Ddraig was glad she wasn’t the rare sort of dragon who was gifted with a head full of hair. After all she’d been through in the past few weeks, Ddraig was sure said blessing would have been well and truly revoked by now. It felt like an eternity had passed as she'd waited in the hospital by the incubator, watching practically every move her frail hatchling inside had made, and doing everything she could to ensure that little Taelen wasn't in pain or in any danger. Every now and then he had let out a whimper or a squeal, or curled up on himself in the corner of the plastic as he tried to get as close to her as possible, and each time it had been a fresh stab to her heart. She had had to remind herself, constantly, that Taelen was in the best possible place. Of that she was sure. Avalaria’s hospital was the best in the Empire, and had access to some of the best medicine and medical technology the 22nd century could offer…and yet it all felt so sterile. It was supposed to be, but, despite

An aged yellow Dragoness sits in a rather comfy den, walls lined by bookshelves containing many heirlooms, books, and framed pictures. She laid on a large couch designed for dragons her size, and across from her sat a dark green Savrakon, the bipedal dragon held a tablet, ready to begin typing. “Alright Mrs. Hier, we can begin any time, we can start somewhere simple, how about your father?” He said looking up to her with interest. Voltlyn Hier, the Savrakon's subject, looked up to the largest picture on the wall, a hand painted family portrait of her family, as well as her and her brother's respective spouses, and smiled, “My father, where to even start…” ____________________________________ Like with most other little girls of the time, my father was both the cause, and the solution, to so many things back then. If I so much as looked like I might be sad, he was right there to comfort me. Mother always thought he was coddling me, but he always was a staunch supporter of