My son," the old dragon heard himself say.
The words fell into the cavern like stones.
Both cubs went very still.
"He made it," Elder Emberglow continued, the words coming from somewhere he hadn't visited in centuries. "Before... before."
"Before what?" Ruì Xuě's voice was barely a whisper.
The old dragon looked at him. At the tiny creature trembling but standing his ground.
"Before he flew too high," he said quietly. "And didn't come back."
The cavern was silent.
Then Yòu Lín did something that would have gotten any dragon killed.
He walked forward, slowly, carefully—and, held up the carving.
"You should have this somewhere nicer," he said. "Somewhere with light. So he knows you still think about him."
Elder Emberglow stared at the tiny creature. At the offering in his paws. At the complete lack of fear in those amber eyes.
"You..." His voice came out rough. "You don't even know him."
"I know you miss him." Yòu Lín shrugged. "That's enough."
~
Ten minutes later:
