A Brother’s Love

By Andrew Hayes and Daniel Gomez

“C’mon slowpoke, hurry up. We’re almost there,” Shard called, scrambling ahead. Her claws trampled over the fallen pines.

“Would you slow down?” Krag wheezed. His crooked wing trailed behind him like a torn sail. Why did she always have to rush ahead? As her older brother, shouldn’t he be leading her?

They emerged from the frosty woods. Shard gasped, “Oh, look.”

The majestic mountain range pierced an overcast sky through billowing gray cotton clouds. Like everything else in this frozen world, a blanket of snow cloaked the jagged peaks. Before the siblings, the cliff broke off several dragon-lengths away—the last sight before the endless expanse of thick dark fog.

“I never agreed to come here,” Krag complained, wincing at his broken wing, its platinum gray scales deformed by small holes.

“Wow,” Shard started again, “you can really see the drop from here.”

At that moment, he watched as her stout legs took off once more, barreling ever faster toward the cliff. At the last second, Shard spread her little wings to slow herself and skidded to a stop, teetering just past the bluff.

Krag pulled up behind her. “Would you please not do that?”

She giggled, “Oh, that’s right. Of all the creatures on this tundra, I had to get the scaredy brother who couldn’t fly. You’re supposed to be stronger and braver. You’re not being a very good older brother.”

It was true. Ever since the accident which left his wing warped, Krag wasn’t much of an adventurer.

Glancing down, Krag muttered, “Look, you’re too young to fly, and well, I can’t. I know you said you’ve been here before, but that was with Dad. Let’s be a little safer since he’s not here; back up.”

“What, back up? No way. You can really feel the breeze with your scales out like this, try it.”

“Shard, please.”

The little dragon danced about, laughing and sticking one leg over the edge.

“Hey, it’s not funny, Shard. Back up.”

“Just lighten up. Have a bit of fun. It’s not even dangerous.” She stomped the ground. “This cliff is just something the parents squawk about. It’s not gonna—”

The sheet gave out, and the young hatchling dropped out of sight.

“Shard!” Krag craned his neck over the side, horrified of what he would see.

Maniacal laughter spat in his face.

About twenty feet below, his brat of a sister lay sprawled out on a smaller ledge, tousled, but safe.

“My gosh, your face, it’s priceless.” Shard squealed, rolling around in a fit of hysteria. “Now help me up.”

With a sigh of annoyance and relief, Krag kneeled and stretched out his rugged arm.

“It won’t reach, Popsicle-head. Climb down and get me.”

Krag never appreciated when his sister bossed him around. He was older, but she always knew how to exploit his love and use her vulnerability to get what she wanted.

But she was safe. He just had to grab her and carry her back up. Then they would go home. He wouldn’t roll the dice again.

Krag clambered down, dropping next to his sister.

“Took you long enough.” Shard smirked. “Do you think if I jump and spread my wings, I could glide over to that other side?”

Suddenly, the ledge splintered from the shelf, and the two plummeted into the dismal void.

Krag’s stomach lurched into his throat. The frigid air whipped around him, muffling his screams.

“Krag, help!” A distant cry wailed.

Krag had to do something. But what?

The wind whistled through his punctured wing, a grim reminder of his inadequacy. He sunk his sharp talons into the cliff face, but they barely scratched the wall. He tried freezing his claws onto the rock with his icy breath, but his tumble through the mist was too violent, and the ice shattered.

“Krag!”

He panicked as he saw the labyrinth of jagged rocks and unending frozen spikes at the bottom of the bluff. He and his sister were going to become dragon shish kebabs. He had no other choice; he could not let his sister die.

His heart froze, and his fear vanished with a newfound surge of power. A cold frost spread from his heart throughout his whole body, hardening his scales and turning them pure white. The cold spread to his wings, encapsulating his wounds with a frigid membrane that shimmered like a freshly-formed icicle. His claws gained jagged edges, and a strange, blue crystalline hue covered his eyes.

He spread his dazzling, ice-glazed wings and roared like an avalanche. He glanced to his left—his wounds now sealed by the edged ice—the whistling ceased, and he found himself aloft, rising, beating his wings through the chilly air.

Krag plunged into the abyss, wings now tucked closely to his body. As he nosedived through the haze, he caught sight of a writhing silhouette frantically flapping, trying to keep herself aloft. He caught up with his sister and grasped her with all four talons. Spreading his wings, he strained to slow their descent, but their bodies still collided painfully with the frozen, unforgiving ground, barely missing a giant ice stalagmite.

“Krag, you flew. How did you do that?”

“I don’t know. I was worried that you would die, and suddenly I felt super cold, and it healed my wounds, and I could fly.”

She ran over and buried her tear-soaked face in his frosty shoulder.

“What was I thinking? I should have listened to you, then we fell, but you saved me, and…”

“And now you’re safe, and that’s what matters.”

Krag embraced his little sister, determined to keep her safe for as long as he lived.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Andrew Hayes and Daniel Gomez are both freshmen students at St. Stephen’s Academy. Andrew enjoys riding horses, leading his scout troop, and playing The Legend of Zelda video game series. Daniel likes reading, drinking coffee, and also enjoys video games. Both Andrew and Daniel took a Creative Writing class, and have both enjoyed their growth in poem and story-writing.