CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of genocide

To some, wings reaching across the starry night sky would’ve meant freedom. To Peponi, they usually meant a flight for her life, and tonight was no different. As much as she wished she could enjoy the feeling of the wind rippling across her sails and lifting her along under her wings, she had places to be. In front of her, Aviator was powering himself forward on his impressive wingspan – a SkyWing trait she found herself envying as she focused on keeping up with him. Kelpie was off to her left, probably having the same problem, although she didn’t bother to look. Tonight consisted of a life-or-death time crunch, and there was no time to slow down.

“I can’t fucking believe our informants didn’t tell us this shit three days ago!” Kelpie snapped to nobody in particular, beating her wings extra hard thanks to her frustration. “What is wrong with them?!”

“It’s a show of incompetence, I agree,” Aviator replied from up front, keeping his eyes focused on the horizon, “But I think they were doing the best they could. They have their own lives and families, too, and they really went the extra mile getting us the exact date of the first sweep. If we move quickly, we can use our remaining time to gather as many dens together as possible and recruit them to the rebellion.”

“What, and their silly purebred lives are more important than ours?!”

Peponi gritted her teeth at the challenge in Kelpie’s tone. Although she was absolutely in agreement that the complete failure to quickly get them the news of the approved genocide that hung over them all was cause for rage, she couldn’t exactly get behind condescending the lives of purebreds in front of one of their purebred allies. She knew Aviator was already feeling a tremendous amount of guilt and fear, and she couldn’t blame him for not completely understanding how she and the other hybrids felt. It frustrated her to absolutely no end – and she had every right to feel that way – but she knew he cared, and his support for them was absolute. Just an hour ago, they’d been told the news of the bill and given a written scroll with all the information their above-ground allies had gathered for them, and there was absolutely no denying the way Aviator’s expression had dropped into one of pure horror. Nothing in the world could elicit that level of terror in a dragon as level-headed as Aviator, save for the sudden realization that his wingless daughter’s life was in grave danger.

“Now’s not the time to fight,” she stated before either of her companions could say anything else. “You can talk about this later, after we get back to base and tell Smaug what we’ve found out. We can’t afford to slow down.”

Kelpie only huffed, but other than a muttered “Sorry,” from Aviator, nobody else spoke another word. The streets passed under the trio, the ground speckled with the lights of homes below, flickering out as dragons called it a night district by district. They were headed towards the outskirts, to the entrance of the tunnels their resistance called home. As the largest den of hybrids in the kingdom, they tended to live their lives underground in the old passageways that had once been used for storage when the sprawling cityscape was still under construction. Peponi had always found the subterranean life to be a source of mild discomfort, but tonight she was starting to understand why it was so important. In a world where hybrids had always been a controversial topic, something as brutal as this had been bound to happen eventually, and the tunnels were the safest place to hide.

Her stomach churned with dread for the smaller dens comprised of little neighborhoods where hybrid families formed their own communities. The knowledge that those little pockets would no longer be safe for them in just two days was enough to make her scales flicker with dull streaks of anger, stress, sadness, and preemptive terror.

… She couldn’t fly straight thinking about it.

She probably wouldn’t be able to sleep, either.

Passing over the most LeafWing-heavy district, with its expansive gardens and houses that were practically part of the foliage, Peponi steeled herself for what was about to come next. As Aviator tucked his wings into a dive, she mimicked his movements, allowing herself to plummet towards the ground before catching herself with a few powerful flaps, talons outstretched for a smooth landing. The familiar cobblestone was a strange mixture of smooth and rough beneath her feet, cool moss brushing against her scales and squishing against her talons. In any other world, perhaps she’d pause to truly feel it… but that was a luxury no longer afforded to dragons like her.

Kelpie shifted to the front of the group, and Peponi could see her clench and unclench her jaw, silently folding her wings. It was difficult to see in the dark, even with one of the moons hanging full above them, but Peponi could’ve sworn the other hybrid was crying. A dark color – maybe guilt purple or distress green – crept along the very edges of her gills.

“Come on,” the SeaWing hybrid declared after a moment, voice cutting through the night like a cautious knife. She glanced back at Peponi and Aviator, then cast her eyes forward, lighting the bioluminescent marks at the very tip of her tail in her signature coral pink. She didn’t wait, didn’t speak another word, just began to walk forward. Peponi watched her disappear into the foliage, followed by Aviator, and braced herself to bring up the rear.

Above her, the last star winked out, and the darkness swallowed her whole.

---

Many heads turned to gaze upon the trio as they returned, and Peponi was slightly reassured to see several pairs of familiar eyes glancing over at her and her companions as she reached the bottom of the stairwell. These were her neighbors. Her friends. Her classmates and her acquaintances and even her rivals. These were her people, and they were still safe and sound, just like they’d been when she left.

“Urchin!” Kelpie called into the darkness, blue tail swishing impatiently. Here in the lamplight from the flamesilk globes above, Peponi could finally see the other RainWing hybrid in detail, flashing her SeaWing spots in patterns Peponi had always assumed were meant to self-soothe. A few dragonets scampered past, laughing and playing a game of chase, oblivious to the weight of the world outside.

A purple-and-yellow figure emerged from a tunnel, shaking his wings as he stepped towards Kelpie. Urchin’s familiar, keen golden eyes flicked over her, then took into account the presence of Aviator and Peponi. “You look… complicated,” he observed, choosing his words with care. “How’d it go?”

Kelpie huffed. “Our informants took three whole days to give us news that could change everything. Where’s Smaug? We need to see him immediately.”

Urchin furrowed his brow, RainWing frills drooping as the mood of the implication began to settle over him. “This way,” he replied without any hesitation, already turning down another one of the passageways. “He’s been waiting in the meeting room since you left. Said he had a bad gut feeling.”

Well then. The old man’s intuition strikes again.

When she was still a kid, Peponi had often wondered if Smaug had a little bit of NightWing blood in him, but now that she was an adult, she recognized it as nothing more than freakishly good intuition. The Sky-Ice hybrid was situated at one of the meeting room tables, shuffling through some papers – probably from the communal suggestion box, where anyone could write down a suggestion for improvement of the resistance lifestyle or report an issue and hear back in as soon as a day. Smaug checked that thing religiously. When the trio of weary messengers entered the room, however, he straightened up to full attention.

“You’re back.”

Their leader’s voice was a rumbling yet tentative sound, indicative of its owner’s hunch about the news that was going to be broken to him. Beside her, Peponi could feel Aviator shifting his wings, tucking them closer to his body. Trying to make himself smaller, less obtrusive.

She found her frills subconsciously doing the same.

“Sir,” Kelpie began as the older hybrid’s eyes scanned the three, taking in their expressions and posture, “We have news from our informants.”

Dead silence. Even Urchin, who had been standing a little ways behind Peponi to let them have their privacy, went completely still. Every heartbeat felt excruciating, every breath was bated, and nobody dared to so much as blink. Peponi stood frozen to her spot, mouth dry and eyes fixed on Kelpie, waiting for the other talon to drop.

“They’re going to kill us, Sir. We have two days, and then they’ll start taking out the dens, one by one.”

The pain in Kelpie’s voice sent a pang through Peponi’s chest, but she made no movement to offer comfort. Right now, it just felt wrong to – especially when Smaug was obviously deep in thought about the information. She just stood there, slowly casting her gaze to the floor as the dull green of her wings and sails was finally taken over by the greys of deep, desolate sadness.

When Smaug spoke, it was the tolling of a funeral bell.

“Urchin, call a meeting.”