Thwack. Thwack. Thud.

Thwack-thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

Thwack. Thud.

Crack... BOOOOOOOOOM.

Lightning flashes across the seaside desert. A nearby saguaro cactus shakes. A clay pot falls off a rusty chest and breaks upon the rock below, spilling out gravel. A cloud of burning red feathers settles among the tattered, smoldering remnants of canvas. Smoke fills the air.

Storm, a small, dark blue fae dragon, glides over and looks down at the burning scraps. Tiny sparks briefly sizzle over the light blue gems that cover his hide. Even after the sparks are gone, the gems sparkle in the late morning sun.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Thud.

Without pause, Silt, Storm's darkly-colored fae dragon sister, continues peppering her other brother, Eíith, with many blows. Being a guardian dragon, Eíith is much larger than his fae siblings. Metallic scales of silver and gold cover his hide. He moves his arms and tail to intercept each of his sister's strokes, taking a number of scratches. Not once does he flinch.

Thwack. Thwack.

"Yee-agggg," Storm screams.

"What's wrong, brother? You hit the the target." Silt pauses and looks at Storm.

"I'm tired of incinerating canvas dummies. I want a live opponent. I want a challenge." Storm's gaze remains fixed downward.

"The Coliseum is closed for the week. We need to-"

"It's not fair! This is supposed to be our week." Storm kicks at the charred remnants of the dummy. Specks of ash float away in the breeze.

"Our week?" His sister asks.

"Yeah," says Storm. "We were going to win first place this week. This was our week."

"Not likely, brother. We placed fifth last week and we were lucky to get that."

"Lucky? Lucky?" Storm flaps his wings indignantly. "We're the highest ranked clan in the entire Shifting Expanse."

"For one week. Among those clans that actually bothered to participate. And in case you forgot, we got our tails handed to us on the last day."

"Don't remind me." Storm snorts and fidgets, his head fins bristling. Silt ignores his interruption and continues.

"Our clan only placed fifth because our parents won a few more times after receiving some favorable pairings. Moving up through the next four ranks will be far more difficult than the last six. We'll be doing quite well just to attain fifth place again."

Storm has had enough. He perches on the chest and breathes in deeply, stretching out his delicate, speckled wings.

"Talking like that, it sounds to me as if you've already lost. Is fifth place all that you can imagine? Where is your vision, my dear Silt? Where is your pride? We are capable of winning. Winning everything, not just a match here and a match there. Have you lost all faith in yourself?"

Silt rolls her eyes.

"We might do better if we practiced more, brother. But maybe all you care about is seeing your name on a leader board. Maybe all you want out of life is attention and a pile of trophies. Some of us are trying to improve ourselves. Some of us are more interested in becoming the very best that we can be."

"What attention?" Storm asks. "We are the greatest lightning clan in the coliseum and yet not one female has come looking for me. Not one!"

"Are you even listening to me, brother?"

"Of course I'm listening. I just find it a bit much that you're questioning my dedication. Perhaps we would have done better last week if you weren't spending half your days off on trysts with Jade."

A bright cyan rage fills Silt's eyes. Without a word, she brings her wings around and flashes through the air. Before Storm can react, Silt is upon him, claws out, raking his hide. They both fall into the sand.

"Gaahhh! Get off of me, Silt!" he screams and struggles, but his sister does not let up. She tears at him relentlessly. Finally, he pulls his arms free and manages enough concentration to let loose a magical concussive force into her body, sending her flying toward an outcropping of hard, jagged rock. Eíith steps forward and stretches forth a wing, absorbing her impact. She falls to the ground at his feet.

"Why did you help her and not me?" Storm glares at his brother.

"Because you deserved it." Eíith wraps his wing around Silt and helps her up.

"She could have killed me."

"I wasn't going to kill you, brother." Silt pets the white wolf that has come up to her from Eíith's side.

"Where is Jade, anyway? Shouldn't she be practicing with us?" Storm asks as he struggles up and limps back to the rusty chest. He opens it and retrieves some white linen bandages.

"I don't know. She should have been here by now." Silt grumbles.

"Maybe she got tired of blasting immobile targets to smithereens. Or maybe you're as rough on her as-"

"Oúroth," Eíith interrupts quickly using Storm's more formal Draconic name. Silt turns her head, staring at Storm, her eyes starting to burn again.

"You really don't want to finish that, do you?" Eíith asks.

Storm mutters as he bandages himself. Silt huffs and then sighs, flitting off toward the beach. She spreads her wings and soars swiftly out over the waves.

"What's her problem?" Storm asks as Eíith comes over to help with his bandages.

Eíith shakes his head and looks out toward the sparkling sea.

(© 2013 Cassander)