Whatever Proquess had been expecting-- and she'd been expecting a number of things, not sure which of them would end up being her fate-- this wasn't it. She fixed her attention down on the bloodied, furry, feather-winged little creature at her feet. He was looking, right back-- though he had eyes, and she didn't. He had... eight eyes, in fact. Only four were staring back at her, the other two pairs restlessly, warily looking around the room, seeing everything so that nothing could sneak up on them.

This newborn, newly hatched creature was no more weak and helpless than a newborn, newly hatched warrior. All he lacked was body armor, and he seemed to make up for that in grace-- hatchling or not, this young one had no trouble coordinating his limbs-- and observation. He had already proved that he was strong and vicious, killing one of the other ones gathered to watch the hatching and walk away with one of the infants. The stranger had done nothing, and this furry young one had knocked him down and torn out his throat. No one had done anything, and the hatchling took a single lick of blood from its claws and made his way directly to her, still covered with blood everywhere else.

::You think that just because you're a pale color,:: he told her coolly, a smirk in his voice, despite the violence which had just occurred, ::that you can't wreak havoc? I think I just proved otherwise.:: The smirk widened, the largest head cocking as it stared at her. ::Hopefully I'll be able to teach you that, too, someday.::

That was puzzling, even confusing, but it wasn't particularly unexpected. These hatchlings seemed to speak to the other ones there: they all chose one, presumably to take care of them, and then left the sands with them. She was here, so there was no reason to presume she wasn't fit to look after a hatchling. After so many pairings made, she had guessed that she was there for just such a reason, despite her low rank. It wasn't how her own kind looked after newly hatched, but it made a certain kind of sense. So, that choosing wasn't unexpected. What was unexpected was what came after his implication that he was planning on following her from the sands, like other hatchlings had followed their chosen guardians.

Proquess hadn't felt the safety of the hive's mind around her for months-- years, perhaps; she didn't know anymore. There was no hive now, either, but she suddenly felt that same protective, comforting mental presence. It had a strange feel-- cool and calm, cloud-soft but ice-hard-- but it was close enough to bring back that feeling of security, that certainty that she had a guiding force in her life again. And that guiding force had a name.

::Shishayair,:: she murmured in response to the voice, and the presence, and the person of that little, four-headed dragon.

::Yes,:: he replied simply, and started off the sands with her following placidly behind him.

Shishayair explained things in more detail, later, after he'd been fed and cleaned. ::I might not mind shedding blood,:: he'd said with distaste, ::but that doesn't mean I wish to be matted with it.:: Proquess helped him get clean, using her flexible fingers to untangle egg-clotted curls on his short, plumed tail and on a fringe around his neck and shoulders. She helped him preen downy baby feathers on his wings-- flightless, for now, but they would be powerful when he got older, and once they were clean and dry, they were beautifully soft. She didn't know what color he was until he reflected an image of himself into her mind: aqua and white, with floppy ears and a red marking on the cheek of his main head.

He seemed to enjoy her attentions to his fur, in a distant sort of fashion. Proquess suspected him to be a little vain. She also suspected that everything, with him, would be slightly distant; he did not seem a creature of strong feeling. ::I am not,:: he responded to the unspoken thought, seeming more adult than she felt. His thoughts even seemed more mature than her own, as if his mind was an adult male's to her barely adolescent female.

Returned to her resin-coated rooms, after the meal and bath, she settled on her couch and let him lounge across her foreclaws. He was large, even as a hatchling: easily three and a half feet tall, almost half as large as she was, and liable to grow much, much bigger. There, as he composed himself for his first nap in the waking world, he explained what had happened.

::I bonded you,:: he told her matter-of-factly, as if she should know what that meant. He gazed at her levelly, with all four heads, then added, ::I will explain, but only if you ask.::

After a lifetime of being told not to question, asking was harder than it seemed, even when invited to do so. He waited patiently until she struggled up a thought for him: ::I do not know what this bonding is.::

Though it was not exactly a question, he took it as one and explained anyway. What he said was amazing, terrifying, and wonderful: he was... hers. And she was his, in some strange and wonderful fashion. There might not be deep feeling, but even a little feeling was enough to make Proquess-- lowly, despised, avoided Proquess-- feel giddy. ::Don't let it get around just yet what I told you,:: he warned coldly. ::At least not until we build you a little backbone. I do have my pride to consider, after all.::

::I have no one to tell,:: she told him truthfully.

::Well, now you have me,:: he said firmly, and she smiled despite herself.

::Yes,:: she agreed.

Chapter Three

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