It was dark in the beginning. The only sounds were a soft scratching the occasional deep purr. The walls were thick, but fell away slowly the longer I pushed. The cracking sound that came with it was a sound of triumph, for a young one's first victory is entering the world. The second, is to survive it.

     I pushed my face into the crack between the walls and broke through the outer membrane. The pressure of the force around me poured out as oxygen entered my vessel. I became aware of two things. One, the sensation of dryness as the albumen dripped off my nose. Two, my hatchling gills peeling away from my body. There was something brighter out here. I shoved my nose against the wall and scrapped with the tooth on the end of my nose. It gave way, my head breach the surface. For the first time my jaw opened and my lung unfurled and drained the liquid that had kept me alive for my entire life so far. My thin, weak arms heaved once more at the walls.

     They fell. I scrapped, and crawled my way towards something. The scent of safety, I could feel the warmth ebbing off of another body. The instinct in my bones told me that was the place to go. My face hit something solid, something emanating warmth. The form was making... a noise. Yes, I think that's what those were called. A purring, tumbling, cooing sensation. The figure pressed against me again... their face... her face... and breathed on me gently. That was a breath. It was warm and I liked it and a sound escaped from me. A loud chrill. Her sound changed, a segmented rumble, she was laughing.

     "Hello Longtayle."

     A feeling swelled in my chest, it was so big and so powerful. She'd just given me something—a name—with every word that came to me the stronger I felt. This was my sound. The sound, the feeling, that was mine.

     "He's so beautiful, appropriately named."

     My head swung around, woah, a new sound! A new... name? My chest swelled again and this time I realized I was taking in a breath through my nose. Their scents hit me, both safe, both soft. One smelled of my egg the other of the ground beneath me.

     Their faces pressed against mine. This was where I was supposed to me. I was lifted and placed next to her body, next to more small ones. They were asleep, like we had been in our eggs. The struggle of breaking free was exhausting, and we had earned our rest. Her tongue lapped at the remaining fluid on my body. The other name's face pressed into the ground next to me, with his mouth open wide. My head dipped down and drank until I couldn't. Weariness pulled me down, the soft breathing of the others pulled my mind away to dreams.

     I drifting into rest knowing I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

     I quickly learned she was called muther, the other, pather. They are the ones who feed me and make sure I stay out of trouble. There are also others. They are bigger than me, even the one who hatched after me. I learn they are called siblings. The feeling between us is something only siblings have.

     The oldest is Seth, he knows all the words, and helps me if I get stuck. He's thin, but strong, and makes sure my other siblings don't pick on me. The next oldest is Ronan, he likes using his paws to push things, he's also very strong, more so than me. My last sibling is May, she is small and round and cries a lot. I don't mind.

     "Ow," I yelped, when Ronan's egg tooth jutted into my side. "Mum! It hurts."

     "You have to watch where you're standing, love. Ronan, try rubbing it off on a rock and not your brother." Mum pick me up by the back of my neck and places me between her forelegs. In the background, I can hear Ronan grunting and scrapping his face against a rock.

     I smell her tongue before it hits me, "I had a bath."

     "I'm just helping you open your eyes, darling. You'll be able to see your brother coming with them open."

     Right, eyelids. I pressed my grubby little digits against my face until they pressed against the lumps, I'd been taught were my eyes. Mum's tongue flicked across my face and to my shock, I realized there was something on my... eyes? Is this the elusive eyelid? Instinct said this was a muscle and curiosity piqued my interest.

    Something changed about the area around me. Not... drastically, but I could... see... mum now. She didn't seem to have eyelids though. She was a dark shape in a fog of less dark shapes. Muther let out a surprised noise, then licked my face a couple more times.

     "What?" I asked.

     "Gideon?" Mum called.

     Pop's dark shape loomed over me, I shied away. I wasn't used to this quite yet. It was scary. Mum's paws wrapped around me and lifted me out of the circled-up ball I'd fallen into. I didn't like the way their voices sounded. It was like it was stretched.

     "Longtayle, open your eyes again for us." Pop said, the sound of his voice was not as scary.

     When I did, I heard the sound of my siblings gathering around. I didn't like it, because I didn't know what was wrong. Something about eyelids, although I didn't understand how they could tell. Everyone looked the same, just a mass of... shadow. Yes, I think that's what it was. They only way to tell the difference between us was the sound and the scent.

     Seth's nose bopped against mine. "Why do his eyes look different than ours mum?"

     "What?" I repeated, flicking my stubby tail in annoyance. "What are you talking about? Mum?"

     "It's okay, love. Gideon, what d you make of it?"

     Pop lifted me up by the scruff and into his paws. He didn't seem bothered at all, he just seemed big and strong. He knew everything. He could explain the confusing things everyone was saying.

     "I suppose you're just different than the others. Nothing wrong with that," he said, as he sat me down.

     "Can you see this?" Seth asked.

     "What do you mean?" I groaned; my paws felt hot with frustration. "I don't know what seeing is!"

     "This?" Ronan asked, then his tail flicked me the nose.

     I snapped at it, if I were older smoke would have been pouring out of my gills. "Stop it! Seth, what's seeing?"

     "It's what your eyes do," he offered.

     "Well that clears things up."

     "It's when you can tell how deep the cave it. The light shows what's in front of you. It's different than smelling or hearing. It makes mum and pop's scales look pretty." May's claws flicked against the ground as she ran.

     "Oh," my tongue flicked out. "I don't think I can do that."

     "Which is perfectly fine." Mum tail swept around and gathered us all into a circle. "It's not like anything is going to change. Skylark said that every dragon was going to face challenges, and that's just a part of life. Longtayle, maybe your first challenge is you can't see. You've already got a head start on your siblings."

     "That's not fair!" Ronan gawked, "how came he gets to do it first?"

     "It's just how things happen dear," mum licked his head.

     Ronan huffed as we laid down to nap. My eyes were just closing when May's tongue flicked against my foot. I twitched slightly, letting her know she had my attention.

     "I like your eyes," she whispered.

     "May, rest."

     I blinked, flexing my newfound skill, or lack thereof. I don't think I needed to see, I knew May was grinning. Ronan always beat me whenever we play fought, so I liked having this edge over him. Perhaps I was the first dragon to face this challenge, that makes me very special indeed. I puffed out my chest and flapped my tiny little wings. Mum let out a little chuckle.

     Another thing I learned was the world was a lot bigger than inside our cave. Pop would often be in the front room, and other dragons were going in and out. The front cave was the largest. There was a carpet of moss on the floor and the sound of water dripping from the mouth. Pop let me sit next to him and listen until I got bored. I thought all those other dragons were awfully interesting.

     Some of them were tiny, with small voices. No bigger than I was. Some of them, called wyverns, only had two paws, some had six, like behemoths. Some dragons had four like me, but only walked on two. When leviathans would visit, their whiskers brushed against the floor like mice feet.

     "Where do all these dragons come from, Pop?"

     His throat rumbled, "ah, that's a story for another time."

     He said this often.

     As time passed my siblings outgrew the nest and scuttled along the floor of the cave. Our egg teeth fell off, our eyes opened, we began to talk in longer sentences. The world around us was suddenly intoxicating. I followed them, slower, but I was following them. Each pouch in the rocks had a different smell. The nest smelled of dead leaves, grasses, and soft animal fur. Many times, I'd found beetles hiding in there. Seth wanted to keep the shells after I'd eaten them, I don't know why. Or at least I didn't until I found the den.

     It was much bigger, and did not smell of youth like the nest, but of metal. Metal is something that clinks together, they're like rocks but I've been told they appear different. I find certain metal, like gold, is smooth when molded by dragon fire. Pop had lots of these rocks; the other dragons gave it to him. He said it was a way of saying thank you.

     May gaped, "you must have helped a lot of people."

     Mum let out a puff of hot air, "indeed."

     "What did you do?" Seth asked.

     "Oh, well, lots of things. Most of the time, dragons are just thankful to have some one listen."

     Gideon purred faintly as he surveyed us and his collection. "One day..."

     "One day we will tell you the story," Mum finished.

     Ronan's tail flicked against the ground "I'm going to do the same thing, when I'm older."

     "I have no doubt about that," Pop's tongue flicked against Ronan's cheek.

     Ronan feigned disgust, but purred gently as he flopped over the small pile of gold. He circled twice before curling up on top of it. I padded forward and sniffed it. It didn't seem very remarkable to me.

     The word for it was hoard, something all dragons have. A collection of something—anything—that you like, something that makes you proud. A healthy dragon is a hoarding dragon. Problem was, I had no idea what I liked. The dragons that visited gave Pop rocks of metal and sometimes the best of their catches. Mum and May liked leaves with strong spells. Ronan liked things that were burnt, whether rock or wood or shed scales (his nest stunk) and Seth like crystals and things that shone. I felt like I didn't have anything. Once we moved out of the nest and into the den, my own bed was not lined with feathers or soft petals. It was empty.

     "You will find it love, perhaps it's not a physical," Mum assured.

     My claws curled against the sand of the "What does that mean?"

     "Physical means you can touch it. There are things you can't touch, like a dragon's soul, or name."

     I breathed in, the despair lifting from my shoulders, "Oh... I like that."

     The sand shifted gently as she swung her neck around to face me. "Would you like to know my name, Longtayle?"

     I couldn't but laugh, "I know your name, it's muther."

     She snorted, "sometimes a dragon has two names, love. We all have names from hatching, like yours, sometimes you get more names as you grow. You call me muther, but my muther calls me Margo."

     The scales along my spine quivered all the way down to my tail, "Margo."

     "Would you like your pather's name?"

     My wings quivered with excitement. "Yes! Tell me more!"

     "Gideon."

     I felt like the very grains beneath my stubby paws were shaking with the same elation I felt. "More!"

     Mum laughed, a deep celebratory growl. "That's all for now, I will tell you more later, maybe even the stories that come with them."

     I begged her for more but a muther dragon cannot be easily swayed. I was happy at least. I slunk back to my nest and thought about the names. I imagined myself burning them into the rock, marking the space forever with the power that comes with a name.

     With names came a new hoard of untouchable things, something Pop called knowledge. I was crazy for it. Ever time a dragon came and visited Pop I would sit by him and listen, gathering more names and knowledge. I felt a buzz in me, it was all I could do to sit still.

     "Hello Gideon."

     "Greetings Fir, thank you."

     "I brought something for your hatchling this time," his head brushed the moss and I realized he was bowing to me.

     Pop passed me something, when I stretched forward to sniff it, something sharp dug into m nose and I started back, but reached forward and clasped it gently in my claws. It was circular, and pointy, but not solid. It smelled of the outdoors, of something that was alive, a plant.

     "It's a pine cone, from the forests below, it holds seeds that can only be dropped by fire." Fir explained.

     Gideon seemed pleased, "Skylark knows he deserves it, none of the other little ones have the attention span."

     Fir laughed, "don't I know it."

     I sucked in a breath, breathing the scent and then looking up at the last spot I'd heard Fir. "Thank you."

     I learned something about gratitude that day, and I got the feeling Pop liked the company.