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Memories of the Voiceless - DreamThis parchment smells freshMemories of the Voiceless - Dream by dociledragon
I got up. It was the middle of the night. I walked to the entrance of my lair where light was streaming in from the full moon outside. The bright stars seemed to swim in the blue black night sky. It wasn’t as foggy as usual. I walked steadily through the shadows of the other dragons’ lairs using my sense of touch to guide each foot fall. No one was about.
The bonfire at the center of the lair area was quiet, but even this late it was tended. I shunned its light; not because I hated it, but because I feared it. In its light people always gathered. I shivered at the thought of a crowd. I kept an eye on the bonfire to help me track my movement, but I didn’t get to close to that hot penetrating eye of a flame.
After some wondering I ended up on counsel hill. Angela was sitting overlooking the path in and out of the clan land. I was surprised she was here so late. I rubbed my eyes with my front paw, something about her made them hurt. It was as
Memories of the Voiceless - BarakThis parchment smells like clayMemories of the Voiceless - Barak by dociledragon
I practiced my writing on the sand floor of the den. I always practiced it every day so that I would not forget it. I stopped for a moment and looked up at the ceiling for a moment.
It was covered with intricate patterns. Smiling I remember once again that dear Barak had made those patterns. Over time he had carved the clay from the walls and ceiling forming intricate patterns. Now that he was done with the ceiling he had coved the floor with sand which he made patterns in every night, but he didn’t mind it when I accidentally stepped on it. In truth it was always getting stepped on, so we drew new patterns all the time. It was so fun.
Dear Barak hadn’t minded when I joined him in making patterns on the floor. Indeed he had welcomed it. He always understood me so well, even in silence. I had started teaching him his letters by writing them in the sand. He was now arranging them in pretty nonsense words, but in time he would learn. Maybe then
Memories of the Voiceless Koray and IlonaThis scroll smell faintly of oil and PlantsMemories of the Voiceless Koray and Ilona by dociledragon
“Daisy,” Koray yelled. I turned. Koray’s head fins were widened in a helpless manner. “Look,” Koray continued, “I know you’re there. You may be avoiding me, but it wouldn’t work. Others can’t hear your soft footfalls or see you in the shadows, but I can.” He paused, “Come here” he said in the most commanding voice his monotone could muster. I took a few steps towards him the stench of oil filled my nostrils. It sent a chill down my spine. I edged away from him.
“Look, I know you’re not one to hold grudges. As I’ve said what I did was wrong” he said, “You are happy with Barak now aren’t you?” I looked at him inquisitively. He returned the confused look, “You seem to forget, but you never quite forget.”
He returned to his commanding voice, “I’m hurt. Get Ilona.” I looked backwards. “Go,” He
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