Petrified Winds

Morana knows what suffering feels like. Being hatched alone, surrounded by nothing but all encompassing cold must have...done something to her. She wandered among the icecaps of the Southern Icefield for most of her young life, catching what meager prey managed to be weaker than her. Being so young, she never knew that she was supposed to have parents or a clan to go back to. She simply knew the the snow, the ice, the cold she always felt.

As she grew, she built her strength, hunting stronger prey and taking it down with less struggle. She found herself loving the thrill of the hunt and finding it a respite from the lonely life she led. She began to adorn herself with the trophies of her slayed prey, not only a trophy of each catch, but a way of honoring the creatures that gave their lives so she could keep living hers. After so long, she began to look more like a skeleton than a dragon, but she didn’t mind. For all she knew, all other dragons looked like her. After all, she’d never seen another before.

After discovering a semi-plentiful hunting ground, she settled in a shallow cave, intending to remain there for max a few days while she took advantage of the easy to attain food. But it changed when a young dragon stumbled into the cave while she was resting, shivering and looking about ready to die. He begged her for help, but she hardly understood him, being unexposed to Draconic as a hatchling. She was too confused to complain as he began to ravenously eat some of her latest catch. After a few moments, she understood what he needed, and draped one of her cloaks over his shaking form.

The dragon stayed with Morana for a few days, and she happily nursed him back to health, while he taught her the basics of Draconic. By the time he was healed, Morana could form a few simple sentences, and was on the way to becoming fluent. The dragon left, but not before telling Morana he’d be back, and with friends. Morana, excited to meet more dragons, stayed in the cave and prepared for more guests. But when the dragon returned with his companions, Morana realized that her little cave would not house all seven of them, herself included.

Morana and the dragons took advantage of the blank slate land they had and started building a clan, with Morana at the forefront. As they developed the land more, they found more and more dragons with nowhere else to go coming to her, hoping for a home. Morana took all of them in, and happily she did so. When her clan was around thirty dragons in size,she heard others referring to her as ‘the savior of the Icefield.’ Morana found herself quite fond of the title, and began to go by it instead of her real name.

As her clan grew and grew, so did Morana's ego. She would strut around the lair, soaking up praise from her clan and doing little to return the favor. The wool over her eyes became so thick that she began to see herself as a god, a dragon with the same power as the deities. Her clan mates were hard pressed to not notice her self-inflation, and even harder pressed to not be concerned about it. Most took to leaving her alone, remaining in their homes so Morana wouldn’t get up in their faces, reminding them to be humble.