The cool night breeze buffeted Mandu, and sent a chill running down his stone grey scales. Mandu narrowed his cold blue eyes as he stared out over the mountains, into the light of the setting sun. It was hard to say just what he was looking for.

Normally, the cool breeze comforted Mandu, whispering praise and comfort into his ears. Usually, the sun sinking below his mountains was a beautiful sight, a perfect picture that his mountains framed.

But not tonight.

No, tonight, the wind hissed warnings. Tonight, the sun was blood red.

Mandu shook his head. "I cannot believe I have sunk to such petty superstitions," he muttered, then smiled ryely. "I must be getting old."

But his anxiety was well founded. Tonight, he would have to do one of his least favorite jobs as leader of The Mountain Kingdom. Tonight, he would have to kill a dragonet.

Makara paced back in forth in his cell, his tail lashing back and forth. Once more, he peered out from between the bars, and glared at the grey dragon who guarded him. "Hey! You! Can I have some dinner, please?"

The dragon did not turn, did not flinch. "No Twistling. There is only a half an hour until the ceremony."

It took all of Makara's strength not to let out a tiny whimper of fear at those words. But he was strong. "Well, number one, just because my new, official twisted name is Twistling doesn't mean you have to call me that. I prefer Makara. And maybe I can't wait a half an hour. Show me some respect, will ya? I mean, surely, you feed your prisoners from other Kingdoms! But you won't feed a dragonet from your own..." Makara shook his head with mock shame. "Not to mention that I am the--"

"Not any more, Twistling!" The guard snarled, and turned to face him. "Not. Any. More. You are as good as any prisoner from another tribe, got it? You have no importance here anymore. And I will call you by your twisted name."

This time, Makara couldn't help but step back, hurt by his words. It was like they didn't remember who he was anymore. All they saw was his twisted horns, marking him as a dark dragon, a cursed dragon. A twisted dragon.

"Well... if you're treating me equally to any old prisoner from another kingdom, then I should still get some food, don't you think? Cuz, you know... equality and all that..." Makara stared at his paws and fiddled with the silver cuff around his neck so the guard could not see the tears that were swelling in his amber eyes.

The guard seemed to hesitate, then sighed, and rubbed his eyes warily. "Yeah, sure, whatever, I will go get you some..." He headed down the dark halls towards the prison kitchen.

Makara smiled gratefully as the guard turned to go. His smile widened into a wicked grin as a small silver head popped up next to his cell and smiled back at him.

"Hey, Eve. I knew you were there!"

Eve's smile widened as she said "Well, I couldn't just leave you here now, could I?"

Makara glanced around warily, then leaned his head against the bars. "So... what's the plan?"

Eve tossed her head and snorted. "There is no plan. I already did all the work for you." Then she reached into a small, worn brown bag at her side and revealed a tiny, silver key.

Makara looked at her with amazement, and slowly shook his head. "How the heck did you get that?"

Eve grinned, and said "Remember? My mom's in charge of the prisoners? And it's not like she would suspect me."

Makara slowly smiled as Eve stuck the silver key into the lock and let Makara out. "Thanks Eve." he whispered, as he slid past her. "I dunno what I would do without you."

She shrugged, and ducked her silver scaled head. "I just wish there was more I could do..." She handed him the leather bag, and he swung it around his neck. It bumped up against the silver cuff, and Makara froze, and slowly narrowed his eyes. The cuff was plain, silver, and had no ropes or chains attached to it. He had wondered at first what it was used for, but now he thought he knew.

"Eve?"

"Hmm?"

"I think this is a tracking device."

"Oh. Oh crud."

"Yeah. You don't happen to have a key for that, do ya?"

"Um. Makara?"

"What?"

"There is no keyhole..."

"Crap."

"Makara! Don't say that!"

"I happen to think that is perfectly appropriate for our situation."

"But-"

"Shh!" Makar raised his head to the wind, and inhaled deeply. "Someone is coming. Eve, I know this is crazy, but-- will you come with me?"

Eve's eyes widened, and Makara could hear the sound of claws clicking on stone. The guards were approaching.

"Makara-- I-- I am sorry, but... I can't. I just can't." Eve ducked her head in shame, and Makara nodded his head, and tried to shove down his disappointment.

"It's ok. Now go! You go down that hallway, I'll exit through the waiting room. I will miss you, Eve... um. Bye..." makara turned to leave, but then hesitated, and ran back to Eve and hugged her tight. Once more, tears threatened to fall from his eyes, but he kept them in. Eve, however, couldn't prevent a teardrop from sliding down her face.

"Bye Makara... maybe I will see you again, someday... we can meet up in the woods... and I hope you get your tracking thingy off..."

"Yeah... me too. Bye..." He stared at her for a long moment with those deep, amber eyes, then turned and sped down the hallway.

Eve would never see those same amber eyes again.

Mandu slammed his fist into the ground with anger, and let out a throaty growl as he shook the tracker device. They had been searching for hours, but Twistling had always managed to stay one step ahead of them.

After a while, the search parties had split, leaving Mandu in silence to think about what he was about to do.

He remembered The Dark Dragon wars as well as anyone. They had been the darkest point in dragon history, when all the dragons with seemingly harmless twisted horns turned on the others and attacked them viciously. No one knew why. It was the strangest thing. But once they finally ended the war, and all the dark dragons were killed, there was a law passed. The strange thing was, a dragonet could have perfectly straight horns. But then, on the night of their tenth birthday, a cruel, sharp twist would appear in their horns, almost like a unicorns. The law said that any dragonets with twisted horns were to be killed.

But of all the dragonets to have twisted horns... why did it have to be Makara? No, Twistling.

Mandu sighed. Killing him would not be easy. In his opinion, it wasn't even necessary. How could tiny little Makara become the bloodthirsty, cruel dragon his name labeled him as? Sometimes, he wondered if he was more twisted then Twistling could ever be.

He wasn't.

Mandu sighed, and shook his head, then froze, and slowly looked up. There were a pair of large, amber eyes in the bushes, staring back at him with fear. Mandu stepped forwards slowly, and the amber eyes moved back. But Mandu had found him. He knew he had no chance. And so, his own eyes locked onto Twistling's amber ones, he leaped.

The scream could be heard all the way back in the Mountain Kingdom, and any dreams had that night were poisoned by the screech of pure, bitter pain.

Darkness. So much darkness. Why was everything so dark? Makara wondered. And pain. So, so much pain. He thought he could hear Mandu's retreating footsteps, and ragged breathing, slowly growing farther and farther away.

Makara tried to rise, but slipped on his own blood and collapsed once more.

Why aren't I dead?

He wanted to look around, but he couldn't. He didn't know why, but he couldn't. Maybe it was the pain. But still, he slowly dragged himself towards a small stream, and slid in. The water felt so nice, so calm, and clear. He could just fall asleep in it... but no. As he finally cracked open his eyes, he realized what Mandu had done to him and let out a quiet croak of horror at his own reflection.

His face was matted with blood, and the silver band around his neck was now crushed and useless. But through the blood, he could see that one of his once brilliant amber eyes had a deep gouge straight through it. His face was ruined. Scarred. Painful to look at. And he was half blind.

He slowly stood, the moon reflecting off of his midnight black scales, the wind whispering promises and comforts in his ears, and as he slowly slunk into the bushes, the dragon he had once been was left behind as his bloodied eyes narrowed in hatred.

Makara was gone. He was Twistling now. And he was going to get his revenge, no matter what the price.