He awoke. Alone. Where was Pristine? She should be here watching the lair, or at least, watching their nest of five. The eggs would get cold if she did not return soon!
He sniffed the air, trying to determine her location, but couldn't pick up the scent. She was gone. No footprints, no scent trail. Gone. How long had he been asleep? It can't have been long enough for her to disappear without a trace. He would look for her. Yes! That was it! A search! But...the eggs. They would die if he left them with nothing to keep them warm or keep them from being eaten or stolen. He sighed, resigned himself to waiting, and curled himself around his nest.
Days later they crackled, mewing sounds coming from inside. He backed away, giving them space to work their ways out of their shells. Five little guardian hatchlings wobbled around their earthen nest. Now. Now he could find Pristine.
He flew, the younglings upon his back, to his sister's clan, and told her of Pristine's absence. His sister volunteered to watch his hatchlings until he found her, or until they grew up. She knew how much Pristine meant to him.
He wandered. He checked the other local Earth clans, describing his mate to anyone he could find. No one had seen her, heard of her even. Days, weeks passed, and no luck. He continued to wander.
His last hope. The Archanist. The one who knows all, sees all, and catalogs it into a nice convenient bundle. He would know where she was! He flew to the observatory on the Arcanian Isles, and asked the first servant he came upon where he could find information on dragon whereabouts. The servant, however, confided to Thunderclap, that, in fact, the Archanist does not track dragon whereabouts on the continent, he cares not for worldly matters, and that his answer would not be found her.
Thunderclap roared. Pristine could not be found. He would have to let her go, after all this time. He took his time to grieve. He wandered the island, watched the stars, glittering above with no lights to hide them from view, and lost himself in thought.
Months later, he wandered the Star Wood Strand, enjoying, despite his losses in life, that the sparkle in those trees was one of the most precious things on this planet. So lost in thought, if fact, that he almost stepped right into an Arcane nest. Luckily Arcane eggs float, or there would have been an even unhappier mother. Freya hissed at Thunderclap, and whistled shrilly. Rubin appeared, roaring loudly at the intruder, as the rest of the clan tore out of the bushes, hissing and growling. All but one.
A little Fae hatchling, of black and lavender, with golden cracks of color running over her scales, hovered at the back, tilting her head curiously. She looked at him with such knowing in her eyes, like her mind was that of an ancient, and that she had seen much. She flew at him quickly like a hummingbird over the rest of her clan, and stared him right in the face, just inches from his nose. She smiled, whistled to her clan cheerfully, and flew onto his head. He shook, chuckling, as the rest of her clan backed down.
This Fae, she had gotten to him. He would ask permission to stay, to protect the little one. Freya, she seemed the oldest here. "May I stay here, with you, with this little one?" he asked her, politely and politically. "If she wishes you to stay, you may, but you will harm no one here, you will not bring us into your battles of your mind and past, and you will protect her, Royalle, our Heir Apparent. She.." Freya inclined her head toward the little golden crackled Fae, "has the Starlink. She is not of my blood, but she is my heir, and the only one left who can bond with this land, other than myself. If she is lost, this land will be thrown into turmoil, and none of us will be safe."
Thunderclap gave his bond, his word, then, to Freya, that he would guard Royalle to the end of his days. She would never be completely out from under his eye at any time, for if she fell, they all did. Until she produced an Heir of her own, or many, the land would never be completely safe, and his job would never be completely finished.
Rubin could now relax. His age was slowly creeping up on him, and he could no longer guard both Freya and Royalle alone. His full attention now could be focused on his mate, and her protection, so she could live long enough to teach Royalle everything she needed to know as Clan Heir.
Thus, Thunderclap became the General of the Amalthean Clan, Protector of Royalle, and all her Progeny.
