, when I looked around and realized the beauty of the sight around me. The sky was purple with a pink stripe not too high above the peaks. It snowed last night, and now the peaks are almost completely white, mixed in with flashes of blue stone. A grey, smooth cloud drifts above it, a miniature version a tenth the size of it following. To the west, as the sun begins to set, the rest of the clouds are gathered, spaced out so you can see the purple in between the dark masses. The undersides of almost all of them are a bright, warm pink, with gold closer to the sun. The colors there are the few others around here other than the blues and whites of snow and ice.
I hover facing north, to see both sides. Below me I notice a dark shape on the ground, facing upward. A NightWing, the one in my winglet for three years at Jade Mountain: Nightgazer, a mindreader. I put up my mental wall and continue to hover, pretending not to notice him. He calls to me. I ignore him. He finally flies up toward me. I turn my head toward him when he is at my eye level, and then gesture for silence and then to the sky. He notices the mountains first, and then the sunset. I allow our wingtips to brush as we hover, and he looks at me with the same feeling in his face I have inside, behind my mask. But finally, I drop my walls, and Nightgazer seems surprised that I did that, and even more so when he realized that I feel for him the same way he feels for me.
He reaches to brush my wing again, and then I dive toward the peak, Nightgazer on my tail, and together we fly to the highest rock spire on the mountain, facing the sunset. I land first, my dear friend beside me. I sit, still quiet, and allow him to carefully wrap his wing around me as we share the sight, our breath coming in warm clouds.
“I’m glad I found you up here,” Nightgazer says, and his face says a whole lot more.






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