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Training with Kestrel always ends badly.
Firelight was melting into the stone beneath Clay’s scales, and the torches that the light came from flew across the room, blurry figures multiplying in rows on the cave walls. Clay groaned, quietly, but he couldn’t focus any of it.
His own talons in front of him were fuzzy brown blobs, and just the sight made Clay’s head ache. A steady throb had been building up in his skull for a while, making him feel sensitive to the whole world, which is why his brain gave a painful jolt when a sound to his far right registered. Clay started groaning again before he realized what the sound was.
Someone was coming down the tunnel, towards Clay; if it was one of the adults, he knew they wouldn't be happy to see him still sprawled across the floor where Kestrel left him. Urgently, Clay swiped his talons across the stone, aiming to push himself onto his feet, but he only managed to push himself closer to the tunnel entrance. His tail, thick and unwieldy, flopped pathetically over his back talons.
It was too late. Just as Clay recognized the sound of webbed talons slapping on rock, a blue face appeared in Clay’s peripheral vision, staring at him.
Clay almost sighed in relief. It was Webs. Webs never hit the dragonets; Sunny said that Webs actually got sad whenever one of the other guardians hit the dragonets.
The blue face grew a neck and then a body as Webs came around to where Clay could see him. Webs paused, and then his front leg and chest lit up in a succession. Clay struggled to decipher which selective stripes were dancing across Webs's scales, with the cave drizzling all over his eyeballs, but with a little guesswork he managed.
[She got you good, huh?]
That didn’t seem like something Webs would say.
Clay squinted at the colors uncertainly. Feeling like an idiot- he always did- he realized that the blue on the SeaWing was too deep, less like the grey-blue of Webs’s scales and more like the colors on the map that the dragonets had pinned up in their cave. The kind of blue that Clay imagined the ocean as. Tsunami.
Clay tried to respond, but his talons were uncooperative and it hurt to move his shoulder. Tsunami didn’t need an answer from him anyways. She got all she needed from the shattered stalagmites and fresh scorch marks on the walls, and let out a mighty snort- like she was trying to blow a loogie out her snout. If Clay's vision wasn't trying to split into quarter segments, he'd see the angry expression wrinkling Tsunami's snout.
Tsunami’s tail lashed once, then she hopped over Clay’s lumpy body and wiggled under his splayed wings, trying to push him up. Clay’s talons scrabbled over rock and his tail twisted- and with a few clicks- Tsunami finally got him to stand. Nudging with her snout, she pushed Clay into the tunnel, letting him lean on her as they walked.
The climb back to the dragonets’ cave was both long and quick. Clay’s talons ached but he’s already forgotten walking up the tunnels. Like he blinked and suddenly he was standing in the lip of their cave; Tsunami pushed him toward their rug, bunched up beside the scroll rack. It’s the softest thing that they have under the mountain.
He dragged one corner of the rug out- so it covered more floor- and carefully flopped onto the woven mat. Clay closed his eyes. Tsunami was shouting something out into the tunnels, and it sounded like an impressively close rendition of Starflight’s name. Mixed feelings flared up under the blanket of exhaustion. Pride- because Tsunami’s been working hard to sound out each of the dragonets’ names and she was yelling Starflight’s name near perfectly, and indignant anger on Tsunami’s behalf, since the only reason Tsunami thought it was necessary is because Kestrel kept bullying her.
Clay’s thoughts were just starting to sink down into the vast gloom of nothingness when something nudged his cheek, insistent but careful. Reluctantly, he blinked one eye open.
A black snout was all Clay could see for a moment, and then Starflight leaned back. The NightWing was holding something in both talons, though Clay couldn’t parse anything through the haze of steamy colors aside from a small white object and the way the torchlight gleamed on the second object.
Starflight seemed to be staring at him, twitching all over as the dragonet took in the state of Clay’s injuries. Distantly, he noticed Sunny and Glory filing into the cave, the former darting forward to tuck herself against Clay’s other side while the latter leapt onto one of the higher scroll racks, peering at Clay intensely.
This wasn’t the first time Clay or one of the other dragonets were hurt by their guardians, but their… handling has become increasingly rougher the older they grew. It was mostly Kestrel, and lately her attention’s been focused on Clay more than the other dragonets. Starflight’s a little late to adjust the intensity, he always was, and even though this wouldn’t be the last time he had to do this- clumsily taking the lead of medical emergencies- he felt himself locking up with fear. Even though he wasn’t the one in danger.
Clay offered him a wide, dopey smile. Starflight just stared at him.
Tsunami nudged Starflight with her tail, jolting him back into the present. Starflight set both his things down, and then waved one of his talons in Clay’s face. “Okay- um- Clay, how many claws am I holding up?”
Starflight spoke softly, guessing Clay was experiencing a migraine from how his eyes squinted and the way his flaps were severely tightened. The NightWing was already sure that Clay had a concussion, but he still wanted to make sure.
Clay focused on Starflight’s talons- or tried to. “Mmmuh , all of them?”
“No, I’m holding three,” The NightWing sounded calm, except there was a tremor on the edge of his words. “Confusion, trouble walking, maybe slurred speech—is everything blurry to you, Clay? Are you having trouble focusing?”
“Yes,” Clay’s throat closed around the word, making it come out as a croak.
The rest of that conversation dwindles into an uneasy interrogation of sorts. Starflight asked questions, Clay tried not to fall asleep, and Tsunami helped out when Starflight asked her to. The items Starflight brought into the cave turned out to be bandages and a bottle of disinfectant, and after announcing that Clay absolutely had a concussion, everyone except Starflight piled onto the MudWing to keep him from moving too much while his wounds were dressed.
It felt extremely unnecessary to Clay, especially when the acidic pain of disinfectant pouring into a flesh wound forced the largest dragonet to grit his teeth- just to avoid jostling Glory, who would no doubt become anxious if he moved too much. The RainWing herself didn’t seem too concerned with restraining Clay, instead having elected to spool herself into a roll of tawny scales and bundle into the dip between his shoulders. But it also made Clay a little happy, having an excuse to curl up with the other dragonets close by. (He wondered how Glory felt, though--she had to be feeling pretty uncomfortable right now, with all the physical contact-)
Unfortunately, Starflight finished quickly and started packing up his supplies before Clay could fully sink into the joy that positive contact brought him.
Clay watched- unhappily- as Starflight padded away to put his things up- in the moment when the NightWing finished his ministrations, he anticipated the cozy weight to disappear, to feel cold and lonely when the other dragonets would get up--because Kestrel always got weirdly offended when she found the dragonets curled around each other in a warm pile. Clay expected everyone to leave, now that Clay wasn’t in danger of blood loss or what else. So when Starflight returned to his side, after slotting the medical supplies onto one of the stone shelves- carved out of the cave walls- rather than leaving for the study room or climbing into his own bed space, Clay felt his insides fill with hope. That hope exploded into happiness when Starflight climbed into the space between Clay and Tsunami, who had scooted a little to allow the NightWing access.
Clay wondered for a minute, a little unsure though happy, and then dared to ask, “You guys’ aren’t going to go sleep on your own?”
Tsunami twisted so her stomach was facing up, and Starflight shook his head a little, horns and scales brushing against Clay’s right shoulder. “No. For concussions, you shouldn’t sleep for too long, so I’ll be staying close so that I can wake you.”
“The rest of us are staying because we want to!” Sunny smiled, draping her head and talons over Clay’s neck. “We haven’t slept in a pile for so long. I miss it.”
[Me too.] Tsunami turned over onto her side- back towards Clay- squishing Starflight a bit. The NightWing didn’t complain though. Glory didn’t say anything either, but the inaction, the fact she didn’t try to move away said more than words could.
If any of the adults saw this, they’d instantly be in trouble. Kestrel would be furious if she caught the dragonets like this; if Dune- or maybe even Webs- happened to walk past and saw, they’d just tell Kestrel. Clay didn’t want his friends to get in trouble, but… he’s missed this. Like a missing limb, he’s been wishing he could sleep like this with his friends again. It felt right, and the pieces in his head always seemed to slot perfectly when the dragonets were together. Maybe the adults wouldn’t realize- with the position of the door, and their spot angled far to the left side of the room, the guardians would have to stick their heads through the entrance in order to spot the dragonets piled onto the rug. Maybe the dragonets could be safe, sleeping like this.
“Yeah.” Clay hummed, his smile bigger yet feeling heavy with exhaustion; with something like relief, he realized he could finally submit this sluggish awareness for comfortable rest. Curling his tail closer to Tsunami and Starflight, the dragonet closed his eyes. “I’ve missed this.”
(interlude)
“Did Kestrel hit you on the head?” Starflight asked. Clay hesitated. The NightWing rephrased his question. “Did anything hit you on the head, like the wall?”
“Mhm.” Clay hummed. “Yes?” Starflight said. “Yes,” Clay agreed. “I hit the ‘all.”
“Okay. Okay, um-” Starflight’s head turned, little horns catching the light. “Tsunami.” Starflight mumbled. He still needed to sound out his words while signing. “Come- come here? Help me, please."
The blue mass- Clay hadn’t realized it was dissolving on the edge of his vision- came closer to the two. As Tsunami’s stripes flashed brightly in the low light and Starflight signed to explain something to her, Clay’s attention drifted again. He gasped a little as his brain gave an unhappy lurch, like it was pushing against the sensitive bone of his skull, upsetting both his vision and stomach.
He was quickly brought back when Tsunami crouched close to him and, seemingly on Starflight’s instruction, held up one glowing digit to the far left of Clay’s vision. Starflight told Clay to keep his eyes open as Tsunami slowly moved her claw to the right.
After a minute or two of Tsunami holding her light-up talons in Clay’s face, Starflight tapped on her shoulder to get her to stop. Tsunami snuffed, but put down her talons. Starflight started signing to Tsunami, and through a pounding headache Clay realized that Starflight was projecting his voice, which meant Clay needed to pay attention as well.