The Princess's Feathers

All good Dragons know it’s crucial to hold their fire close to their chest. But what should happen if you do not? Brothers and Sisters, listen now to the cautionary tale of Raku, the foolhardy Kin who became a warning to us all.

Long ago lived a Dragon named Raku, Son-Of-Ebou. From a young age, Raku’s flame was restless. Always used to hunt, always at the ready to impress his flock mates. But despite his skill, Raku cared little about using his fire responsibly. ‘Keuvra’s edict does not matter to me,’ he thought. ‘Even a fool must acknowledge my skill, for not once have I caused a runaway burn.’

One day, the flock’s elders approached Raku with troubled faces. ‘Reckless featherbrain!’ they scolded. ‘Why do you so heedlessly disgrace Keuvra’s edict?’

‘Because I am strong,’ answered Raku. ‘From the concealed dens of Litsha to the Gryhawks that soar above, no prey is safe from my scorching flames. Are the mothers not well fed in harvestwing? Or the fledges that frolic in greenwing’s creche?’

‘The creche will burn if you do not cease,’ warned the elders. ‘The power of fire must be respected!’ But Raku’s ears were full. Foolish Raku continued to use his fire with reckless abandon.

One day at Relno’s Leap, Raku was hunting Spikehorn. He stood at the wood’s edge, surveying a great herd of prey. ‘This shall be easy,’ he thought. ‘I’ll use my fire to block their escape, as I have always done. And th—‘

“Hey, Kuro!!”

The soot-plumaged drakaina seizes up. “Huh?” she stammers, her head still caught in the engaging act of storytelling. Evening sunlight shimmers through towering pillars of rock behind her, illuminating the hackle feathers of her neck in a divine-looking glow. Gazing down from the rock she’s perched upon, she tilts her head and asks, “What is it, Frope?”

Sitting to my left, Frope droops her wings in disappointment. “That’s not how the story goes!”

A few days have passed since Frope joined Kuro and me for training. After some initial sessions in the forest around her den, she flew us to Tall Spires, a small settlement nestled high atop the mountain ridges lining the Great Valley. Here, the land is barren and rocky, almost devoid of all vegetation save for the occasional pocket of alpine shrubs growing sparsely between cracks in the stone. A few Kin make their dens in the caves here, but this area is primarily known among the flock as a training ground for their fire. With nothing significant that can catch on fire, it’s the perfect place to practice.

According to Frope, fledges don’t normally train up here; proficiency with fire is not a requirement to come of age. But after I reminded Kuro I attempted to use my fire against the Redaga in self-defense, she became noticeably concerned and insisted we take a trip here. It seemed like a fair proposition – thanks to my inexperience, I may have burned Owens Island to the ground. But evidently, there’s more to our fire than just using it safely. After we flew in a few minutes ago, Kuro began by telling us a well-known story that fledges are told. That is until Frope interrupted her.

Caught off guard, Kuro’s tail quirks. “I’m telling the story wrong?” Instead of being agitated, there’s a hint of amusement in her voice. “Which part am I getting wrong, exactly?”

Frope flicks her eyes at me and sighs.

“First of all, Raku wasn’t hunting spikehorn. He was hunting kerin. If he were hunting spikehorn, he wouldn’t have needed to use his fire. Secondly, why would he stand at the edge of the field and not on the cliffs above? Why do you think that place is called ‘Relno’s Leap,’ huh?”

Kuro doesn’t seem the least bit phased and replies confidently, “That’s the version of the story I was taught. And besides, the finer details aren’t important. It’s the ending that matters.”

Frope rolls her eyes. “You learned a weird version, Kuro.”

Gosh, Frope sure is a sassy girl! And for her part, Kuro seems to be taking her backtalk in stride. She flashes a smile at her, if only for a moment. “Then we will continue with my ‘weird’ version. Asha, listen carefully. This part is important.”

From there, Kuro finishes telling the narrative without interruption. Raku takes to the sky and hunts the spikehorn like he’d done many times before. But as soon as he uses his fire to trap his prey, a great wind blows, pushing the flames off-course. They sail into a grove of trees, and a forest fire erupts.

Keuvra appears before Raku, scolding him for ignoring his edict. Raku pleads with Keuvra to show mercy, but it’s no use. Raku is banished from Jade and never seen again — divine punishment for disrespecting his wishes.

It’s an interesting story, though I’m unsure how I feel about it. On the one hand, Gust revealed to me that the deities can interfere on Jade in certain circumstances. Keuvra appearing out of the blue no longer seems as extraordinary as I thought. But on the other hand… he kills Raku! Poof! Gone! The deities are supposed to guide their species, not execute them!

Of course, this story could just be fiction — A tale written to dissuade Kin from using their fire recklessly. I suppose it doesn’t need to be true as long as it accomplishes that.

Kuro continues after finishing the story. “Keuvra’s edict allows us to use our fire, but only sparingly. Fire is extremely dangerous — a single stray ember can cause entire forests to burn, displacing an already scarce population of prey. You must never use your fire while hunting, no matter how tempting it may be. And fire may only be used in self-defense as a last resort to save your life.”

Kuro’s eyes settle on me. At least I wasn’t breaking any rules when I fought the Redaga. Not that it would’ve mattered because my fire completely fizzled when I tried to use it.

Mental Note: Remember to ask her why it didn’t work.

“Asha, you have already resorted to using your fire, once in self-defense, once as a threat, and once out of curiosity. Hopefully, you will discover a way to turn back into a Lemur. But until that day arrives, you must know how to use fire safely and responsibly!”

From there, Kuro trains Frope and I in the practical uses of fire: Igniting ember root fires, illuminating dark spaces, and snow removal. Lighting ember root fires is easy for both of us, as it only involves controlling your fire to create a small, little burp of flame. For some real-world experience, Kuro has us practice by igniting the shrubs that grow between the cracks in the stone. I’ll be able to keep myself warm when I return to Ellyntide!

After some gentle encouragement to pay attention, Frope can produce the small, controlled flash of flame necessary to illuminate dark spaces. But I find it much more bothersome, and for a while, I’m only able to produce wild streams of flame with little control over their size. I suppose Frope has the advantage over me, having lived her entire life thus far as a Lithan.

Even though we’re friends, Kuro is unrelenting as a teacher. When I perform a technique wrong, she’s right there with a stern wing, knowing precisely what I did wrong. It’s clear she’s taught these lessons to countless Kin before me, and I start to understand why she took Frope’s storytelling criticisms in stride: She really knows what the fwegh she’s talking about!

It reminds me of the training sessions Calypso used to give me. I’m sure I’m in good han— er, talons, under Kuro’s wing.

Eventually, I can produce a smooth (and small!) flash of fire from my mouth. When I return home, I’ll be able to navigate by the cover of the night! With the first two techniques out of the way, there’s only one left: Clearing snow.

It’s not surprising to learn that Felra becomes buried in snow during winter. Kuro told me that even the entrance to White Mountain — a hole large enough for multiple Kin to fly through — can become completely sealed by avalanches and blizzards. Knowing how to clear snow is a life-saving skill for a Lithan! Though anyone can produce a large blast of fire, to do so with control takes skill.

Kuro explains as we walk to another peak at Tall Spires. “A long, long time ago, Kin were not taught how to control their fire. They believed it was ‘weak’ to tame the mighty power of flame. But as prey decreased and winters worsened, they were forced to change.”

I nod thoughtfully, pondering just long ago that was. “Your lessons about fire have been refined for generations. It’s no wonder there’s so much to learn.”

“That’s exactly right,” Kuro says. “Oh! And be sure to give yourself a full preen if you know you’ll be clearing snow. Your body is far less likely to scorch with fresh feathers.”

“Really!?” How could that be?

“Asha, I’m certain you wouldn’t know this, but your secretions help dispel flames from your body.”

Secretions…?

“Oh!” I chirp. “You mean the stuff that comes out of the oily nipple, right?”

Kuro and Frope stop walking.

Like a rickety wooden gate caught in a cool autumn breeze, the Kin slowly crane their necks around towards me. Their faces are painted with a kaleidoscope of contrasting emotions: Shock, amusement, and morbid curiosity.

Slowly, Kuro ratchets her muzzle open. “…The what?”

“Erk…” I stagger backward, realizing the grave error I’ve committed. I accidentally mentioned that dumb name I invented when I discovered how to preen myself! I let my guard down — I should never share the stuff that goes on inside my head!

“Asha…” Frope grins like a madwoman, tilting her head in close to mine. “What did you just call it?”

“That’s…” They stare at me, waiting patiently for a response. Argh, they aren’t going to allow me to get away without an explanation, are they? I clear my throat, wishing I could sink into the ground below me. “It’s, um. The name I invented. When I first saw it. I didn’t know what else to call it, okay?!”

“That is…” Kuro trails off, trying to withhold a laugh. She averts her gaze and lightly stifles a chitter before it can get out of control. “That is an interesting name for it, Asha.”

“Oh yeah?!” I puff my chest feathers, trying to reassert my dignity. “Then what do you guys call it, huh?”

Frope shrugs her wings. “I always called it the drip nip.”

…

…

…

Once we finish rolling around on the ground laughing (I still don’t know what it’s actually called…) we arrive at the peak Kuro was initially leading us to. She brings us to a cliff overlooking a steep rock wall that curves inward towards a large crevice that scales straight up to the top of the peak. Even as a Lithan, it’s awe-inspiring.

“Keuvra’s Scarp,” Kuro announces, angling her wing towards the crevice. “When the flock decided to train the accuracy of their fire, they realized there was no safe place to do so. And so, Keuvra appeared at Tall Spires, tearing the mountain asunder with his mighty claws.”

Well! That sure explains why this formation didn’t look natural. Like most of the architecture in Felra, Keuvra had a talon in creating it.

Kuro continues, “From here, Kin launch their fire over the precipice and into a cave that lies in the center of the crevice. If you skillfully aim your fire with the right intensity, it will disappear into the mountain. If you miss or the shot is too strong, it will spread out over the rocks. Understood?”

Frope and I nod in understanding. It seems simple enough. Being able to aim your fire accurately is essential, of course. But as I learned at Owens Island, it’s just as essential to control the flame’s intensity. After a brief demonstration of the technique by Kuro — which she performs flawlessly — Frope was the first to try. The first few times, she’s able to get her fire in roughly the right spot but can’t aim it perfectly and with the right intensity. But after a quick lesson from Kuro about controlling her flame in large bursts, the very next blast of fire sails cleanly over the precipice and disappears without a trace into the mountain.

“Heh-heh!!” she smiles, ruffling her wings in satisfaction. “Finally, mom will allow me to melt the snow around our den!”

Then, it was my turn. And for my part, I do… poorly!

While I can aim my fire close the hole in the rock, it’s not close enough for any of it to enter. Kuro pulls me aside for a brief talk, explaining some pointers about controlling my neck muscles when launching fire. Then after a brief moment to collect my thoughts, I roll my neck back and tickle fire muscle to unleash another fiery blast!

Nothing happens.

I try to tickle it again, and still, nothing occurs. A familiar feeling of inadequacy douses me like cold water.

“Have you lost your fire?” Kuro asks, sitting a short distance away next to Frope.

“Yeah,” I say. “This is what happened when I tried to use it against the Redaga!”

Kuro steps forward a few paces to examine me up close. “Well, you are quite small,” she muses, staring down at me. “Asha, it seems you don’t produce fire the same way most Kin do.”

“I don’t?”

She shakes her head. “A Kin’s fire is sustained by the prey they eat. For most Dragons, as long as they’re well-fed, they’ll never have to worry about losing their flames. But for some, their bodies can only produce a small amount. It seems you’re one of the unlucky ones.”

“Oh,” I scoff, mildly annoyed. “As if there weren’t enough things unusual about me.”

“It’s not an impairment!” Kuro roars, the vehemence of her voice completely catching me by surprise. “You can still live a normal life without producing a lot of fire! That is, um, if you wanted to live your life as Kin.”

Kuro lowers her wings and gazes away, trying to keep herself calm. Out of the corner of my eye I spot Frope, shocked as I am. What the hell was that all about? Kuro yelled at me so loud it sounded like I was getting a lecture from mom.

“Your explanation makes sense,” I say, preventing the conversation from lingering and becoming even more awkward. “I had very little prey on my journey to Felra, and it was all carrion. But before I confronted the airship-prey, you shared a piece of the Redaga with me. That must have refreshed my fire.”

“Exactly,” Kuro’s voice is steady, but her eyes are focused elsewhere. “Fish are also good prey to eat when your fire is gone. Luckily, there happens to be a stream nearby.” She draws her wings open and turns to stand at a ledge overlooking the Great Valley. “Frope, please stay with Asha. I’m going to hunt salmon so Asha can continue training.”

Frope dips her wings. “Y-Yeah, sure th—“

ROAR!

Instead of waiting for her to finish, Kuro calls her take-off and dives from the rock. She flaps hard to find a thermal and eventually settles into a descending current to lower herself into the forested valley below. Once she’s safely out of range, I whip my head to Frope. “What the hell was that about?”

“Beats me,” she shrugs her wings. “I’ve heard Kuro can act weird, but I’d never seen it before until now.”

How strange. This may be the first time Frope has witnessed this behavior, but not me. Last week when she showed me around her den, she interrupted the tour to ask a question, only to become flustered and quickly change the subject. It struck me as weird, but I didn’t think too much of it at the time. Kuro’s usually quite confident in herself, so why does she sometimes have strange lapses?

Wait, could she…? “Does Kuro have the same handicap I do? The one about making less fire?”

Frope stands to her talons and stretches them out in front of her. She yawns, pulls herself back up, and with a quick shake of the head she answers, “If she did, someone like Relmoon would never shut up about it."

She has a point. Kuro’s skills as a fighter and teacher seem well respected, even among those who dislike her. Instead, they have to attack her for minor things like being single and being unable to grow the size of the flock. If there were some obvious physical disability she had, I would’ve heard about it — a lot.

Frope turns to me with an opportunistic grin. “Hey, you can finish the rest of your training without me, right?”

“Huh?”

She unfurls her wings and steps toward the edge of the cliff. “One of my friends lives in Tall Spires, and I wanna say hi to him. So, I’m going to do that while you finish with Kuro! Bye!”

“What?! H-hey!!” I shout, but it’s too late. Frope leaps from the cliff and quickly locates the same thermal Kuro found moments earlier. She rides it up into the sky, then flies over the top of the ridge we walked down from, disappearing behind the rocks without so much as a wave goodbye.

Well, um. That was a bit rude. Couldn’t she have waited a little bit longer?

Alone on the rocks and with nothing better to do, I preen myself until Kuro’s cry from the valley breaks the silence. Winging up, she lands next to me and looks around confused. Before she can ask, I tell her, “She went to see a friend.”

Kuro stares at me for a second, then shakes her head and releases a sigh through a mouthful of fish. “Then we’ll continue without her.” She drops the fish to the ground and motions with her wing. “Eat these, and your fire should return.”

After quickly swallowing the fish, I find I can make fire again! But despite some additional advice from Kuro, my aim is no better than before. After many failed attempts to hit the right spot, Kuro eventually has to return to the river and fetch some more fish. By the time she arrives back, the sun is beginning to lower behind far-off mountain peaks, giving us precious little daylight to continue. After the second round of fish, my aim finally straightens up and I can get the fire onto the hole.

Then, miraculously, on my second attempt at trying to get the intensity of the fire right, I watch as fire sails through the hole and disappears without a trace.

“Huh? Did it work?!” I stare at Kuro in surprised shock.

“You did it!”

“I did it…?! I did it!!”

“You did it!!”

I don’t believe it! After failing for so long, I get the strength of my fire right on the second try?! How is that possible?! Actually, I don’t care!! I’m just so relieved I finally got it! I flutter my wings and cry out in relief!

SKREEEECH!

Kuro chitters at my display of joy. Bounding forward, her spiced scent falls over me once more as she angles her head down to give me a congratulatory nuzzle.

Her face is warm, and her feathers softer than any I’ve felt as a Lithan thus far. She holds her head against mine for just a moment, a moment which passes entirely too fast. As she pulls away, I jump up and give her a playful little nuzzle of my own.

“Eep!”

Caught by surprise, her face twists into a flustered expression I’ve never seen from her before. I can’t help but giggle at it, an act that only makes her even more rattled.

“W-well, then,” she says, trying to lower her feathers and regain composure. “Congratulations, Asha. I knew you’d get it eventually.”

“Yeah!!” I smile. “Thank you for believing in me! I couldn’t have done it without all your encouragement. Or, your fish.”

Kuro flashes another bout of emotion before settling into a more gentle smile. “Why don’t we go find Frope? We’ll find some prey and settle down back at our den for the night.”

“Okay!”

After that, we return to the center of Tall Spires in our search for Frope. I feel light as a feather, content with myself after working so hard to pass the trial. I guess I overwhelmed Kuro a little bit there, but too bad! I can’t help but be happy my training is going well.