Seeds Carried on the Wind
The seeds carried on the wind.
“It’s almost time to eat. I wonder how much Gargantua will sweep up today…”
Our meals consisted of the mountains of meat Gargantua gathered by sweeping up entire mountains or seas.
The ones who still felt hungry after that simply went out hunting themselves.
After all, this place was nearly impossible to reach unless you were a dragon, so the surrounding wilderness overflowed with prey.
There was zero chance of humans discovering us.
As long as we didn’t go to them first, humans could never set foot here.
That was what the Dragon Canyon was like.
It didn’t appear on any maps. There were no paths. The mountain range was so rugged that even a single person would struggle to pass through, and above it hung the perpetual mist and storms created by Gargantua’s six pairs of wings.
For an ordinary human to reach this place, they would first have to climb sheer cliffs, endure the high-altitude winds, and then navigate the disorienting fog.
Even if they somehow found the mountain gate blocking the canyon entrance, there was no way to open it.
And if Gargantua so much as coughed, everything would be blown away anyway.
Approaching this place was, in practice, impossible.
Unless you were a dragon, of course.
After all, this entire house had been built for dragons in the first place.
I sat on a flat rock at the edge of the cliff and looked down into the canyon.
Five hundred years ago, when I first came here, the canyon had been closer to a vast nesting ground packed with eggs and hatchlings.
Everywhere you looked there were unbroken eggs. In every crevice between rocks, tiny dragons squeaked and cried. Beneath the shadows of the cliffs, newly hatched babies tangled together in piles.
Even now, there were still eggs and hatchlings.
But there were far more adult dragons these days.
One curled up asleep on a black cliff face.
Another napping with only its head submerged in a deep pool.
One proudly arranging bones in neat piles around its nest.
One who had half-unfurled its wings, then noticed a baby dragon from the neighboring nest about to roll away and quickly glanced at me.
I let out a sigh as I watched them one by one.
“Hey, fold your wings.”
The teal-colored adult dragon in the distance flinched.
“Yeah, you. You’re about to blow the kid next to you away.”
“Kiiing…”
“Don’t give me that wronged look. One flap from you and that whole nest would go tumbling.”
The teal dragon carefully folded its wings.
In the nest beside it, a small hatchling lay upside down, kicking its short legs in the air.
I pointed at it with my finger.
“And you, get up. It’s almost time to eat. If you stay lying down, you’ll miss your meal.”
“Pii…”
The hatchling jumped up at my words, only to step on its own tail and fall over again.
Roll.
I closed my eyes.
“Ha.”
Even after five hundred years, this household never had a single quiet day.
Dragons were simply that kind of creature.
Big, strong, dangerous, and far too careless with anything smaller than themselves.
A playful shove could send someone flying. A light bite could snap bones. One irritated breath could erase the surroundings entirely.
The fact that these children behaved so well most of the time wasn’t because they lacked instinct.
It was because I had repeated the same warnings every single day for five hundred years without fail.
No breath attacks.
Wings gentle.
Tails careful.
Small ones are not toys.
Think before you kill.
Of course, that last one still didn’t sink in very well.
It wasn’t that the children were bad. For a dragon, killing other creatures was simply as natural as breathing.
My job was to stop that natural behavior every single time.
“Myaaaaaah!”
A long, drawn-out cry rose from below.
I didn’t even turn my head.
“The meat hasn’t arrived yet.”
“Kiiii…”
“Crying won’t make it come faster. Eat when Gargantua gets here.”
The little yellow dragon drooped its neck in disappointment.
The red dragon beside it slowly stretched its head toward the baby.
I narrowed my eyes immediately.
“You.”
The red dragon froze.
“You were thinking about biting your sibling’s head, weren’t you?”
“Kaaak?”
“Don’t play innocent. If you bite it as a joke, that kid will go rolling.”
The red dragon obediently turned its head away.
Or at least pretended to.
I knew it would wait for a moment when I wasn’t looking and stretch its head out again.
That much counted as peaceful daily life.
No one had been hurt, no nests had collapsed, and no flames had spread through the canyon. So yes, it was peaceful.
I knew my standards had become completely warped.
But after living here for five hundred years, this was what happened.
I stood up from my seat and looked down at the feeding grounds.
Dragons were already gathering there one by one.
It was called the feeding grounds, but to human standards it was closer to a small plain.
It hadn’t been that wide in the beginning.
But as more dragons reached adulthood, every meal became chaotic. Tails would knock over nests, wings would scrape cliffs, and fights would break out over pieces of meat.
In the end, Gargantua had widened the mountain walls a little more, Alduin had hardened the floor with his flames, and Masor had sliced away the dangerous rocks. Only then did the current feeding grounds take shape.
Even after all that work, it still felt cramped sometimes.
Because the dragons had simply grown too big.
“Only the ones who’ve washed their front paws may enter the feeding grounds.”
When my voice spread through the canyon, several adult dragons flinched.
I pointed straight at one of them.
“You. You just came back from the hunting grounds, didn’t you?”
“Kurrr…”
“Don’t come in with muddy paws. Go wash them.”
The massive gray-brown dragon walked toward the pool with a wronged expression.
Each step made the ground rumble.
“Even after five hundred years of teaching, getting them to wash their front paws before eating is still so hard.”
Rustle.
Before I knew it, Masor had appeared beside me.
Even after five hundred years, Masor remained quiet.
It had grown much larger than before. Its steel-colored scales had become deeper and sharper, and the edges of its wings still sliced through the surrounding air like invisible blades.
Still, whenever it stood next to me, it deliberately made noise.
So I wouldn’t be startled.
“You’re here?”
Rustle.
“Help tidy up the feeding grounds today too. Cut away any big bones.”
Rustle.
“I mean make it easier for the kids to eat. I’m not asking you to slice everything to the exact same thickness like last time.”
Masor paused for a moment.
It must have liked that idea.
“It looked pretty, though.”
Rustle.
“That was a compliment. Just keep it moderate today.”
Rustle.
This time the sound was a little brighter.
That was when a low rumble rose from far away.
Kuuuuuuuuuuung—
Every dragon in the canyon lifted its head at once.
Hatchlings, adults, those who had been napping, even the gray-brown dragon heading to wash its paws—all of them looked in the same direction.
Above the canyon.
Where the mist gathered.
Gargantua was returning.
First, the wind changed.
The warm currents that had been blowing into the canyon grew lower, and the scent of blood, sea, and damp earth came rushing in all at once from beyond the mountains.
Then a shadow appeared.
Six pairs of wings slowly unfurled above the mist, and that shadow covered the canyon cliffs.
Gargantua still could not fly.
But to him, wings were not tools for soaring through the sky.
They were organs that moved storms, hands that altered the mountain winds, and enormous nets that swept up beasts from distant lands.
Today was no different.
The smell of blood, as if an entire mountain range had been overturned, rode the wind down to us.
Mixed in between was the salty scent of the sea.
“Looks like he went all the way to the ocean.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“There’s going to be a lot today.”
Gargantua’s three pairs of eyes slowly revealed themselves through the mist.
His mountain-sized head tilted over the canyon, and his six pairs of wings folded once with a great sweep.
And then meat began to fall from the sky.
Thud.
First, a massive horned beast crashed onto the edge of the feeding grounds.
Thud.
Next came a herd of wild boars whose shells were as thick as boulders.
Kwaaang.
Then a gigantic fish still dripping with water.
I called it a fish, but it was the size of a small house.
The feeding grounds shook, and the hatchlings cried out in excitement.
Piiiiik!
Kiiii!
Krrrrr!
I cupped both hands around my mouth and shouted.
“Gargantua!”
The mountain-like dragon’s three pairs of eyes turned toward me.
“I told you not to drop them, but to set them down gently!”
Gargantua’s voice rumbled like thunder, low and deep.
“O Mother, Rohantihak. I was… careful.”
Some of the dragon language in the middle was unintelligible, but I caught the important parts.
I looked at the horned beast half-buried in the feeding ground floor.
One of its horns had stabbed into the ground and wouldn’t come out.
“This is what you call careful?”
Gargantua remained silent.
It was the silence of someone who genuinely believed he had been careful.
I pressed my forehead.
“Fine. I understand. Be more careful next time.”
“Yes.”
When Gargantua lowered his head, the dragons in the feeding grounds began to move all at once.
They didn’t line up.
We had tried that several times, but it always failed.
When dozens of adult dragons formed a line, the line itself became a new piece of terrain, and fights would break out over who stepped on whose tail or who smacked someone in the face with a wing.
In the end, the only remaining rule was that everyone took their own meat from their own spot, with hatchlings and injured dragons going first.
“Hatchlings first.”
Several large dragons lowered their bodies.
“Injured first.”
A blue dragon with bandages wrapped around its wing carefully stepped forward.
“And you, don’t chew on the bandages.”
The blue dragon flinched.
“Mom saw that.”
“Kiiing…”
In the meantime, Masor descended to the feeding grounds.
Its steel-colored wings moved low, smoothly slicing through thick shells and dangerous bones.
Rustle.
Rustle, rustle.
The adult dragons each took their share in their mouths and returned to their spots.
Raw meat.
Blood flowed, steam rose, and some pieces still carried the scent of the sea.
To dragons, that was a perfectly natural meal.
There was no need to cook it with fire, no need for salt, no need for plates.
They had teeth, claws, and stomachs.
That was enough.
The problem was me.
Even after five hundred years, I had never developed a taste for tearing into raw meat.
Fortunately, our household’s eldest child understood that very well.
Krr.
Alduin descended to the center of the feeding grounds.
His black scales gleamed deeply in the sunlight, and his golden eyes were still imposing.
Even among the adult dragons, when Alduin moved, a path naturally opened.
The King of Dragons.
Ever since Gargantua had first called him that, the dragons of the canyon treated Alduin accordingly.
Of course, in my eyes he was still the same eldest child who used to get caught trying to steal dried meat sacks.
Alduin selected the best cuts and placed them in front of me.
I looked down at the meat, then up at Alduin.
“What part is this today?”
Krr.
“I can’t understand you.”
Rr.
“Anyway, it’s a good part?”
Rrr.
Alduin looked proud.
I took out a flat stone slab and placed the meat on it.
Alduin very carefully lowered his head.
Heat gathered inside his throat.
I immediately raised a finger.
“Gently.”
The heat decreased.
“Even gentler.”
It decreased more.
“No, that temperature would cook a rock.”
Alduin’s eyes wavered.
“My standards.”
Rr.
“Yes. That’s about right.”
Alduin exhaled a very thin breath.
The heat flowing from the black dragon’s mouth wrapped around the stone slab and slowly cooked the surface of the meat.
The outside turned a nice golden brown, a little oil rose to the surface, and a savory aroma spread.
A few of the hatchlings who had been tearing into raw meat nearby lifted their heads.
I spoke immediately.
“This is mine.”
The hatchlings drooped their heads in disappointment.
“You guys eat raw meat just fine.”
Pii…
“If you’re unhappy, go wash your front paws and bring a plate.”
No one came.
Apparently bringing a plate was more troublesome.
I sliced the meat with a stone knife and put a piece in my mouth.
“Oh.”
Alduin’s golden eyes sparkled.
“It didn’t burn today.”
Rrr.
“That was a compliment.”
Alduin looked extremely satisfied.
The canyon was noisy.
The sound of adult dragons tearing into raw meat.
The sound of hatchlings squabbling over their portions.
The sound of Masor slicing dangerous bones.
The sound of Gargantua’s wings lowering the wind above the canyon.
The sound of Alduin sitting beside me and pressing down on his own enormous piece of meat with a front paw.
It was all so familiar.
So familiar that for a while, I didn’t immediately notice how strange it was.
I ate another piece of meat.
It had cooled a little.
I tapped Alduin on the snout.
“Warm it up just a bit more.”
Krr.
Alduin carefully breathed out again.
The meat grew warm once more.
I smiled faintly as I watched.
The King of Dragons was warming my meat.
Even after five hundred years, this was still pretty funny.
It was then.
Something very small…
Caught my attention.
I stopped chewing.
The feeding grounds were still noisy.
There was plenty of meat, the dragons were hungry, and the young ones were still eyeing others’ portions.
Nothing seemed different from usual.
Yet something felt wrong.
I slowly raised my head.
To the left of the feeding grounds.
Beneath the shadow of a large rock.
There was always one who sat in that spot.
A dragon with reddish-brown scales, black patterns running down its neck, the one who would stare at other children’s meat before even touching its own during mealtime.
When it was small, it had tried to stick its nose into my stone pot and gotten scolded by Alduin. When it grew a little, it would always drool at the smell of the meat Alduin roasted for me. Even after becoming an adult, it would without fail sit in the shadow of that rock every mealtime.
That spot was empty.
At first I thought it had simply moved somewhere else.
There were so many dragons, and no matter how wide the feeding grounds were, they occasionally changed seats.
But no.
This was the one who would run over first whenever it smelled meat.
The one who would always rush straight to the sea-scented meat whenever Gargantua brought it and bury its nose in it.
Today there was even that gigantic fish.
Yet it wasn’t there.
I slowly scanned the entire feeding grounds.
Beside the black nest.
Not there.
Near the water pool.
Not there.
At the entrance to the training ground.
Not there.
The spot behind the hatchlings where it used to hide to get a second helping.
Not there.
The piece of meat in my hand grew cold.
Alduin noticed and tried to breathe on it again.
I raised my hand.
“Wait.”
Alduin stopped.
He had heard my voice drop.
First, Alduin’s eyes changed.
“Krrrrr…”
Next was Masor.
Masor, who had been cutting bones below the feeding grounds, lifted its head.
Rustle.
Gargantua’s three pairs of eyes also slowly descended from above the canyon.
At first the surrounding dragons didn’t notice.
The adults were still tearing into their meat, and one hatchling had tripped while trying to drag a bone bigger than its own body.
But when Alduin stopped moving, the noise gradually decreased.
When Masor stopped moving, several adults raised their heads.
When Gargantua’s wings stopped, the wind in the canyon grew still.
In the end, the entire feeding grounds fell silent.
I set the meat down on the stone slab.
“One.”
My voice wasn’t loud.
Yet it spread throughout the entire canyon.
I looked at the empty shadow beneath the rock.
A single untouched piece of meat still lay there.
Probably a hatchling had brought it and left it untouched, thinking the owner would come.
Dragons had that kind of unspoken understanding among themselves.
Who liked which meat.
Who ate in which spot.
Who should be left a portion if they were late.
I stared at the empty spot and spoke slowly.
“One is missing.”
A low rumble rose from inside Alduin’s throat.
Krrrrr…
Masor’s scales gave a tiny shiver.
Rustle.
Gargantua’s shadow stretched long across the feeding grounds.
The canyon, which had been noisy and peaceful just moments ago, suddenly held its breath.
I roughly wiped the oil from my hands and stood up.
“Has anyone seen them?”
No one cried out.
That silence was the answer.
I looked at the empty spot once more.
And for the first time, I noticed the very faint scent of burning mixed in with the smell of today’s meal.
“…An egg.”
Alduin immediately lowered his body.
I left the cooled meat behind and grabbed onto his scales.
“Let’s go.”
This was an emergency.