A tiny pure white dragonet lunged into the clear summer air. The minature dragon came
hurtling past the forest floor, her wings and brilliant amber eyes closed to the unforgiving wind.

She hit the ground, sending up a spray of dust, dirt and pine needles, knocking the breath out of her. The dragonet lay there for a moment, her eyes shut tight against the pain and then stood. She,looked herself over carefully, but there were no wounds. There never were. She had remembered just a few days ago that her scales were impenetrable except the scales on her belly, but still could not remember her own name. She barely remembered how to think, let alone fly, but here she was, trying it anyway.

*Stupid dragon,* she chastised herself. *Where do you come from? Who are you? You
can't remember can you? You can remember nothing but the disease.* Yes, she did remember that, and that alone of the many events she had faced in her life. Her wyern had become infected, she vaguely remembered, with some sort of sickness that made you forget everything. The final stage was when your body forgot its functions. Then you died.

She had been out, she knew not where, when the infected warrior had appeared at the
caves, begging for food and medical aid. She was one of the only dragons that was not affected by the time she arrived back, and she had been sent to find some antidote. On the way, however, she sickened, and flew days and days to a secluded place so she would not infect anyone else as the warrior did. She had already forgotten the mission. She would have continued, even now, God knows how long it had been, but she still could not remember the antidote or what it looked like.

She was on the mend, no longer infectious, but she still would have to work hard to uncover what she had forgotten. Relearning to fly was the first step.

With that thought, the dragonet sighed and lifted herself into the air once again. She would keep trying until it killed her. For a moment all went well, and the dragonet closed her eyes in perfect bliss. When she opened them again, she saw she was hurtling toward a great golden lump, with scales all over it. She tried to scream but found she could not. Unable to stop herself, she went flying into the lump. With a great crash of scales, the dragonet went hurtling to the floor, unable to stop her stunned body. Suddenly, a golden paw reached out so fast it seemed like a blur, and caught her. The last thing the dragonet saw was a pair of green eyes and the flash of steel talons before she blacked out.

* * *

DragonStar smiled and sighed with happiness. Everything was perfect; no trouble in the wyern, great relations between human and dragon, and a perfect summer day. There was nothing she would rather be doing than what she was doing right now; guarding the passage through Yikola Tynail, the ancient portal that linked her world to Earth, and to countless other planets. She was friendly, but not friendly enough (and not stupid enough) to allow just anyone to settle on Raiu.

That perfect world was shattered though, with a sudden sharp thump to her side.
Immediately DragonStar stuck one paw out to pummel the intruder, and instead had a soft, tiny white body land in her hand. She quickly moved her steel claws out of the way and raised the bundle to her eyes to take a look. Fierce little amber eyes stared back at her, and with a faint hiss closed. She gently poked the tiny dragon with one claw, but it did not stir. Shrugging her shoulders, DragonStar carried the little bundle into her cave. Guarding would have to wait.

* * *

The dragonet woke in a small, soft basket. She smiled. It was one of the most comfortable things she had ever slept in . . . at least, in which she could remember sleeping. Yawning, she stepped carefully out of the basket like a small cat, and looked around the room. It was large and richly furnished. A beautiful bed stood in one corner, and traditional tapestries covered the blank gray walls. In another corner stood a huge gray box. A humongous gold dragon sat in front of the box, mumbling softly. As she spoke, words appeared on the screen on the box. It was all too amazing for words, she was positive she had never seen anything like it before. Immensely curious she walked closer to the box, only to step on the gold dragon's tail. The dragon whirled about and smiled to see that her new charge was up.

"Hello," cooed the dragon, her voice soft and persuasive. "Do you have a name?"

The dragonet opened her mouth to speak, but found all that came out was a faint whistle, as though wind flowed over the mouth of a bottle. She closed her mouth, realizing she looked foolish, and lay on the floor. She was not even sure she could trust this stranger, and she was about to tell her everything! She felt the dragon's mind pushing against hers, and nearly laughed. Its mental skills were so clumsy! The dragonet gently ran the tip of her mind against the dragons mental block, and found it easy to penetrate. Putting an image of calm, controlled violet foremost in her thoughts, the dragonet skimmed easily across the larger dragon's thoughts and memories.

In just a few seconds she learned the dragon's full name, DragonStar Steelclaw, that she was the leader of a wyern called Firestone, and how to work the box, or computer as we
commonly know it. She was completely ready to rifle through DragonStar's personal memories but the larger dragon pulled back, disappointed at what she thought was the simplicity of the little dragon's thoughts, but was actually a complex mind block. Frowning a little, DragonStar turned back to the computer and continued mumbling. It was only after she left that the dragonet realized what she had done.

* * *

The next day was spent performing complex mind searches on other members of the
wyern. Some of the dragon's shocked her in their simplicity, while others earned great admiration at both their deeds and thoughts. A better, longer mind search revealed that DragonStar was not as stupid as she had first thought, just very clumsy with magic and telepathy. She was a wonderful leader, very intelligent, brave and a strong fighter. When she needed help with magic, she would turn to other dragons for help, and made sure everyone got involved. This made for a very closely knit, loving wyern, and the dragonet nearly ached to become a part of it.

The ache reminded her of the closeness of her own wyern, the one ravaged by disease, and particularly one friend . . . The idea made her resolve to do the most complex mind search she knew, on herself. Who knows what mental blocks the disease itself put up, perhaps they were actually very simple! She reserved the very next day to do it. When the time came, the dragonet went to the room she had first awakened in, and arranged herself appropriately on the floor. Suddenly, she realized she probably would not want to be disturbed, so, using her mind, she locked the door without the key, and without getting up. It seemed a natural thing to do; she did not even question herself about it.

She learned a lot about herself that day, and a lot about the disease that had struck down so many. Nearly the first thing she found was her own name, and she had to struggle not to break down the link to meditate on it further. Silverthorne. It fit somehow. She remembered someone calling her Thorne once, with love in his heart and a smile on his lips. She resolved that, when she did finally reveal her identity, she would ask them to call her "Thorne." The name sent a sweet warmth gushing through her heart.

She tried breaking down the block even further, but it was difficult. The disease was like a sentient being, setting up nearly impenetrable blocks and feasting on the creature's uncertainty and fear. As the creature got used to the idea of not remembering something, it would set up yet another block, and so on, and so on, until the creature died and the virus did as well. Thorne clenched her fists in anger. Surely there was a kinder way to generate fear, or at least not dry its host up as it did . . . it seemed fitting the virus died as well. Thorne decided never to feel frightened again at losing her memory, at least the virus would not get the satisfaction of drinking her dry.

Try as she might, the only other thing she found was that her wyern's name was Greenleaf, and that it existed in the mountain range on the north side of the continent, a good day's flight from here. After four more hours of fighting the blocks and getting nothing, Thorne fell asleep, exhausted.

* * *

A small black dragon rose from his newly constructed cave, uncertain at what had woken him. Probing about for a while, he found nothing sentient. Perhaps a noise . . . Whatever it was, it was gone now. He curled up inside himself, nose touching tail, and tried to sleep, his ember bright eyes burning in the darkness. Sighing, he rose. If only he was not so alone. Suddenly, he felt a slight nudging at his mind. With a lot of effort and magic, he had been able to set up a mental block in his mind that would alert him if anyone mentioned his name, thought of him, or Silverthorne. He sniffed about a moment, unsure of what to do. The nudging was too far away to determine its location, so there really was not much he could do. Letting out another great throaty dragon's sigh, he lay back down and fell asleep.

* * *

Loud pounding at the door woke Thorne. For a moment she could not remember where
she was, and then with a start of horror realized she had fallen asleep in DragonStar's quarters.

*Stupid, stupid, stupid,* she chastised herself, unlocking the door with her mind. It swung open, and DragonStar peered in, amazed. She had three other dragons with her, Irehk, Mijj, and one she had not scanned yet. Working quickly, she ran her mind over his. BlackHunter, very strong, very intelligent. Very telepathic. Damn, damn, damn. She had let herself get careless. BlackHunter looked around, startled, and whispered something to DragonStar. The larger dragon shrugged.

"Don't worry, Hunter, it's probably nothing. There's no one telepathic around here,"
DragonStar reassured him. A quick mental scan told Thorne she was actually very worried. She was definitely going to be more careful from now on, unless Thorne did something, and fast.

Swallowing her pride, Thorne chittered and ran up to DragonStar, perching on her shoulder. The three dragons smiled, and Thorne burned inwardly with shame. Oh well, at least they were never going to think her very intelligent now. She was acting like a trained animal!

A few minutes later, DragonStar was once again mumbling into the computer, and Thorne
was hard at work digging. She really did not have much to do, so why not make a little hole to stay in? She was making a lot of progress, despite her small size. After a long time, DragonStar left, leaving the computer turned on! Chittering with glee, Thorne ran up to the computer and moved the mouse about with a few good flicks of her tail. Within seconds, she was absorbing e-mails written by another dragon, Sunfire.

Sunfire had some good ideas, but Thorne nearly blushed in rage when she read a
suggestion to kill her made by a hydra. Luckily, both DragonStar and Sunfire had agreed that this was a bad idea. Finishing with the e-mail, Silverthorne looked down to see that DragonStar had a web page as well. Smiling mischievously, Silverthorne created a new web page, and began typing with her tiny, versatile tail. The perfect way to tell the world exactly who she is; and maybe get some news of her wyern in the bargain.

* * *

The black dragon floated in a bright sea of pale green mist. He was calm, relaxed, nothing could possibly bother him, nothing called his name. Smiling slightly, he floated about the silent prison, looking for something. As suddenly as the rains came in summer, he found what he was looking for, without even being aware what it was. The object glowed with a faint almond light, and seemed almost to smile at him with unspoken wisdom. The dragon grew even calmer, if that were possible, and waited for the thing to speak.

*Greetings,* it began, tones liquid cool in his mind. For a second, just a second, his heart flooded with pain as he remembered another voice sweet in his mind. Then the feeling passed, and he was left standing there as it seemed he had always done.

"Greetings, Ancient One," the dragon replied, still waiting.

*Justin . . .* The light paused. *There is another.*

"Yes. I know. I felt them in my mind."

*It's not what you think it is, Justin. You must be careful, its form is hidden from even my sight. All I know is that it's in danger. The ghosts are jealous, they want someone alive. And it's someone that you love.*

"Yes . . ."

*In a few days time, it will be at the caves. You are at least a week from Greenleaf now.*

Justin frowned. "What do you want me to do?"

*Go there,* the voice whispered, growing stronger somehow.

"Yes." It all seemed clear to him now. The caves were calling. Suddenly, the almond light blinked out, and the mist faded away. A small black dragon opened his eyes in the darkness. Justin was awake, and he knew what he had to do.

* * *

Thorne thumped her tail against the rocks in frustration. Her web page had been up for a day or two now, and still, no one had noticed. Just a few minutes earlier she had decided to try and communicate with DragonStar, but it was nearly impossible. Her voice box seemed incapable of making more intelligible sound than roars or hisses. *This is impossible,* she screamed to herself, *how am I supposed to tell them ANYTHING without being able to communicate??* Suddenly, it hit her, like a ten-thousand pound dragon falling from the sky.

*Of course,* she told herself in wonder. *How could I not have figured it out before? I'm a mute, aren't I? And I'm telepathic. There seems to be no way for me to communicate except telepathically.* Suddenly, her mind flashed back to DragonStar's clumsy probing, and the rock hard, broken mental blocks. Thorne shuddered. *But how am I to communicate with that? Of course, there's always BlackHunter . . . but I'm not sure I trust him yet.* The only thing left to do was wait. Besides, she was tired. Best to climb into her newly finished hole, and catch a few winks. Within seconds she was asleep.

* * *

Silverthorne found herself wandering in her old cave in the wyern, blood dripping down the walls. It was a horrific sight, yet she found herself almost at home among the wandering spirits, shrieking for revenge. Suddenly, a phantasm rose up before her, blocking her path.

"Silverthorne," the ghost shrieked terribly, "how could you?"

*How could I what?* she replied, biting her tongue.

"Leave us here to die?"

*I never did that! I wanted to help!* she answered indignantly.

The ghost would not answer for a moment, merely stared at her from empty eye sockets,
its pale and ghostly scales twinkling where there was no light. She did not recognize it. Suddenly, as in answer, it threw several small, dainty white flowers at her. They burned to the touch, and Thorne recoiled in horror.

*My mission, my mission,* she thought in horror, *I betrayed them all!*

The ghost looked at her in smug amusement. "No one is left," it chided her, "not even
Justin!"

*Justin?* she asked herself. *Who?* Then, she remembered. His warm smile, red eyes
filled with compassion, a dear friend . . . *No! Not Justin!* she howled with renewed strength.

The ghost shook its head sadly. "Mourn for us, Silverthorne. We've nothing left." With those words, the dream slowly melted away, leaving her blinking in darkness and drowning in loathed memories.

* * *

"Where is that little dragonling?" DragonStar bellowed in the halls, rousing several
dragons from sleep and several from thoughts. They were not upset, merely sighed and went back to what they were doing. Their leader had been asking this question for several days now, in pain and fear, and her followers knew it was best to leave her alone.

_I can't get that image out of my mind!_ DragonStar thought to herself, clenching her
teeth. Just seconds before she had been speaking with a dragon friend. She had suggested that someone who was unfamiliar with the wyern may now have a little white and gold hide in their possession.

"I won't allow it!" she screeched again. "Thorne, where ARE you?!"

The little dragon appeared at her feet and stared up into DragonStar's eyes, amazement showing in her face. "This is too easy . . ." DragonStar whispered.

DragonStar felt a faint pushing at her mind, and looked around wildly. Someone was
trying to communicate. She heard the slight clanging of bells in her mind, sounding as if they were trying to form words . . . suddenly, someone's consciencness much more powerful than her own soared high above her thoughts, looking down on DragonStar's secrets as though herding sheep. Sparkling like starlight, a voice spoke in her mind. *Hello, DragonStar, I suppose we can finally meet, although if it had been my choice it would have been in a different way . . .*

With a start, DragonStar looked down. Silverthorne was staring at her intensely, the tiny jewel imbedded in her forehead twinkling with bright light that almost seemed amused.
DragonStar took a deep breath and began, "Hello Thorne. Welcome to Firestone."

The tiny dragon, upon hearing her name once again spoken in a friendly fashion, felt
happiness and sadness both prickling in her eyes. She did not cry, of course. Dragons could not cry.

* * *

"Phew, what a day!" DragonStar said quietly into her computer, watching intensely as the words appeared on her automated computer diary. Once again she congratulated herself on ordering the custom-made computer. Despite the hassle, it had become an inseparable part of both hers and the other dragons on Raiu's life.

"Well, I found Thorne at last. She just ran up to me, as though nothing had happened, and introduced herself. She's mute, but not non-sentient or stupid as I originally thought. She's extremely intelligent, and telepathic! She and BlackHunter struck up an immediate conversation, as soon as she had filled me in on some of the details of her life. I think the two of them will be good friends. I think she likes me too, but she says that my telepathic communication is as hard to reach as a human when in dragon form!"

DragonStar smiled, and then continued: "She's originally from a wyern called Greenleaf, on the other side of Raiu. Not much more than a day's flight from here. It's abandoned now, apparently it was destroyed by some sort of disease spread by a wanderer. I'll have to be very careful from now on, I suppose. Well, anyway, that was several days ago, but I was too busy to write, or really, speak.

"At the moment Thorne is flying towards her own wyern to look for her old hoard. She
assured me that the disease is no longer infectious if the creature carrying it is dead, or lasts for longer than a week. Its been about a month since the cataclysm, I believe. I'm not sure if she's telling the truth, though, about looking for her old hoard. She had an odd look to her eye." DragonStar frowned for a moment, but then smiled.

"Whatever it is, I hope she finds what she's looking for. DragonStar out." The dragon
reached down and clicked the microphone off. She sat there for a moment, meditating on what she had just written. Sighing, she stood and left, intent on other duties.

* * *

Silverthorne stood quietly in the mouth of the cave, listening silently to the memories of death that came floating past. Just because the disease had robbed the wyern's bodies of living memories, didn't mean that it drained the soul as well. Sighing, SilverThorne picked herself up from the ground, drying brown leaves clinging to her milky pale scales and turning them a dusty, dirty brown. She could have stood there forever, wondering what to do, had she not felt a slight presence at the back of her mind. Carefully, she focused all of her senses at it, but still, its name eluded it her. It was mysterious yet familiar, coal black yet blood red, and small as herself. The name kept slipping from her, just as she almost held it in the palm of her hand, it was upon her.

Black scale clashed against ghostly white, making a groaning sound in the still, midnight air. Thorne was thrown to the floor, and gazed up, ready to speak a harsh word to the intruder. It seemed ready to do the same to her, but then, she recognized him. *Justin?* she asked hesitantly, her voice tremulous as a summer breeze as she spoke in his mind.

"Yes," the dragon beside her breathed. "Thorne. You've come too." He conversed easily
with her, as if he had been hearing her silent voice in his head all his life. He had.

The pair paused for a moment, in shock. Silverthorne smiled and let her supple mind
wander to the sweet memories of Justin. He had always been a mystery, a dragon shadow with a human name, as dark as she was light. He was the opposite of her in every way, and yet they fit. At least they had one thing in common; they had both been alone until they met each other. Thorne had come to Greenleaf wyern when she was a tiny drakeling, barely as long as a talon. No one knew where she came from. All anyone remembered of her childhood was her tinny voice inside their heads, stating her name firmly and then curling up for sleep. Justin had just appeared, the same age as Thorne, a few weeks later, a "regular" dragon but stunted in growth.

His eyes were like fire, his scales like the brief true darkness of a night with no moon, and his heart was emptier than hers.

*Why are you here?* she asked, her voice no more than a whisper.

"Probably for the same reason as you," he answered, smiling. He paused. "Although I've already been there."

*In the caves?* she asked, puzzled.

"Yes."

*Oh.* She went on then, attempting at the light banter that had normally come so easily between them. *Have you found another wyern then?*

"No."

*Ah. You must come with me then, after I've finished looking around.*

"You musn't go in there," he interrupted, holding her gaze with a grip of steel.

*But . . . my hoard . . .* she stammered, at loss for words, frightened at the cold
expression in her friend's eyes. His eyes grew colder still, and she ran from them, into the cave and into the ancient corridor. Justin ran after her, his clomping footsteps hesitant. He had always been faster than her, and caught her arm, panting with exertion. She spun to face him, her bright jewel twinkling with an unspoken question.

"No," Justin told her, his voice stern and eyes wild, frightened. His young voice was muffled with time, it filled the corridor, nearly choked her. She fought for every breath, pain hovering in a bright red haze above her eyelids, threatening to take her and cast her away into unforgiving darkness. "There is nothing more. Nothing to see, to hold, to touch. Nothing but broken memories and broken hearts. I nearly died seeing it. I still cannot remember anything, not the pain, not the wyern, not the disease itself. How would it fare for you, with the bloody images still calling your name? They are jealous, Thorne. They want your living body and sweet, warm breath. Did they call to you? Did they lie and make you believe you killed them? I know they did. Leave this place, leave now, and never speak of it again."

*I must see,* she pleaded with him, her jewel tinted blue with regret and sorrow. *If there is nothing left, so be it, but I cannot leave this place without knowing what happened. I feel as though I abandoned them, you, to fate, fleeing only to save my own worthless hide.*

"It wasn't like that at all," he reminded her, bright light twinkling in his dark red eyes. "You tried to save us, you nearly killed yourself trying . . ."

*But it wasn't enough. I had thought no one survived, it seemed as it was only fitting to come, to die.*

"I survived."

She looked at him then, saw tears streaming down his cheeks. Dragons could not cry, she knew, she had wanted to often enough. It was one more mystery about Justin she could not solve. She reached out to him with her mind, felt his heart cracked and broken, and realized she was all he had left. If she left now, she would never come back, and she would be abandoning him yet again. *Oh, Justin . . .* Silverthorne whispered, breaking the spell. She threw herself into his arms and the two were hugging, laughing, happy to be alive and yet so full of sorrow. The air grew clearer, and something flew past them with a rush of death-scented wind.

"What was that?" he asked, pulling away, his voice ringing true and sweet.

*Time,* she answered, smiling. She took his paw and slithered out of the corridor. There were no more ghosts in the cavern, and their wispy forms flew up into the stars. Glancing towards them, Thorne thought she saw someone she knew and looked down. She didn't want to know.

*THE END*