Flicker's journeys: Baby's First Quest

[Haven't properly proof-read this yet, will edit sometime later]

Life in Cliffdark moved like the tide, a dance with the sea that enveloped it, further complexified by the push-and-pull of trade and politics further out; The gentle, rippling variables atop the larger movements. When one is smaller, these patterns are harder to track consciously. Most settle on an event-based organisation - it is much easier to sort things into “When things were good” vs “When things were bad.” The past couple of months could be safely categorised as the latter.

Flicker was not privy to the intricacies of the problem: The reefs, little more than distant bursts of colour to the Frozen north, wilting with neglect, the ocean-wide famine reverberating through other coastline communities. But it felt the echoes, and it would become able to recognise them for what they were in the years to come. They came in small inconveniences instead: Lacklustre meals, less snacks in between, empty storefronts and worried murmurs from the shopkeeps they belonged to. The shortage hung over the settlement like a miasma, carving new lines in the faces Flicker had once found familiar. 

Some disappeared entirely, retreating back into the inland cities for stability and sustenance. Some had family there, the reunions bittersweet. Others had nothing outside of Cliffdark, and they stuck stubbornly to the sinking economy. This age of scarcity awakened the endurance the Woldren were known for, but with it came the suspicion. Traders were met with wary eyed gazes and short, guarded greetings. Traders too, began to disappear from Flicker’s life, driven away by the fading of Cliffdark’s trademark warmth.

 

Flicker’s schedule itself buckled little to the pressures around it. The village’s children were always high priority, and the den-mothers put great work into guarding the whelps from the brunt of the famine. But children both notice and react to change quite well, and so the amount of mischief the brood stirred tripled, the little factions they’d formed eager to force a steady heartbeat into the town they called home, regardless of how much their antics actually helped. While Flicker shared the frustration, it struggled to see the point in these activities - how would covering cavern entrances in rotten seaweed solve anything? 

Pranks were childish, and if Flicker was anything, it was not a child. Well, not your typical child at least. It settled into a passive role, watching quietly as the adults discussed, the subject still just beyond its grasp. It tried its best regardless, little ears straining to absorb what little they could. There is a problem, therefore there must be a solution - no matter how little it could understand about the situation itself.

 

The sun rose one morning, the blue sky laid bare save for a conservative scattering of small clouds across. The day was bright, but the sunlight was little more than that: Bright. The air was frigid, as it tended to be. The whelps had scattered early to go about their chores and games, but Flicker had made a point of waking earlier to wander the sleeping street. Avoiding its fellow Woldren, yes, but also languishing in the peculiarity of dawn. The stillness of the night before, and the anticipation of the day about to begin. It felt like a secret time, hidden in plain sight. An experience that was only known to Flicker.

It meandered by the shoreline, watching the waves crash against Cliffdark’s namesake. The village had woken up fully now, and Flicker made sure to hang back from the centres of activity, lest a denmother see it and appoint it work. But something else stirred within. It caught the shift in energy, in the way the adults spoke: Something was happening. Something important. Important enough to draw the elders from their caverns as a crowd began to hustle closer to the beach. Slowly, carefully, Flicker followed the gathering to its source.

It caught snippets of gossip as others passed. 

“Newcomers? Now?”
“They don’t look like any traders I’ve seen - or any dragons, for that matter.”
“So many colours! How do they hunt fish?”
“Do they even eat fish? They must do if they live off the sea.”
“Well if they’re looking for fish, they won’t find any here.” 

 

Flicker noticed a shape on the shore, a bright smudge of green about its size. Small, it recognised. The attention it had gathered must’ve been intimidating - dozens of grumpy, fishmonger Woldren glaring down at the little creature, all three times their size easily. The stranger raised their head, peppered with strange growths that fluttered in reaction to their new company. Still, the dragon's expression betrayed no nervousness, at least from where Flicker stood. They cleared their throat, a sac below their jaw pulsing strangely as they did.

“Dragons of the Frozen North! Forgive my interruption of your day-to-day activities, as I believe what news I bring - and the opportunity I offer - will be of great interest to your settlement.” A couple of elders snorted at the claim, but the visitor either didn’t notice or did not care to address their scepticism.

“My name is Kelp, and I come as an ambassador for my species, the Sea Gliders. You may have noticed a depletion in the ocean’s resources - well, we have too. We’ve lived in quiet isolation, much like you surely have been, but our lack of communication with our fellow dragon has led to a great degradation - we haven’t enough hands on deck to care for our coasts, you see.”

“I come to your shores seeking help. While our inventory has been affected by this current scarcity, we can offer food and treasures in trade. And long term, if we can get back on our feet - or fins, more accurately - we will bring the Isle of Fangs back to some normalcy.”

 

While Cliffdark had no official leader, there were some voices that carried more weight with the community - so when one of their most ancient members, a Woldren who’d been present at the village’s founding, began to speak - all surrounding chatter swiftly quieted.

“I hear you, Kelp of the Sea Gliders. I can tell you have travelled a long way from home, and can see clearly how you shiver in the North’s cold. Let us make this quick, then.”

She continued, her voice a rumble deeper than the waves themselves. “We will aid you and your kind. While we hardly represent the North in its entirety, we will echo the warmth of its inhabitants as best we can. Let us know what - and who - you require. We can discuss specifics, but you have the village of Cliffdark’s full support.” Flicker caught the glances she gave to the crowd. All those present would follow her will in the coming months, lest they wanted to provoke her temper. 

 

It watched as the people of Cliffdark discussed and split off, eager to right their world with hard work, something Woldren were fond of and familiar with. It too, felt a stir within its chest at the prospect. It wanted to make a difference, however small. It wanted its old home back, the time when things were good. It waited for the gathering to fully dissipate, anticipating a scolding and a swift return to the whelp cave if it was spotted. All of this business sounded awfully adult, after all.

As soon as the last dragon left Kelps company, Flicker galloped to replace them. The ambassador did not take immediate notice, and seemed surprised at its sudden appearance. His fins stiffened, but his gaze remained even; Perhaps it even warmed a little more. 

“Oh! Hello, pup. What’s your name?” His voice took a familiar croon, and its fur puffed indignantly in response.
“Flicker! Of Cliffdark. I’m no pup.” It asserted sternly.
“Ah, my sincerest apologies, Flicker of Cliffdark.” Kelp returned diplomatically, the note of humour thankfully hidden from the whelp. 

Flicker quickly remembered why it was there in the first place, and its temper eased quickly in the wake of bigger fish to fry. “I am here to… Aid your kind, as our elders have said. So what jobs have you got for me? Destroying human ships? Building new cities?” 

His gaze shifted as he considered what chore would be most appropriate. Was there any way to compromise between something grand and important and, more crucially, something safe and achievable for a whelp? He returned to Flicker, studying it. It was certainly a large whelp. Maybe it could handle a little more than he expected.

“Well, something closer to the latter option. We don’t need new homes per say, but our current buildings have been worn away by the currents. Your coasts seem to have plenty of good materials to spare, perhaps you could collect some here? My time in your village will be brief, I’m not built for this kind of weather - but I’ll stay until sundown, and you can leave what you’ve found here on this spot for me to collect.”

Kelp studied the young Woldren’s reaction, expecting disappointment of some kind- It was a far cry from what it’d suggested, after all - but to his surprise, he found nothing but determination. Flicker nodded, a new fire in its eyes. “Yes, sir. I’ll get on it im - imme… Right now!” 

And so it galloped away, kicking up gravel in its wake. It had a job to do.