Like a leaf descending silently on the breeze, I lower from warm skies and into the cool respite of a damp forest clearing. Passing the tree line, I take inventory of my surroundings: strange cypresses surround me, stocky and unfamiliar. The ground below me has been groomed of the explosive regrowth that occurs in greenwing, something I find concerning. It is, of course, the duty of all Kin to groom the forest for the well-being of the flock. But this is not our territory. This is beyond the lands of Kin, deep in the domain of False-Kin. How could witless prey animals know the utility of grooming the forest? Could it be an instinctual habit present in all Dragons? Perhaps these things don’t matter. I’m deep in enemy territory, hunting the most dangerous prey in Felra. One wrong move and it could be my last.

I land in the grass, my senses on high alert. The stench of False-Kin is strong — a young drakon landed here in the past talon mark, and the stale scents of others litter the clearing. Unbidden, a growl rises from my chest but is quickly subdued, leaving only the sound of my stampeding heart. Every alarm inside my head screams at me to return to the skies, but I have to persist. If I don’t prey on a False-Kin, then I’ll never become a full-fledged member of the flock. I have to push aside the sordid memory of my past two encounters with false-kin and press forward.

Mercifully, I’m with someone who knows how to fight today; I gaze skyward to see Kuro’s familiar silhouette circling the thermals. To pass the final trial, I must do so alone. But should my efforts be unsuccessful, she’s watching the battle like a gryhawk and ready to swoop down and defend me once more. Even if things go south, I’ll be safe.

That’s right; everything’s going to be fine. We can do this, Asha! Today is the day I come of age!

My nose twitches, and I capture the scent of the drakon. I fold my wings flat and trod slowly through the clearing with my head held low. I need to be especially careful today; the winds are blustery and unpredictable. My scent will be scattered about the forest like seeds to the wind. When I reach the tree line, I discover a flattened path that leads into the underbrush. Could this be a trail to a False-Kin den? If nothing else, it seems the task of locating one of the pitiful beasts is already a success.

I stalk beneath the cypresses, groomed shorter than the trees in the flock’s territory but still tall enough for me to pass. It occurs to me that my diminutive size has afforded me another advantage — a normal-sized Kin would have trouble stalking beneath these trees. Could that be one of the reasons Nakino had to cheat to come of age? Helping me further, the unfamiliar forest is alive with the sounds of greenwing, muffling my talons as I lurk through the underbrush. With each step, I feel my confidence rise.

Eventually, the scent of the drakon becomes overwhelming. I move past a thicket of green oshbush and find myself at the top of a small ridge, gazing into a broad depression where ferns have grown to cover the forest floor like a fuzzy green carpet. Fallen trees pepper the area, each one harboring a small, flattened patch of ferns near the trunk. A warm breeze blows through the trees, ruffling my feathers and bringing with it countless different False-Kin scents.

This appears to be some kind of communal spot for them to relax. Admittedly, it’s quite cozy. Pity I’ll be disturbing the peace with the macabre sounds of prey-kill.

Silently, I step down an escarpment and into the ferns. The trees open up slightly overhead — plenty of room for Kuro if she needs to make an emergency intervention. This is the place we’ll fight. With my head elevated above the ferns, I follow the drakon’s scent across the clearing. Turning past a fallen redwood, I expect to find the False-Kin lounging beside a fallen tree. Instead, all I find is a sunbeam shining against a flattened patch of ferns.

Confused, I lift my head slightly and taste the air. Then, I react like lightning.

The moon trembles as a Dragon impacts the ground at the place where I used to be crouching. Still reacting on instinct, I whip around to find a drakon roughly four wingspans away from me: clad in mottled green scales, his fangs bared in a baleful challenge. Large, membrane wings are splayed across the forest floor, blending in almost perfectly with the carpet of young ferns. It’s the False-Kin!!

Immediately, I identify the error in my judgment – as soon as he sensed my approach, the False-Kin marked his bedding and furtively scaled a tree to hide in the canopy. The ruse worked, and had I been less aware of my surroundings, I could have easily become prey-kill. But Kuro trained me well – I now understand False-Kin to be Dragons of the trees, ones who use them to their advantage. They may be inferior, but False-Kin certainly aren’t dumb.

But I’m far more clever than he is! I even used to be a Farlander! I flair my wings and issue a fierce challenge of my own.

SKREEEEEAK!!!

My cry echoes across the forest, and my thoughts begin to regress. I have learned to control the Gift of Regression, and I intend to retain only the faintest trace of rational thought. Responding to my challenge, the False-Kin pounds its wingspurs against the ground and rears its head to issue a cry of his own. But before it can, its head seizes. Without shifting my gaze for even a heartbeat, I watch the False-Kin’s eyes drift sideways – It’s noticed Kuro in the sky above us. Instantly, its face drops like a butchered spikehorn. Fear-scent, intoxicating in its aroma, emanates from the False-Kin like a Varecian rosebush in full bloom. It gazes at me, then back to Kuro. A warble of horror passes its fangs, and the False-Kin begins to panic.

My head tilts sideways. A False-Kin in distress? I suppose I’d be terrified as well if two huntresses from the Snowfell Flock were pursuing me. Eventually, the False-Kin settles down, and its gaze rests on me. It seems to have remembered I could attack at any moment. It opens its jaws, but what leaves its muzzle isn’t a roar.

“G’lorr redoga…!” the False-Kin speaks. “En tlorr laksha kiln kinka oh estra!”

What?!

The False-Kin spoke?! But how could that…!

With my mind reeling, I find myself flat-taloned as the False-Kin takes off charging at me! He crashes into me sideways, quickly aiming to take a bite from my lower thigh. I yowl in pain from his razor-sharp talons but manage to quickly toss the lighter Dragon to the ground before he can clamp on and do serious damage. He may have caught me napping, but I’m still stronger!

Hesitating, the False-Kin’s attention is drawn to purple blood streaming from a wound on my foreleg. Now it’s my turn! I erupt forward and manage to rake claws across his flank, drawing forth tattered scales and warm blood. He shrieks, fighting the pain to flee for the safety of a nearby cypress. When he reaches the side of an oshbush, he quickly scans the skies for signs of Kuro. I attempt to exploit his anxiety, but the False-Kin is simply too quick. He leaps backward and opens his wings for take-off, but this time, It’s me with the surprise! Anticipating his movements, I’ve already leaped into the air to cut him off halfway — a neat little trick that Kuro taught me! We crash into each other midair, the False-Kin at the bottom of a downbeat of his wings. As we tumble to the ground, I rake my claws against his back, causing him to roar in pain. Still, the False-Kin is quick — I whip my head forward to clamp onto his hindlegs and come up with nothing but air. Despite the wound to his back, the False-Kin has already retreated a safe distance. He lashes his tail in frustration and crouches low for another attack.

The fight continues for a time, back and forth with each of us scoring successful blows on the other. Just as Kuro predicted, the False-Kin has been attacking in a frantic, unpredictable way. Usually, he’ll approach like lightning, only to back off at the very last second. Sometimes, he’ll scale a trunk and bounce from tree to tree before dropping to the ground and finally lunging forward. He knows I can easily overwhelm him with my massive size, and to be clamped in my jaws would mean certain death. As we rise off the ground from another light tussle, light I find myself growing impatient. This is taking too long! Doesn’t this scalebrain realize if my life is in danger, then Kuro will come to my rescue? Why won’t he just roll over and die already?

Back in Varecia, Mom often taught me the importance of standing tall and acting decisively. If I want to come of age today, then I have to be as cunning as this False-Kin. I need to do something drastic!

Quickly, a plan forms in my head. Kuro told me before the fight this probably wouldn’t work, but I’m going to try it anyway. So far, me and the False-Kin have been confined to the ground where he has the advantage. I want to bring it to the sky where I have the advantage. Flying is my strength, and if I can lure him into a mid-air battle, then my victory will be quick and decisive. It’s a risk, but one I’m willing to take!

Rising from the ground, I cause my left hind leg to buckle suddenly. Snarling in pain, I exaggerate a painful limp and act like I’m regretting my decision to challenge this drakon. The False-Kin momentarily hesitates but makes no adjustments as he pounds his wings into the side of a fallen Redwood to scale it for another attack. I quickly glance and my leg, then at the False-Kin. I snarl in fury, unfurl my wings, and leap into the air. As quickly as I can, I rise through a clearing in the canopy without taking a second glance at my opponent.

My plan hinges on the False-Kin believing I’m a weakened, easy prey-kill. Will he take the bait? As I emerge into the sky, I see Kuro circling in a thermal above me. She takes notice of me and cries out.

ROOOARGH?

I stare at her but say nothing. I don’t want to announce that I’m not actually hurt. After watching me for a moment, Kuro takes the hint and flicks her tail in acknowledgment.

I soar over the forest, patiently waiting to see if the False-Kin reveals their scaled, green body. I enter into the same thermal as Kuro and circle around a few times, but still, the False-Kin is nowhere to be found. Ugh, where could he be? Is he really going to let an easy prey-kill escape?

Frustrated, I growl and tip my wings to return to the forest. I sail through the same clearing I departed from, careful not clip the branches with my—

WHUMP!!

Something impacts me from the side, disrupting my flight and causing me to spiral out of control. I squeal in pain and feel the world spiral around me. Hot pain lances my side, and through the twisting, I catch glimpses of green and brown close to my body. It’s the False-Kin! It ambushed me from the trees!

The moon shudders as we impact the ground at an angle, ejecting a cloud of dirt and detritus across the forest floor. As I reel in pain, the False-Kin wastes no time tearing into my flank like a wounded spikehorn. Argh, this is bad! I have to get him off me! Summoning every ounce of strength available, I toss the scaled Dragon to the side, adding a quick swipe of my claws with an available foretalon. As he stumbles from his own injuries, I rise on unsteady talons and snarl in frustration.

In retrospect, it’s plain to see why he didn’t chase me into the sky — Kuro is up there! Of course he stayed on the ground! Argh, I can’t believe I allowed myself to be bested by such an inferior Dragon! I knew I needed to stay a feather’s edge above a full regression, but it’s clear that wasn’t enough. I’m making dumb mistakes, and now it’s cost me dearly!

If I want to hear my mourn echo across the forest, then I have to focus. The False-Kin is rising to his talons and seems to have a second wind of energy. He bounces on his wings and snarls back at me, ready for a second round of attacks. I drew a breath and flinch, feeling overwhelming pain from the side where the drakon attacked me. Can I really fight back against him in this state? What am I going to do?

I rear back on my talons and prepare for what comes next. But before I can react, a shadow draws over the forest.

The False-Kin’s ears perk, sensing the change in light. His gaze draws skyward, and his fear-scent returns. They turn tail and attempt to flee to the safety of a denser section of forest, but it’s far too late. Leaves explode like confetti as Kuro slices through the forest canopy and effortlessly swoops onto the False-Kin.

ROOARR!!

She latches her foretalons onto his back and carries him a short distance like she would any common prey-animal. With a flick of her tail, she drops to the ground and wrenches the scaled drakon’s body against the side of the felled cypress. A sharp crack echoes across the forest, and the drakon whines a meager, half-hearted yelp. His eyes roll backward, and the life from his body extinguishes. Once her talons plant the ground, Kuro lunges for the False-Kin’s neck to finish the prey-kill.

“KURO!!” I snarl, my mind still reacting on impulse. Why did she swoop down and kill him?! The fight wasn’t over yet!! Now I can’t come of age!!

Kuro whips her head around, fresh blood staining her muzzle. A hushed fury still resides in her eyes from the adrenaline of a successful prey-kill. She snarls back at me, baring fangs and flaring wings wide across the forest. For a tense moment, we stare at each other with hackles raised and muscles tensed, but the aggression quickly subsides. Even among mates, the baleful energy of a hunt is difficult to extinguish.

Kuro grunts and lowers her wings to de-escalate the situation. "I can’t allow you to get hurt today. We’re flying to the Farlands tomorrow; you need your strength for the flight.”

Unbidden, a low growl reverberates through my chest. But, I could have killed him!! I growl again and shake my head about, trying to dislodge the energy of the hunt. Kuro is absolutely right, of course; There’s no place to land in the strait between Felra and the Farlands. If I grew tired from my injuries during the flight, I would die.

I force myself to meet Kuro’s gaze — I sense the empathy in her eyes and her delightful spiced scent drifting towards me on the wind. Slowly, drawing deep breaths, I subdue the regression and allow my rational mind to reassert itself.

“…Skunkscent,” I rumble. My tail flicks through the ferns behind me. “I was so close. I made one bad decision…”

“You’ll have plenty more opportunities,” Kuro says, folding her wings. “By this time next season, you’ll be able to tell your Mother you’ve come of age. I promise.”

I can’t help but smile at Kuro’s optimism. With enough of her training, surely I could be just as fierce in battle as she is.

“Alright,” I say, drawing down my wings. “Next time. That’s when you’ll hear my knell.”

Kuro returns the smile and chitters lightly to herself, making my heart melt for her all over again. She’s so important to me. If for nobody else, I’ll do it for her — The next time I encounter one of these miserable scaled Dragons in battle, I will come of age. I will make my mate proud of me.

“Come on,” Kuro says, flicking her snout. “Let’s butcher him and get out of here.”

I tip my wings to acknowledge and join Kuro by the side of the False-Kin. As she licks her chops clean of blood, I gaze across the body of my opponent, cold and motionless. This drakon was awfully foolish. Why did he bother resisting? Didn’t he understand his life was forfeit as soon as I challenged him? Thinking back to how our fight began, I can’t recall with certainty any of the words he spoke to me. They were like a foreign language, though I could understand the intonation of his voice. He sounded defiant, almost like he…

My body freezes, and a profound realization crosses my mind, leaving me stunned.

“Kuro,” I interrupt.

Her head seizes a talon-width above the drakon’s flank, a heartbeat away from tearing him to pieces. She shuts her jaws and asks, “What is it?”

I ruffle slightly, and my gaze falls onto the False-Kin’s face. “Earlier, before we started fighting… he spoke to me. Not with feral noises, but words.”

I wasn’t going to tell Kuro about what he said to me because I didn’t think it was important. But I was wrong. This is terribly important.

Kuro’s expression softens a little. She stares pensively at the False-Kin and says, “Sometimes they speak nonsense, but nobody can understand them. I just ignore them when that happens.”

“Really?” I ask in surprise. They’ve spoken to Kin before?!

Kuro stares at me, unconvinced of my concern.

I tilt my head closer. “Can’t you see? They’re intelligent!”

An amused smile grows across Kuro’s muzzle. She thinks I’m biting her tail!

“it isn’t nonsense!!” I object, curling my talons into the ground. “Kuro, they’re speaking a different language! They possess the Gift of Speech just like we do!”

“So?” Kuro asks, tilting back to rest on her haunches. “Who cares if they speak a different language? Prey is prey.”

I wince slightly, struck by how quickly she brushed the idea aside. “Yeah, but…” my gaze is drawn to the anguished expression of the drakon. “It means False-Kin have spoken to Azurrel. Maybe… they even have their own deity.”

Possessing the Gift of Speech implies that False-Kin spoke to Azurrel in ancient times, perhaps at the same time Lithans received their Gift of Speech. And every species on Jade that received a Gift from Azurrel has their own deity to represent themselves before the God of Creation. Kin have Keuvra, and Lemurs have the Goddess, Etain. It follows that False-Kin would have a deity as well, right? If I’m correct, then this is a moon-shattering revelation: A sixth deity, completely unknown to anyone until right now!! Could such a thing truly be possible?

It would go against everything I’ve ever been taught about the deities, though my education has been wrong before. When I was a Kit, the church taught us there were four deities, one for each species. The existence of Keuvra was speculated by scholars, but never confirmed by The Four or those they communed with. Clearly, there was a fifth deity all along, and it was for Kin. So why has Keuvra’s existence been withheld for centuries? Could the deities be withholding similar truths about False-Kin?

Kuro’s face moderates, and her tail sways across the ferns behind her. “I hadn’t considered that before,” she rumbles thoughtfully. “But Keuvra teaches us False-Kin are inferior Dragons, ones meant for Kin to prey upon. I’m not going to second-guess the teachings of our leader.”

Her response moves me to an uncomfortable silence. Obviously, I don’t want to go against Keuvra, either. But what does all of this amount to? The False-Kin I fought was cunning and clever, not some witless prey-animal. He spoke to me just as any Lithan or Lemur would. The deities may have my interests in mind, but… I don’t know. This doesn’t sit well with me.

A warm breeze passes through the trees. Perhaps sensing my dissonance, Kuro rolls her wings and says, “I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” She rises to her talons and continues, “Even if they could speak, False-Kin will always be inferior. That’s just the way things are.”

I watch in silence as Kuro struts past me and uses her jaws to tear open the drakon’s flank. Perhaps she’s right… it’s not like we can understand the False-Kin language. If the deities don’t want us to communicate with them, then who am I to disagree? Keuvra is my leader, and he’s always had my interests in mind. I’m not going to go against him for something as inconsequential as one dead False-Kin.

Strange thoughts stew in my head as I join Kuro in gorging on our prey.