Dartwing shivered. Had she imagined being claimed by a massive dragon called Windshadow? If it had truly happened, surely he would still be there. But she was alone. After a few more minutes of questioning herself, she shook her head. Whether it had happened or not, clearly it would have no consequence. If a male wanted to claim her as his mate, he wouldn’t have left her alone. He would have brought her to his cave or waited until she awoke.
Deciding to act as though nothing had happened, Dartwing grabbed the prey she had killed and brought it to the cave with Bluefire and Spark. The dragonesses were relying upon her to feed them and their rapidly growing family. Young Ember was shooting up in height and size quickly, and would soon be able to help with the hunting; hatchlings often learned to hunt before they were good at speaking.
Back in his own cave, Windshadow debated what to do about the latest dragoness he had claimed. He was a serial mate, mounting all unclaimed females he could find. Only the finest, however, would he allow to join his harem. He was uncertain of whether Dartwing met that standard. She was too small to produce many hatchlings, but had a fire in her that intrigued him. Not to mention, she was comely in a rare way. Attractive dragonesses were usually sexy. Dartwing was cute.
Windshadow rolled his eyes and curled up on his pile of gold to sleep. He would decide in the morning. Perhaps he could even visit an old friend to ask for advice.