Here Be Dragons: Book 1 of the Emergence Series

Fathom excitedly paced along the edge of the deck as the Horizon drifted along the river, the strong currents steadily carrying the ship out towards the ocean. "Is this the fastest the ship can go?" he asked, gauging the wind speed with a raised wing.

"No, right now I'm just letting the river move the ship," Pryce replied. "Don't distract me until we're out on the ocean; I need to make sure the ship doesn't hit the sides of the river."

"But why?" Fathom asked, cocking his head in confusion. "Steel is stronger than rock. Can the ship be damaged by rocks?"

"Yes, the ship is strong, but rocks can definitely damage it, so I'll need to focus until we get to the ocean."

Fathom seemed a little perturbed by this information, and he nodded warily before returning to the side of the ship.

Fortunately, going down the river was much easier than the reverse, and soon the ship sailed out of the estuary onto the open ocean. Now Pryce could finally ramp up the engines, gradually accelerating the ship to the comfortable pace of thirty-five kilometers per hour that had brought it across the ocean.

"Is this the fastest the ship can go?" Fathom asked again as Pryce stepped out of the wheelhouse.

"No, it can still go faster, but this speed will use the least fuel," he replied, looking at the ship's chronometer. "We're just going east now, so you can ask me whatever questions you want."

Fathom cocked his head in thought and glanced down at the ship. "How does the ship work?"

Pryce set the anchor several hours later, securing the ship in place before beginning the journey northward upon Fathom's back. Together they traveled parallel alongside the shores of Loahm, ensuring that they remained too far to be easily seen by any other dragons – the backpacks that Fathom carried would have been difficult to explain, never mind the human on his neck.

Every once in a while Fathom would point out a new species for Pryce to observe, though these were mostly flying creatures that stayed too far away for Pryce to see, even with the binoculars.

Ultimately there wasn't much for Pryce to do except to take in his surroundings, which – being open ocean – remained much the same over the course of the next seven hours. Eventually Fathom banked towards Loahm, stirring Pryce from his half-slumber.

"Are we almost there?" Pryce asked, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

"Almost," Fathom said, casting a glance back at Pryce. "We are still far away from land, but we should be able to find them in less than two hours."

Pryce sighed, and settled himself in for another two hours of moderate discomfort.

Fathom followed a river as he flew inland, and both he and Pryce made sure to keep an eye out for any dragons who might see them.

"We are near our destination," Fathom said, his uncertainty tangible as it reverberated through Pryce's body. "I am going to announce myself." That was all the warning he gave before he took a deep breath and belted out a roar.

Fathom might have dictated a few words through the roar, but Pryce could neither discern nor understand them past the sheer force of the noise; the sound was deafening even with his hands clapped over his ears.

"You could have given me more warning," Pryce grumbled, ears ringing and a little annoyed.

"Why? Just hear less – oh," Fathom awkwardly turned his neck around to glance at Pryce's ears, his spines flicking with an embarrassed air. "Can humans not hear less if you want?"

"No, we can't," Pryce said drily, and shook his head in a vain attempt to get rid of the ringing. Apparently Fathom's flexible ear-membranes allowed him to deafen his own hearing, though Pryce had to wonder how that trait managed to evolve in the first place.

"That is inconvenient, but maybe humans do not need ears like ours," Fathom mused as he flicked his spines.

"Well, hearing gets harder for humans as we get older, so something like that might be useful."

Fathom glanced back towards Pryce and was clearly about to express his disbelief when a roar echoed through the sky. "Good, someone heard us," he said, and spiraled down to land upon a nearby clearing.

"Is that Anvonh?" Pryce asked, a little nervously.

"I don't know, we only said hello. Cover your ears again," Fathom warned, and this time he gave Pryce plenty of time to brace himself. This second roar was shorter and somewhat weaker in intensity, probably because he knew how far the other dragon was now.

Pryce cautiously uncovered his ears, and a few seconds later the other dragon returned the roar.

"I asked her to come here, and she said yes," Fathom rumbled.

"'She'? Is it Anvonh?"

"I don't know," Fathom said, shaking his head distractedly. "She sounds female, and I think she is confused because I have not introduced myself – the visitor is supposed to do that," he explained, without taking his eyes off the sky. "I want to talk to Anvonh properly on the ground, which is why I didn't tell her who I was, but she will think it is strange…"

"Are you sure we should have landed?" Pryce asked warily. "What if it's not Anvonh?"

"No one is going to attack us," Fathom chuffed dismissively. "This is the territory of Ghorrah-ǂ and Jooral-ǂ, and we want to meet them anyway." He paused, then perked his head up and flipped his spines forward to hear something that Pryce could not. "She's almost here."

Pryce strained his ears, and soon he was indeed able to hear the sound of approaching wingbeats flapping rapidly.

«Who are you?» a dragon demanded as she burst over the trees and gracefully touched down upon the ground. Her deep blue hide shimmered against the evening sun, and she froze as her eyes settled on Pryce. «Is…is that a CRAFTER?!»

Pryce winced as he covered his ringing ears.

«Where under the sun did you find a crafter? And h-» The unidentified dragon's jaws fell agape as she finally took a good look at Fathom. «...Father?»

«...Hello, Anvonh,» Fathom stiltedly replied, his uncertainty audible even to Pryce's inexperienced ears. «And yes, he's a crafter,» he added, recovering a little. «Though they actually call themselves 'humans'. This one's name is 'Pryce'; I met him fifty-nine days ago, and we've just started gathering allies who will support the humans.»

"Hello, Anvonh," Pryce said, leaning around Fathom's neck to wave a greeting, though Anvonh only stared in mute incomprehension.

«He says hello,» Fathom translated. «And he can understand a few very simple words, if you speak slowly enough.»

«...Oh,» Anvonh said, clearly still processing this unexpected series of events. Her eyes trailed down Fathom's side before abruptly widening with realization. «Wait, your wing…!»

«Ah, yes, Pryce fixed it for me,» Fathom said, extending his limb so that it could be seen more clearly.

Anvonh's gaze darted from the wing, to her father, then to Pryce, her red eyes wide with astonishment. «How…? What…?»

«I know how you feel,» Fathom chuckled. «Don't worry, I'll explain everything-»

"Don't forget about finding Ghorrah and Jooral first," Pryce interrupted to suggest. "Or we could stay here for now, if you want to talk to her a little longer," he added, noticing Fathom's hesitation.

"No, we should find them," Fathom acknowledged, and turned to his daughter. «Pryce reminded me that we should go find Ghorrah-ǂ and Jooral-ǂ first, so that we do not have to explain everything twice.»

«Oh, that's a good idea – Jooral-ǂ is going to be so excited to speak with a crafter!» Anvonh crooned, her spines quivering in excitement. «Come, follow me – they're only about two hands away.»

Fathom nodded, rolling his shoulders as he readied for flight. «Alright, lead the way!»

Fathom followed Anvonh as she took to the skies and guided them over the mountains. Pryce was initially perplexed by the mention of 'hands' as a unit of time, but Fathom explained that it was actually short for five beats, or about a minute. Indeed, their flight came to an end soon afterwards as they descended upon the base of a mountain; various tools and constructs were scattered all over the surrounding area, and at the center of it all sat two female dragons, who were presumably Ghorrah and Jooral.

Unlike Fathom or Anvonh these two individuals possessed a more somber coloration; their pale grey hide made them appear as though they were carved of stone, and their scales had a faint sheen of silver to them, giving the two of them a mature, dignified appearance.

«Is that a blistering crafter?» one of the two dragons exclaimed as she nearly ran right up to Pryce – and by extension Fathom.

The two of them leaned away at this unexpected reception, though it was soon clear that she meant them no harm. Pryce was somewhat distracted by the accessory that adorned her left horn, which upon closer inspection appeared to be a thick band of gold.

«Yes, this is a crafter. His name is Pryce,» Fathom said, a little stiffly. «My name is Hironh-ǂ, and you must be Jooral-ǂ.»

«You know his name! What else do you-» Jooral exclaimed, but was interrupted by a pointed nudge from the last dragon, who must have been Ghorrah.

«Easy, Jooral. You don't want to scare the crafter, do you?» Ghorrah rumbled, though her golden eyes were firmly fixed upon Pryce.

«Ah, of course, my wings, where are my manners?» Jorral said, and stepped backwards…though not by much. «Yes, my name is Jooral-ǂ, and this is Ghorrah-ǂ,» she said, introducing the two of them with her wing-thumb. «Tell me, how under the sun did you manage to find a crafter? And can you understand each other? I imagine you must, else how would you agree to have him sit on your back? But-»

These questions continued for some time, at a pace far too quick for Pryce to grasp. Seeing as he couldn't contribute to the conversation, Pryce took the opportunity to examine these two new dragons.

Now that she wasn't up in his face, Pryce could see how Jooral's left wing sagged against her side, just as Fathom had told him, but she didn't seem bothered by the old injury if her torrent of questions were any indicator. Ghorrah, on the other hand, seemed content to allow Jooral to do the talking. Instead she stared at him with intense scrutiny. Her piercing golden gaze was distinctly unsettling, completely unlike Jooral's warmer amber-yellow eyes.

He also noticed that all three female dragons seemed to be a bit larger than Fathom, though it was hard to be certain between him and Anvonh. By Pryce's eye, both Ghorrah and Anvonh seemed more thickly built than Fathom, though Jooral was stockier than either one of them – her forearms and upper body were much more developed, though the muscles of her wings were visibly atrophied from disuse.

(Art by Rackiera)

The voices of all three females were a little deeper and richer than Fathom's own sonorous voice, which made sense given their larger size. Of course, their horns were curved instead of straight, though Anvonh's horns were far shorter and less spiraled, likely due to her younger age.

"Pryce, they're asking to see the picture of the ship," Fathom said, interrupting his train of thought.

Pryce was faintly aware that he had been giving the others a general summary of events, but he'd unconsciously tuned them out as their conversation left him in the dust.

"Okay, just let me off first," Pryce said, and unbuckled himself before sliding down to the ground.

"Are you hurt?" Fathom asked in concern as Pryce buckled to his knees.

"No, no, my legs are just numb," Pryce said, waving him off. He didn't want to complain at the time, but flying for hours had left him severely saddle sore. "It's just not comfortable to sit like that for so long."

Fathom flattened his spines at this, but he made no further comment as Pryce dug through his backpack for the pictures.

«His voice is so strange,» Ghorrah said, her eyes narrowing. «Can you really understand what he's saying?»

"She's insulting me, isn't she?" Pryce asked drily.

"A little bit, yes," Fathom admitted. «Yes, I can understand him. It didn't take long for me to be able to understand crafter speech, but it took about a full moon for me to be able to speak it properly.»

"Here," Pryce said, raising a photograph that depicted himself and Fathom standing in front of the Horizon. He didn't quite expect all three females to crane their heads towards him, and he nearly balked at their sudden approach.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

(Art by Rackiera)

«Is that…you?» Anvonh asked, squinting in disbelief.

«Like I said, humans can make replicas of sights, using a tool called a 'camera',» Fathom smugly replied. «A replica like this is called 'picture', and that thing behind us is the floating vessel that brought Pryce here, which he calls a 'ship'.»

«Where is this ship now? Is it here?» Jooral excitedly inquired with a glance at the ocean, clearly hoping to see the vessel herself.

«No, the ship uses a special kind of fuel to move, and Pryce wants to save as much of it as possible,» Fathom explained. «Which is why we hid it beyond the horizon before flying here.»

«I see,» Jooral rumbled in awe. «I can't believe it's even bigger than the vessel we found, and it's made entirely of metal…but why is it black? Are they unable to make vast amounts of shining iron* like the metal rope that you have there?» she asked, peering curiously at the polished steel chain around Fathom's neck.

*TL Note: The Draconic word for steel is literally 'shiny iron'. Dragons cannot make steel, and the alloy has an almost mythical connotation to it.

"The ship is made of steel, yes," Pryce replied, once this had been translated for him. "It's just black because it's covered in paint. Wait – how do you know what steel looks like?" he asked, using Fathom as an intermediary.

Proper steel was made from pure iron that had absorbed a small amount of carbon, but it was incredibly difficult to make. Mass produced steel was only available at the start of the second industrial revolution, and Pryce was curious to learn just how advanced Jooral's metallurgy was.

«The human vessel had some shiny iron in it, and I know it was iron because that's what it turned into when I melted it down,» Jooral sighed, a pained look in her eyes. «I've tried for so long, but I just can't make anything like the human-made stuff. Tell me, do you know how to keep shiny iron from turning into regular black iron?» she asked, peering hopefully at Pryce.

"Sure," Pryce shrugged. "It would be complicated to explain why this works, but if you bubble air through molten iron then it'll turn into pure iron, which is also shiny. Once you have pure iron, you just need to add a bit of charcoal dust, and then you'll have steel. How much charcoal you use will change what quality of steel you get, and if you add too much it'll turn back into black iron again."

Jooral blinked. «That's it??» she incredulously demanded. «Well I know what I'm doing tonight…» she rumbled distractedly before whipping her head back towards Pryce. «What else can you tell me? When should I add the charcoal? And how much of it?»

Anvonh coughed. «Didn't you once say that 'it's important to learn things yourself'?» she innocently asked.

«This is different and you know it!» Jooral indignantly exclaimed before turning her attention back to the photograph. «...Wait, why are some colors missing? You look very strange without your patterns.»

Fathom paused, realizing that he had forgotten to ask Pryce about this oddity. "Pryce, do photographs use all the colors that humans can see?"

"Yes, why?" Pryce asked, confused by this line of questioning.

"Ah...I forgot to tell you about our patterns," Fathom said, looking slightly abashed.

Pryce blinked. "What patterns?"

"I didn't have the words to ask about it before, and then I realized that there's no reason for photographs to capture ultraviolet and infrared light because humans can't see them, and then other things started happening and I…forgot about it," Fathom finished lamely.

"Well, what do they look like?" Pryce asked, gesturing impatiently.

"I don't know; they look like…patterns," Fathom grumbled. "They're the same color as burning hydrogen. Everyone's patterns are different, but they're always bigger and more elaborate on males."

«What is he asking about?» Jooral asked curiously.

«Pryce can't see our patterns, so he's asking what they look like,» Fathom explained.

«How is he just learning about this now?» Anvonh asked, eyes narrowed.

«I forgot that he can't see them, okay?» Fathom asked, sounding rather defensive.

Jooral hummed in thought, then abruptly stood up to return to her cave. «I'm going to get something. I'll be right back.»

«Wait,» Anvonh said, tilting her head, «if he cannot see our markings, then does he see us as we appear in the photographs?»

"I…don't know," Pryce said. He had no idea which wavelengths of light were accurately captured by photographs. "You're dark blue, Fathom is a little lighter, and Ghorrah and Jooral are both light grey. That's about it."

"We sound so boring when you describe it like that," Fathom sighed. "Dragons without patterns are like crystals that do not shine."

Pryce pursed his lips. "Now I feel like I'm missing out."

Jooral returned less than a minute later, hobbling as she carried something in one of her foreclaws. Interestingly she walked using the 'palm' of her unbroken right wing as an arm.

«Oh, this is a good one,» Anvonh said, and everyone watched as Jooral set down a two meter-long wood carving of a dragon curled protectively over a nest. The craftsmanship on display was incredibly impressive, but more interesting were the spiraling swirls depicted by finely ground fragments of pearlescent nacre.

"Wow, that's beautiful," Pryce said in genuine awe.

The carving possessed a great amount of detail, making it all the more impressive when one considered that it was crafted by someone whose talons lacked the dexterity of human digits. Each meticulously carved scale captured the rippling impression of a dragon in motion while the gemstone eyes sparkled with life, making it seem as if the statue might leap from its nest at any moment.

"Do clamshells look like dragon patterns?" Pryce asked, curious about the choice of material.

"No, but it's just supposed to be pretty, not accurate," Fathom replied. "This one has the patterns of a male," he added.

"But the horns are curved, so isn't that a female?"

Jooral shrugged when Fathom relayed Pryce's question. «Male patterns are prettier.»

«Enough, we can talk about this later,» Ghorrah said, causing all heads to turn to her. «None of you have asked the most important pressing question: What do these 'humans' intend on doing here?»

«The humans on Pryce's ship were explorers, but there was a…problem,» Fathom said, glancing down at Pryce. «The others never made it to our land alive; of the fifty humans in the ship, Pryce was the only survivor.»

«Forty-nine of them are already dead?» Anvonh asked, aghast. «What happened to them?»

Fathom shrugged. «I'm not sure why, but the ship was filled with bad air, which suffocated the humans. Pryce was lucky to have survived.»

«So they're not infallible then,» Ghorrah rumbled, staring intently at Fathom. «But that still doesn't answer my question. What did these 'explorers' intend to do?» she growled, her words laced with the slightest hint of danger.

«Their intent was to learn more about our land, and to judge whether or not it would be suitable for their own uses,» Fathom firmly replied. «Of course, they did not expect to find us here; in fact, they didn't know of our existence at all.»

«They don't?» Anvonh asked, blinking in surprise. «But what about the messages others have tried to send over the ocean?»

Fathom shrugged. «It seems the ocean currents don't carry them to the land of the humans. Either that or the humans thought the messages were made by other humans,» he said, scratching his neck. «The point is that the humans don't even know that we exist, so not even Pryce knows how the others are going to react to the news of our existence. It is true that some of them may very well be a threat,» he admitted, «but Pryce wishes for there to be peace between us, and he has promised to do everything he can to convince the other humans to agree with him.»

«Of course he'd tell you that,» Ghorrah snorted in derision. «He has every incentive for us to have a favorable view of him, especially when he needs our help to find the other humans, whenever they arrive – I assume that's what you two are here for?» she asked, unimpressed.

«Close,» Fathom admitted. «The other humans will arrive in twenty days. We know their intended destination, but they might be blown off course, which is why we need help to find them before they'll be discovered by the others. The last thing we need is for someone to get hurt because of a misunderstanding.» He had to suppress a shudder at the thought of what a rifle might do to an unsuspecting dragon.

«I can't imagine anyone hurting a crafter unless they were attacked first,» Ghorrah rumbled with narrowed eyes. «So why are you worried? Do you fear these humans will be the aggressors?»

«Just look how much smaller they are than us – of course they'd be quick to attack if someone just drops out of the skies without warning,» Fathom said, resisting the urge to flick his flight membranes.

«Wait,» Anvonh interrupted. «If Pryce is the first crafter to discover our land, then how could they have possibly planned an arrival day and location? They shouldn't know anything about our land, right?»

«Well…it turns out that humans can make things fly at ridiculous speeds and altitudes, so they sent a camera up to make this,» Fathom said, and gestured for Pryce to show the next picture.

«This is a picture of our land,» Fathom said, and turned to face his audience who were shocked into silence. «North side here.»

«Well why don't they just fly here then?» Anvonh demanded as she jabbed a wing-thumb at the picture.

«They can only send small things flying around the world, like a camera. They wouldn't be able to do this with something the size of the ship,» Fathom replied, wondering if this is what Pryce felt like whenever he had to explain things to him. He took a quick glance at the others and noticed that Ghorrah didn't seem to be quite as amazed as Jooral and Anvonh – in fact, she seemed quite troubled, though she opted to remain silent for now.

«So…they know what the rest of the world looks like?» Jooral asked, even as she continued to stare raptly at the image.

«More or less,» Fathom nodded. «Here's a map of the rest of the world.»

«This is…a lot to take in,» Jooral murmured.

«Agreed,» Anvonh said, nodding enthusiastically.

«So it's only a matter of time then…» Ghorrah muttered under her breath. «Say that we decide to help the crafters. How can we trust this one? What if he's lying? What if he's just using us? Have you ever thought about that?»

«Pryce risked his life to save mine,» Fathom firmly asserted as he glared back at her, his spines mantling in response. «He is my friend. I trust him.»

«Did he now?» Ghorrah chuffed, flicking her flight membranes dismissively. «And how did that happen?»

Pryce warily watched Ghorrah as Fathom began to recount the events that led them to this point. It seemed that she was the more skeptical of the lot, and he couldn't quite blame her for being cautious when he thought about how alien humans were to dragons.

«He can cure infections?» Anvonh asked in amazement.

«Yes, but only some kinds,» Fathom nodded. «Pryce says that most forms of disease are caused by tiny creatures called 'bacteria' that invade your body. He says that the medicine he uses kills these tiny creatures, but leaves the body unharmed.»

«Tiny creatures?» Jooral asked, sounding more confused than skeptical. «What tiny creatures? And how could they hurt us if they're so small?»

«He has a tool that lets you see them. We can show that to you tomorrow,» Fathom said, glancing towards the setting sun.

«Fascinating…are you sure you cannot show it to us now?» Jooral asked rather plaintively.

«It is getting late,» Ghorrah noted. «We'll continue this conversation tomorrow. Anvonh, bring them to that cave riseward of here. They can sleep there for the night.»

«Of course,» Anvonh nodded, and turned to leave.

«I'll see you tomorrow then,» Fathom bowed his head before allowing Pryce to clamber back up upon his neck.

«See you soon!» Jooral said, and waved her unbroken wing before rushing off – probably to try and put Pryce's advice to the test.

He was a little surprised that dragons used such a similar gesture, but then realized that a flag-like appendage was a sensible choice for getting another's attention.

It took only a few minutes for Anvonh to lead them to their new temporary home, though the trip was filled with an awkward silence.

«Here's the cave. If you need water, there is a river a few beats north,» she called out, gesturing down to the area below.

«Thank you, Anvonh-ǂ,» Fathom said gratefully as he surveyed the area. «Do you want-» he began as he turned to face Anvonh, but she was already flying away. «-to go hunting,» Fathom finished lamely, and landed on the mountainside in a subdued manner.

"I'm sure she didn't mean anything bad by it," Pryce said once they had landed.

"Don't lie," Fathom snorted irritably. "She didn't ask anything about me, and look how quickly she left. It is obvious that she does not want to speak to me."

"She looked happy to see you?" Pryce suggested, though it was hard for him to be certain. She was certainly more shocked to see a crafter than she was to see her father, but that was hardly indicative of anything much.

"That...is true," Fathom sighed, flattening himself against the ground so that Pryce could dismount with less difficulty. "But she could have asked me something, anything. It has been so long since I have seen her," he sighed, looking forlornly up at the sky.

"Maybe she just didn't know what to say," Pryce suggested, being quite familiar with that feeling. "Next time you see her, just ask her what's wrong."

"I can't just ask that," Fathom groused.

"Why not?"

"Because...because I..." Fathom sighed, lowering his head. "I…am afraid of what she might think about me."

"...I can understand that," Pryce said, nodding sympathetically. "But she left to get stronger, right? Maybe she's also afraid – afraid to learn what you think of her."

"That is ridiculous, why would she think that I…" Fathom trailed off, a distant look in his eyes. He turned around and padded his way into the cave, and Pryce had to jog to catch up to him.

"Knowing things won't change the truth. Wouldn't it be better to learn the truth sooner rather than later? I know this isn't an easy decision to make, but I think you should ask her tomorrow," Pryce said, following Fathom into the cave.

"I will...think about it," Fathom said, and curled up to go to sleep.

"Weren't you going to go hunting? I thought you were hungry?" Pryce asked, confused.

"I wasn't hungry," Fathom mumbled beneath a wing. "Goodnight, Pryce."

"...Goodnight, Fathom."

«What a headache,» Ghorrah groaned as she watched Hironh and Anvonh fly off with the crafter.

«Really? I think it's quite exciting,» Jooral replied absently – she was already gathering materials to test out her newly received hypothesis.

«It's terrifying is what it is,» Ghorrah chuffed. «Just look at the difference between the first and second ships. In less than two centuries they've gone from making constructs of wood to ones made entirely of iron.»

«'Steel', apparently,» Jooral corrected.

«That's not better!» Ghorrah groused, her spines beginning to mantle. «What are we going to do when they make more of these ships, and suddenly we have stars knows how many of these crafters running around doing whatever they want? »

«Of course it is always possible that these humans will be a threat,» Jooral said in measured tones. «But they're going to come sooner or later, and right now they're willing to share their advanced knowledge, so why wouldn't we ally with them?»

«I'm not saying we shouldn't ally with them,» Ghorrah sighed. «In fact, we don't have any other choice, but we still need to take precautions. They're far too dangerous for us to leave things up to chance.»

«Of course,» Jooral nodded amicably. «Why do you think I was asking all those questions about their technology? With the future being so uncertain, we ought to learn as much as we can while we can.»

«Please,» Ghorrah chuffed, her eyes narrowing in a smile. «You really expect me to believe that you weren't just indulging your curiosity?"

«I can do both at the same time,» Jooral innocently hummed.

«Of course, forgive me for doubting you,» Ghorrah snorted, flicking her flight membranes. «Still, it's such a shame about those images,» she sighed. «If it weren't for those we might've been able to have a few more decades to prepare.»

«Well, we do what we can with what we have,» Jooral shrugged. «And besides, 'Pryce' seems nice enough. I'd hate to have to hurt him.»

«Hmm…it is surprising that Anvonh's father would vouch for him like that,» Ghorrah admitted. «Males like him usually aren't quick to admit their indebtedness, so I don't think he's lying…even if he is a piteous sort.»

«Agreed,» Jooral nodded as she began carving away at a plank of wood. «We just don't know enough about humans to really say, but they seem reasonable enough if Pryce is any indication.»

Ghorrah nodded in agreement. «I just hope he's not an exception, for all our sakes.»

[JOURNAL ENTRY EXCERPTS]

Day 80,

Today went well, all things considered.

First impressions:

– Ghorrah doesn't seem to trust easily, though I can't say that her wariness is unwarranted.

– Jooral was nearly the opposite of Ghorrah. She was quite friendly and expressed even more interest in human inventions than Anvonh, though the latter does seem to show significant deference to the two older females.

– Anvonh seems just as curious as Fathom, though she seemed oddly reserved at times. I fully expect she'll need to have a talk with Fathom eventually; I just hope that they'll be able to resolve things without too much issue.

Jooral and Ghorrah are both a similar light grey in color, which is apparently a dragon's natural hue. Anvonh herself is a deep blue, much like Fathom before his injuries. She claims that the elders don't care enough to maintain a diet of pigment-rich foods, so their silvery scales are purely a product of their advanced age.

For now, Jooral and Ghorrah have allowed Fathom and me to sleep in a cave a short distance away from their own. Like Fathom's own home, these caves appear to be largely artificial in origin, and it doesn't appear to be very lived-in. I suspect they don't receive many visitors – or at least, none who stay for long.