Icemoon and her companion, Glory, eagerly approached the periphery of the Mud Kingdom, their anticipation palpable as they longed to reunite with their loved ones. As they halted at the brink, they unfurled their wings and took a collective moment to absorb the sight before them. Icemoon's first deep inhale was met with a noxious assault on her senses—the sharp odor of scorched scales and the cloying scent of death filled her nostrils, causing her to cough and sneeze. Her eyes watered uncontrollably as she gazed upon the desolate panorama that unfolded before them.

Clay, the young dragon standing beside her, watched the scene with a furrowed brow, his concern for Icemoon evident. Glory's visage had paled to a ghastly green, her eyes reflecting the horror that washed over her. "Oh gods," she murmured, her voice quaking with fear.

Icemoon's gaze followed Glory's, her eyes scanning the grisly tableau beneath. The once-verdant landscape was now marred by the contorted, lifeless forms of dragons, their scales blackened by flame and their bodies discarded without care. Some lay half-submerged in the mud, a macabre attempt at concealment amidst the destruction. The stench of decay was omnipresent, a heavy, miasmic cloud that clung to the air and weighed upon the dragons' spirits.

Icemoon's voice was a mere whisper as she surveyed the carnage. "This is... dreadful," she managed to say, her words barely discernible through the stench of dried blood that seemed to infiltrate her very being.

Clay's wings drooped in sorrow, his heart heavy with the reality that his tribe had suffered such a fate. "Do..." he started to speak, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions, but Icemoon swiftly covered his beak with her talons.

"No, don't," she interjected, her tone firm yet reassuring. "Our families are strong. Let's go to the city and find out for ourselves." Despite the horror that surrounded them, she attempted to instill a semblance of hope into their shattered hearts.

Glory, however, was not so easily swayed. "Remember, MudWings aren't exactly chums with IceWings or NightWings," she cautioned, her voice laden with a warning. "You should stay here. It's not safe for you to go to the city."

Icemoon's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of irritation flitting across her features. The tribal enmities of their world were deeply ingrained, but she had hoped that in the face of such calamity, these divisions might be set aside. "I'm not letting that hold me back," she declared, her voice unwavering. "I have to find my family, and I'll face anything to do it."

With a hasty nod from Icemoon, Clay took his leave of Glory, his expression a forced smile. His voice was low and urgent as he spoke. "We'll go in alone," he assured her. "Stay here, we'll be back soon."

The two dragons took to the skies, their wings beating a frantic rhythm as they sought to flee the scene of the battle. Despite the wind in their faces, the odor of burning flesh lingered, a persistent and sickening reminder of the destruction they'd left in their wake. Icemoon banked sharply to the left, her wings angled steeply as she strived to outdistance the acrid smell. Yet, it clung to her scales like a malignant shroud, an unshakeable testament to the tragedy they'd witnessed.

Their flight carried them over a landscape that had been transformed from lush to lifeless. The once-bustling Mud Kingdom was now a barren wasteland, the evidence of war's brutal touch etched into every tree and stone. Charred forests and ruined structures stretched out to the horizon, a stark reminder of the power that had ravaged the land.

As they traversed the desolate terrain, the landscape began to shift. The cacophony of battle grew faint, replaced by the murmur of life and the distant promise of water. They descended into a large, teeming mud pit, a stark contrast to the desolation that lay behind them. The MudWings below went about their business, seemingly unfazed by the intrusion of these two dragonets.

Icemoon's eyes searched the throng for any sign of welcome or information, her tail emerging from a nearby puddle with a wet smack. Her spikes shimmered with moisture in the dappled sunlight. Clay's eyes were also on the lookout, searching for any kin who might be willing to aid them.

Their attention was drawn to a dragoness standing tall amidst the chaos, barking orders to those around her. Her wing bore the jagged scar of a recent battle, and one ear was tragically missing. Despite her injuries, she exuded an air of command, her eyes aglow with an intensity that spoke of fiery determination.

Approaching cautiously, Clay spoke, his words measured. "Excuse me," he began tentatively. "We're looking for anyone who knew Asha. She's a MudWing who..."

The dragoness interrupted him with a snort of derision. "What's it to you?" she demanded, her eyes narrowed in challenge.

"She... she adopted me," Clay finished, his voice quivering slightly with hope.

The dragoness, revealed to be Asha's sister Catil, regarded him with a skeptical gaze. "What do you want with her?" she asked, her voice gruff and unwelcoming.

Clay's hope wavered, but Icemoon stepped in, her voice sharp with accusation. "You sold your own kin to the Talons of Peace for cows?" she exclaimed, her scales bristling with outrage.

Catil's demeanor remained unchanged, her voice flat and emotionless. "Why not?" she countered. "There were plenty of eggs. You weren't missed."

Clay felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. The joyous reunion he had imagined was replaced by a cold, bitter reality. "What happened to the prophecy?" he whispered, his heart aching.

"Prophecy?" Catil scoffed. "Asha was just foolish. She got what she deserved for leaving us."

Icemoon's tail lashed the air, sending mud spraying in an arc of fury. "You callous beast," she hissed, her eyes ablaze with anger. "Asha was a hero!"

Catil's eyes narrowed, and she took a step forward, her claws bared. "How dare you?" she spat, her voice venomous. "You know nothing of our ways. Asha was a traitor to our tribe."

The tension between them grew thick, a palpable force that seemed to coil around them. Icemoon's anger was a living, breathing entity, but she knew that now was not the time for a confrontation. "Let's go, Clay," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "We're not welcome here."

The two dragonets turned away from the hut, the silence between them a heavy, oppressive blanket. Clay's heart was leaden with disappointment, his eyes downcast and lost in thought.

As they trudged through the mire, a dragonet's voice called out from behind them. "Wait!" the voice insisted. "I think I can help you!"

They turned to find Muddy, Catil's own son, racing towards them, his eyes wide with eagerness. "Don't go yet!" he pleaded.

Icemoon's tail slowed its furious lashing, and she cast a wary eye over the young MudWing. What could this dragonet offer them that his mother could not—or would not? The question hung in the air, unspoken but potent with potential.