King of The Dragons (Wings of Fire X Monster Hunter)

Part 2: Chapter 16 & 17

It felt familiar, being underground like this. She wondered if other dragons - especially more SandWings - would be more unnerved by these surroundings. Stormcaller didn't seemed bothered by it, but then again, nothing seemed to  faze the NightWing. But this was so similar to the small, enclosed world she grew up in. She almost expected to turn a corner and find the study cave, with the map spread against one wall and scrolls piled in the corner and her friends arguing over who would play Blaze when they acted out the history of the war.

"Have you been here before?" Sunny asked Stormcaller.
"No." The older NightWing shook his head.
"Then why do you seem to know where you're going?" Sunny said.
"I'm tracking your father," he said, pausing for a moment in a low passageway with a low, craggy ceiling before continuing onward.

"You're tracking him?" Sunny looked at him confused. "How?"
"You know that weird feeling the tunnels give off?" Stormcaller asked, glancing back at her. She nodded, thinking of the strange hole in the boulder and tree. "Well, all animus things give off that strange feeling, even animus dragons. Sometimes it's just so small that you can't notice without knowing how to. That's how, I'm following the feeling of that, well, feeling."

That actually made a little sense to Sunny. But that only raised the question of how Stormcaller was able to feel the unfeelable feeling.

The torchlight flickered suddenly, dipping and swaying, and then Sunny felt it as well: a gust of wind, whistling down the tunnel from far away. Then she heard it: the sound of rhythmic breathing that rasped quietly somewhere.

A few paces ahead, Stormcaller stopped in front of a cave and Sunny held her breath. He stepped of to the side, allowing Sunny to go in first.
'This is it,' she though, glancing inside and let out a low exhale.

At first, as she edged closer inside, the cave looked empty . . . but then the firelight reflected off something black and glossy in the shadows against the back wall.
Scales. Black scales, rising and falling in sleep. It was a NightWing for sure.

Sunny stopped and stared at the slumbering dragon.
'Is that my father?'
He was bigger than Thorn, but slightly smaller than Stormcaller. Deep lines were etched into his face, so he looked as if he were in pain even in his sleep. His talons were curled awkwardly into stiff shapes and his tail flopped heavily on the ground behind him, barely moving as he breathed, as though it were made of stones.

Sunny took a quick breath in, and then stepped closer.
It wasn't just his tail. Other parts of of the dragon - his back legs, his shoulders, the edges of his wings - looked heavier and thicker than a normal dragons scales.
'Like he's actually turning into stone. Is that possible?'

She peered at the section of tail closest to her. The black scales looked like dark pebbles here, sinking into the skin beneath.
She was so preoccupied, studying this odd phenomenon, that it took her a moment to realize that the dragon's eyes had opened, and he was staring back at her.

"Oh!" she gasped, jumping back. "I'm sorry! I didn't - I mean - I didn't mean to wake you - I was - the storm -"
"I don't bite," he said in a deep, serious voice.
"Oh," Sunny said again. "Well. That's good. You mean you don't bite other dragons, right? Like me? Are you being reassuring?"
He blinked slowly at her. "I don't bite . . . other dragons."
"Great," said Sunny, not feeling very reassured. It was unsettling how he hadn't moved a muscle of his body as he spoke to her, even his jaws seemed to hinge very slowly open for him to talk.

"That's good," Stormcaller said, making himself known by stepping halfway into the cave. "You're Stonemover, right?"
The NightWing looked at Stormcaller for a long moment, not answering, and he looked worried. "Yes," he answered slowly. "Have you come to . . . . drag me back?"
'It is my father. It's really him. He's still alive and right here in front of me. And he doesn't look crazy and homicidal. He just looks . . . sad.'