Book One: Onnu and Pannu

Michael

She hadn't directly said that each kin was a specific personality type. She'd focused instead on their strengths, in a way they would hopefully remember. "Clever as a catkin" became a saying, from that day on. So did "resourceful as an ogre". That was but one example of the ways in which they kept her words alive.
   After her admonishment, she went on to tell eight stories throughout the day, condensed from their full-length novel forms. Some were hers, others were ones she remembered from Erdewaz.
   There were breaks for food and drink, where the dragons took turns flying to the pondlake. They didn't have to, but it was so crowded at the wells, it was just easier.
   Onnu took great pains to tell light-hearted tales, to take the sting out of her first story. Some were comedies, a couple were romances. She also snuck in a few parables here and there, to keep morality in the back of their minds.
   At the end of the day, when Radar said it was nearly time for bed, Pannu treated them to one of Onnu's favorite songs of his. She hummed along happily, the crystals glowing where the gaps in crystal cover were. She noticed that they'd been bold enough to begin harvesting the valuable material, now that the eggs had hatched.
   I wonder what it's made of?
   It seemed that all she had to do was ask the question for the information to surface. It was like typing a query into a search engine, which was filled with what she'd downloaded from the cloud.
   Crystal-cover, as hard and versatile as it was, was the half digested, powdered remains of the dragons who'd lived in the Holds.
   As it turned out, Charon couldn't digest the bones of a dragon. Instead, they ground them into a fine dust, along with everything else, and sort of... excreted the mess of bone and digestive juices, in a horrid sort of acid rain. It wouldn't burn, but it also wouldn't be pleasant to watch. Especially if you'd known the dragon in question.
   Because the crystals had been created by the dragons, they drew the partially digested bone residue to them. It would be the worst sort of magnet imaginable. But, once the mess dried, little kin could then scrape it off of the crystals, and craft useful things from them.
   Good to know we're useful, even after we're gone, she thought.
   Everything they use is part of the lifecycle of the planet. Even us, I guess. Everything's probably biodegradable, or reusable. Those bowls they make out of shells will become Charon food when they break, unless they find ways of mending them. Even mended, they'll probably start to decompose after a while. I'd wager that our bone dust may just be infinitely reusable, if the Charon can't digest it. That might balance out the finite supply. The clay pottery is reusable, too, though I don't know how many times it can be reformed.
   She'd seen a Charon defecate once. Only once, in the entirety of their time on the planet. They used everything they ate, she now knew, so that one time must have been the indigestible parts of a dragon. This made sense, since she'd seen it happen over the City.
   Knowing that there was potentially an open Hold gave her pause, as she drifted off to sleep. Did she tell Amber, or was it all too likely that another dragon had already snatched it up? It had been during the collective mating season, so it was highly likely that an inexperienced dragon, or pair of dragons, hadn't reached safety in time. Caught up in the hormonal rush, they might have missed its approach.

   We three have names, little one.

   Onnu froze, mantling tighter over her hatchlings.

   You comprehend?

   This gave the booming voice pause.

   Know this, little one. I, who partake of your leavings, am called Michael. No, not that Michael. That one is busy elsewhere. My broodsibs are Gabriel and David. No, not those. Yahweh has an affinity for some names, it would seem. Fear not, for you are young and healthy. I will not partake of you this day. Hmm. I do enjoy the flavors of your offal. Was there feasting?

   Onnu, perplexed by the entire conversation, nodded. It dawned on her that she didn't know if the Charon had eyes, so she said "yes" in her mind, hoping that it heard her.

   I do not like this word, "it". Can you not think of me by name?

   That set her aback. Um, I can try? I don't want to call you the wrong name, by accident, though.

   Michael thought for a while, chewing on the debris from the day. I suppose Charon is better than "it". I will give my broodsibs this word. Do please try to know us.

   Onnu nodded, then mentally agreed to try. She kept forgetting the Charon couldn't see her. Strangely, it seemed her data download included very little information about the Charon. She queried the cloud, but nothing new came up.
   How did one tell apart three manta ray looking things that were larger than your entire Hold?
   You asked someone who looked for them every day. Namely, a Watcher (the kin who perched on a spire and watched for Charon approach).
   There was a steady rotation, by now. She didn't want to ask the Watcher on duty, so she approached one of the other three who'd taken up the position at Egg Hold. She ruled out Flit and Scatter, as they were wont to yelp that a Charon was approaching, and duck down as soon as a dragon or gryphon repeated their warning.
   She supposed it was quite brave for birdkin to even volunteer to be Watchers, as they seemed as fearful as gnomes were. To be fair, they weren't as heavy as dragons, and were all too vulnerable to being sucked up. They wedged themselves as tightly into their sleeping niches as many of the smallest kin did.
   No, she thought it best to ask Stone Eagle. He was so named because he was a "stone" skinned gargoyle, with the keen eye of an eagle. He, like Onnu, had been named by others. He didn't mind; in fact, he took it as a compliment. Hardly anyone who hadn't named themselves got mad, at least in their Hold. If their dragons had been given names, they must have made an impression to also be given their name. If his skin was closer to a mossy stone, well, it was still stone.
   She found him near Todd, helping Clay polish off the few leftovers from Hatching Day.
   "Oh hey, I meant to talk to you," Todd said.
   Onnu quirked a brow ridge. He knew that he didn't understand Draconic, and yet, he initiated conversation? Her curiosity was piqued.
   "Go on."
   Before Stone could translate, Todd continued. To be fair, the tone of voice did convey a lot.
   "So you know how we have so many people here, and not a lot of 'em have wings?" He absently scratched a horn nub.
   "Yes," she said slowly. Again, the general idea got across, so he kept talking.
   "Well, I got to thinking last night. No, night before. So, we can't climb over the spires, 'cause of the angle. Got nothing to build stairs with, so that's out. But what if we dug under them?"
   "What?"
   "Well, the gryphons and birds and all of them got real tired, so we couldn't ask 'em to run us back an' forth much, yeah?"
   Onnu stared at Todd. He didn't sound like himself. Not that his voice was--well yes, actually, it had gotten rougher. When had he grown fur on his arms? Were those horns coming in?
   She was so distracted by the change that had come over him, she almost didn't hear what he was actually saying.
   "What? No. We can't breach the defenses of the Hold like that. Those spires aren't just to break up Charon winds; they're also to keep out things like vulrhin and wolmods." The wolf/komodo dragon looking things had recently started coming down out of the hills beyond Rover Grove, to the northwest. No one knew why, but they'd had to increase the guards for kin gathering materials or food plants.
   "Okay, then we only dig from Egg Hold to our other Hold."
   Onnu gaped down at Todd. He'd understood her, without a translator!