Canon short story contest entry
Chosen character: Hawker - The HiveWing guard who checks the IDs of silkwings passing through Cicada hive.
A dragon stood at the point where woven silk faded into tawny wood. He held his chest slightly puffed, wings neatly folded, and his chin raised a little so he could look threatening and full of authority. Everything a HiveWing needed to rule the second class citizens.
So why was it so difficult?
Something nudged his feet, and he realised there was a small peach colored dragonet waiting for his permission.
“Uh… your free to go,” Hawker shook his head at the passageway.
The silkwing tilted his head. Hawker could imagine all the things going through their mind. Why hasn’t he asked for my name? Why hasn’t he recorded my ID onto the CCPA, Cicada Citizens Pass Archives? Why does he look so… lost?
The wingless dragon ducked their head to adjust the woven silk strap, dyed orange and yellow, connecting to a leather book bag hung around his neck. Quickly he hurried off, their talons loudly tapping against the wood pulp.
Hawker let out a deep breath, risking a moment to momentarily lose that pose of authority. He studied his claws, caked with wood dust and sticky silk. He rose another talon to attempt to pick it off, to no avail. Hawker quickly snapped back to an intimidating position as soon as he heard voices nearing him.
A pale green dragoness bounded over to the checkpoint, chatting with the slow anxious blue dragonet in a happy, shrill voice, as if everything would be okay and all worries would disappear. Their voices suddenly cut off, knowing their were in earshot of them.
And he remembered. Remembered her.
A flood of emotions came through as memories overrided his mind, like a swarm of bees descending on him, sweet of honey yet bearing the pain of a thousand stings.
He bit his forked tongue as hard as he could, trying not to cry or laugh or do anything even more stupid then he has already done.
You're a guard, he thought with all of his might. A scary, uninterested HiveWing soldier who couldn’t care less with annoying little dragonets.
“Names?” He asked, trying his best to sound bored, instead sounding shaky or desperate. He knew their names, or well, he definitely knew the green ones name of by heart. Luna, as she was called. Like the moons lighting up the night sky covered in a web of stars, fighting off the darkness.
“Blue,” Said the blue one, quite accurately named. He held out and turned over his arm, showing the markings on his wrist that have been painfully carved into the soft inside of their talons when they were newly born. Hawker extended his neck to examine the three letters, a B, then a smaller B and an A. He let out a muffled grunt, attempting to make sure the wingless dragonet won’t look too carefully at his claws because his nails were still full of dirt and strands of webs. He picked up his other talon, squinting carefully at the words inscribed to the band of copper.
“And I’m Luna,” Hawker didn’t need her to tell her that, but it was part of proper pratices. Her right palm was in a similar manner to the dark blue ones, or just all silkwings in general. An L, an S, and a A.
He raised his pen to to record their passes when he realised there was an “M” Next to her name. He inhaled quietly, his underbelly brushing against the smooth side of his breastplate. That meant she was going through her metamorphosis today. He flickered his gaze to her wrists, glowing slightly.
Not only that, but that meant this might be the last time he would get to see her. It was like losing the last remnants of his previous memories.
If the rumors were true, than this dragon was a flamesilk. Hawker has heard little about them, until a message sweeped through the guards that a pale green female silkwing would be going through metamorphosis today and all guards should be on high alert.
“Uhh, metamorphosis today,” Hawker grumbled like always. “Hmm, good luck,” It was improper to say that to the second class citizens, but he would rather give a small sentence then to regret it for his entire life. Like what happened to Spindrift.
Spindrift. Such a perfect name for a perfect dragon. He remembered her green and teal scales catching the sun, darting reflections over the room. He remembered going to school together with her, to the last bi-tribal school that ever existed before Queen Wasp banned them forever. He remembered her perfect nature, independent and brave. She wanted to be a heroine, the first SilkWing guard in a century, inspiring silkwings to be as bold as HiveWings. He remembered when they were four, two naive souls during electives choosing. He sat right next to her, tails entwined as they wrote down their choices. If it wasn’t for her, Hawker would have chosen advanced science over guard duty. He chose it for her, so he could be with her. He remembered her sending a three page essay to the queen to allow her to be a loyal soldier. He often thought what would happen if Spindrift didn’t exist, he might be squinting at bugs in a laboratory with a pair of glasses instead of recording the IDS of the thousands of citizens that passed through each day. He remembered when she laughed at his thick spectacles, saying that he would look so much more handsome without them, which made him get contacts. He remembered him watching patiently as she went through her metamorphosis, and when she did come out, three moons she was the most beautiful dragon on Pantala, with regal aqua wings lined with mint green and gold. He remembered confessing his love for her, just to realise that she knew all along. He remembered her accepting him, them flying side by side, brushing his dark bug like wings together with her stunning butterfly ones.
And she was a SILKWING. Obviously the queen wouldn’t approve. But they thought they could get away with it.
He remembered sitting in a corner together with Spindrift, along with a secret silkwing organization that Spindrift was apart of, called the Crystalis. They usually hated HiveWings, and it took some classification for them to accept him, but Spindrift told them about their story, and they agreed to help. They sat in a dark room barely lit by a strand of flamesilk, scrawled over a map and a plan for them to escape to one of the islands off the coast of Pantala. He remembered setting out at night, ready to fight through the HiveWings on patrol.
And he remembered. Flapping crazily away from the shouting soldiers laughing as the wind whistled in their ears.
They dove into one of their secret hideouts, where no one could find them. They were safe here, where they could wait until the guards passed.
Then, he began to feel dizzy, his eyes shifted white, and he wasn’t himself anymore.
And when he was given control again, he was back in the Hives, Wasp hive to be exact, and Spindrift was gone. The love of his life has slipped through his talons like attempting to hold water.
“Hawker!” A familiar voice yelled. Someone snapped their fingers to wake him up, pulling him out of his deep abyss of memories. Drowsily he regained his senses.
“Goldenrod,” He mumbled, pressing his claws to his temples. How long has he have deep in thought? Falling asleep on the job? He could imagine a trip to misbehaviours way, a stern mouthful from his overseer, and no pay brought home to support his family for that week.
He still felt as terrible as ever. Now, with no stimulant to remind him of Spindrift, he couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Perhaps he wouldn’t be as depressed, but he would still like to keep her in his heart.
“Hey, uh Goldenrod, I’ll take a break for a bit. Get some fresh air that doesn’t smell like sugar and silkwings,” Goldenrod let a nod of approval, and he lifted off.
He descended through the many levels of the Hive and paused at an intentional knob and twisted it. A crack opened up slightly, which turned out to be a door, and a velvet red snout poked out, hissing.
“The seeds will grow again,” He whispered to the Silkwing, shrouded in the darkness. The door opened all the way and the SilkWing suddenly screamed. “Hivewing!” They reformed back into an aggressive stance. “Tell me your business, and why you know the password, or we will bind you in silk and do this the hard way.” She flexed her talons.
He bowed. “Previously, my girlfriend was allied with your movement,” The eye ridge raise of the Silkwing told him that she was guessing that his girlfriend must have been a silkwing, therefore, not much of a rule follower.
“Do you know anything about Spindrift?” He asked hurriedly.
The Silkwing invited him inside, and he saw a silver chestplate hung on the wall. He came closer, brushing the armor. This was Spindrift’s chestplate, and now it is being used like she hoped, a symbol for silkwing empowerment.
“For you,” The silkwing poked him, handing him a silver pendant with a piece of cyan stained glass trapped inside. His gift for her 8th birthday. Her last birthday.
He held the necklace gently in his talons like a newborn cat, fragile between his claws. He held it to his chest, his heart, and let a tear fall onto the smooth surface of glass, slipping into the metal case. The chain was cool between his claws.
Spindrift, I hope that you will be the heroine you want to be in the afterlife, perhaps a royal guard of Clearsight, fighting of evil like she did.
I love you, I miss you, and I send my greatest wishes towards your happiness.
Thank you for shaping me from the timid anxious nerd to the brave guard I am today, my love.