When to Let Go

Mature Content
This page may contain profanity, violence, mild gore, or other forms of mature content.
This is a fanfiction written for this contest.  
***Notice: This story contains mentions of a loss of a loved one and dream-like sequences. Some readers may be sensitive to these topics. Any advice given to a character is not meant to be applicable in the real world.*** 
== Prologue ==
All around him, the camp was getting ready for battle.
Every dragon was up, cooking meals over the fire, checking supplies, or practicing with their siblings. The field they had rested in was bright in the early dawn, earth and grass wet from the dew. A few older generals were surveying from atop a nearby hill, their gaze stoic. Mongoose grinned with excitement.
He loved battles.
It was the one thing he was good at. He wasn't motherly like Duck. He wasn't thoughtful like Beaver. He wasn't energetic like Lily Pad or Sunfish.
But he could fight.
Out of his siblings, he was the only one that actually listened to their trainers. His siblings were strong enough to survive, but Mongoose knew the refinements of battle; positions, weapons, and strategies. He obeyed the generals eagerly, and was usually up at dawn, practicing almost constantly. Mongoose was the last to go to bed at night, and the strongest of his siblings. He could even defeat some of the soldiers. So he wasn't worried.
The plan was simple: ambush a supply trail and seize control. The Seawings didn't have access to bandages and medical supplies, rather, they relied on their Sandwing allies to provide for them, since no herbs grew on their islands. It would be an in-and-out operation.
Unforunately, the Seawings were waiting for them.
Fighting was fierce. He had never liked airborne fighting. Rain had begun to pelt down across the beach and cliffs beyond. Mongoose was shooting fire at his opponents, lashing his tail to knock those behind him out of the air. A Seawing, green, with huge wings, was clawing at his own wings; he ripped her off with a snarl. His wings had several rips in them, and he began to lose height as he continued to fight. Blasting another wave of flame at the Seawings, he turned to help his siblings.
Mongoose watched, as if in slow motion, as Duck turned to her sibs, grinning wearily in encouragement. A blue Seawing, noticing this, darted through the sky, stopping to hover behind Duck. Grabbing her horns, the Seawing smiled wickedly at Mongoose before cracking Duck's neck.
"No!"
A cry rung through the air as Beaver, who was fighting next to Mongoose, dove to meet Duck's body, drifting downward. Lily Pad, their little sister, watched in horror, her eyes wide before another Seawing lashed at her, and she turned to resume battle. Beaver was below the fight, on the sand, cradling Duck's head. "No! Duck!" Mongoose heard Beaver shriek.
Rage pulsing within him, Mongoose pumped his wings, chasing after the blue Seawing. He saw him fighting with another sibling group. Without waiting for him to turn around, Mongoose slammed into his backside, clawing at his wings and hissing. The Seawing roared with pain and surprise. Not relenting, Mongoose shot fire at the Seawing's snout, ignoring the other Mudwing's shocked looks. The Seawing tried once more to break free, flapping his wings feebly. Mongoose growled, and promptly slit his throat, before letting his body fall onto the sand. Flying towards Duck's body, he moaned with pain and regret.
He didn't remember the flight back. It had started to rain, softly, hitting against their wings and washing away the blood of smaller wounds. His tears flowed freely with it. 
It was the only time he'd cried.
They got back to camp by dusk, their battalion wounded and slow. The dragons too young or old to fight rushed to help. Instead of the lively banter of the camp in the morning, there was solemn silence and quiet conversation as dragons cried, mourned, or tended to the wounded.
Sunfish, who was too young to fight, jumped up as they joined him by the bonfire. "How was it? Did it work? What were the Seawings like?" He looked over their faces, covered in dried blood and tears. Quieter, he said, "Where's Duck?"
Beaver sat down glumly, not looking at the younger Mudwing. Lily Pad smiled sadly before glancing down at her talons, she too evading his gaze. Mongoose frowned before sitting down with Sunfish, who was looking at his siblings quizzically.
"Sunfish," a sigh, sad and slow. "Duck is dead."
==Chapter One==
Alone, on a darkened beach, Beaver felt afraid.
Glancing around, he saw the beach stretched in every direction, farther than he could see. A soft rain started down from the clouds, falling onto Beaver's brown wings and scales, forming rivulets that cascaded down his scales. He tipped his snout towards the sky, wondering if he should fly away.
There was a sudden whoosh of wind behind him, as if thousands of butterflies were taking off at once. He whipped around. He was still alone. A warm wing was suddenly draped over his shoulder, but when he turned to see who it was, he found only air.
His heartbeat quickening, Beaver backed up, his wings tenting him from the rain that was still coming, the rhythmic pats slightly calming him. Just as he was going to investigate, he saw a flash of blue behind him. He froze in fear as a Seawing appeared beside him, its features twisted into a snarl. Beaver ducked and smacked him with his tail, feeling it pass through cold air. He turned again, and only saw the rain, beating down harder. 
Shivering, Beaver sat on the damp earth, wrapping his tail tightly around his talons. Any sounds he heard, he firmly ignored. Pulling his wings closer to him, he huddled for warmth, eyes darting around the area. 
A tail smacked him in the face, warm and very much real. Beaver opened his eyes. Lily Pad, his sister, as sitting on his head. "Beaver?" She whispered, her amber scales glimmering gently in the firelight. He sat up, knocking Lily Pad off his snout. Glancing around, he saw that he was in camp, surrounded by other sibling groups all gathered around a bonfire. Several dragons were up, exchanging words or keeping watch. He looked to his right. Sunfish, his littlest brother, was sleeping soundly, wings spread over his legs like a blanket. Mongoose, his oldest brother, was also sleeping, though his expression conveyed a sense of pain. Lily Pad gently whacked his wing, beckoning him away from the bonfire. He sighed quietly, stretching his wings and legs, cramped from sleep, before following. When they stopped on a far hill, Lily Pad burst with words.
"I'm sorry I got you up, Beaver. I couldn't sleep. I just kept seeing... well, you know. When I saw you, you were twitching, and I know you twitch when you're dreaming. So, I got you up." she said, looking over his snout for his reaction. 
Beaver sighed, but gazed at Lily Pad gratefully. "Thanks," he whispered, smiling faintly. Turning back towards the bonfire, now a small blaze from the hill, he looked down. "I had the nightmare again."
Lily Pad made a sympathetic noise. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"
"It's always the same. Same beach, rain, the noises. And the Seawing. I see him every night."
Baring her teeth, Lily Pad growled. "I see him too. Him and his smug blue snout. But he's gone. Mongoose made sure of that."
Beaver looked towards his sister, her features outlined in a silver light from the moon. Sliding a wing over her back, Lily Pad smiled sadly, tears brimming in her eyes. Her voice shook as she whispered, "I miss Duck so much. She was such a good bigwings."
He sighed, remembering. The way she would listen for hours, offering advice and telling jokes to cheer them up. The way she would stay up with them when they had nightmares about the war. The way she fought so hard to protect them.
Lily Pad was still talking, quieter now. "I mean, Mongoose was already hardcore, but after Duck, he became rigid. And Sunfish, he has night terrors again. I always tell him that Duck isn't gone, that she's just ascended." The smaller Mudwing sighed, shifting under her brother's wing. "I just wish she was here."
Beaver laid on the cool grass, still gazing into the dark night. Dragonflies and other insects buzzed around them, soothing them with their gentle humming. Lily Pad set her head on Beaver, closing her eyes sadly, her breathing slowing slightly. Still murmuring, she whispered, "I'll protect you, like Duck did."
"Me too," Beaver whispered back, his voice barely heard. "Me too."
==Chapter Two==
The bright morning sun shone cheerfully into Beaver's eyes. He awoke slowly, opening his eyes and shifting himself into a more comfortable position. Lily Pad laid against him, sleeping in the shadow of his wing. Beaver continued to lay there, thinking, not wanting to disturb her. Below him, down the hill, the Mudwing camp was waking up. Dragons were flying in the soft morning light, and the smell of smoke from the bonfires punctured the breeze, making Beaver snort. Lily Pad stirred, and opened her eyes.
"Good morning, Beaver!" She said, yawning. She smiled at him before looking around the hill, eyes widening as she surveyed camp. "I guess we fell asleep here," she said, a bit more sheepishly. Standing and shaking the dew off her wings, Lily Pad prepared to take off, surveying the air and testing for breezes. Muttering, she said, "Mongoose is probably furious."
The flight back was hurried. Lily Pad darted out in front of Beaver, looking down at the valley. Bonfires dotted the area below them; one for each sibling group. Beaver watched as she glanced over the crowd, trying to find their group from above. A few dragons raised their heads as their shadows passed, but relaxed when they saw their brown wings. Other Mudwings weren't a threat.
Lily Pad spotted them, and extended a talon to help Beaver. Sunfish was sitting near their fire, a small blaze, but Mongoose was active and moving, circling the bonfire like a predator to prey. He looked up at them, his face darkening. Lily Pad sighed before swooping down to the flame.
Sunfish blinked at them when they glided in, but said nothing. He sat, smiling at them through tired eyes. "Good morning," he said, more wearily than Lily Pad had. Looking at their big brother, his smile turned rueful. "Good luck," he added. Mongoose was pacing, his eyes dark. Beside him, his tail was lashing in contained rage.
"After Duck's gone, my two younger siblings run off, in the middle of the night, without telling us?" He growled, his voice quiet and dangerous.
Lily Pad jumped in, her claws curling in defensive anger. "We both had nightmares, and couldn't sleep. We only went to the hill."
"A Seawing could've ambushed you! Or taken you prisoner!" His growl became louder. "This is war! We need to remain vigilant!" Glancing around, he was suddenly aware of the attention he was bringing. He relented with a sigh. In a sadder tone, he added, "We can't afford another loss."
Beaver ducked his head, ashamed of his thoughtlessness, and in submission to his older brother. While Lily Pad often fought back, Beaver was willing to compromise. He had noticed his brother become more hostile, more focused. He often talked about his training, and would include Beaver making him practice a move for hours.
Sunfish brightened, changing the subject. "Lily Pad, Stag and Aquifer were looking for you. They say to meet them near their bonfire."
Lily Pad smiled at him, whacking his wing playfully. "Thanks, little bro. Do you want to come?" She asked.
Sunfish nodded, and they padded off. Beaver called after them. "Say hi for me!" Lily Pad waved her talons in response. Beaver took it as a yes.
Mongoose snapped his talons, getting Beaver's attention. "Beaver, want to join me for my morning drills?"
"Um..." Beaver smiled awkwardly, not wanting to turn him down. Ducking his head, Beaver inwardly groaned. The drills could last for hours, until lunch. They never failed to make him sore.
Mongoose nodded curtly. "Great. Let's go to a less crowded place," he said, looking around the camp. Dragons milled about, talking and eating. Mongoose spread his wings, taking off and flying out of camp, flicking his tail at Beaver. With slight hesitation, Beaver followed, feeling himself breathe a defeated sigh.
The forest was close to camp; it was only a few minutes away by flight. Dragons used it for hunting, training and talking, whenever they wanted to get away from their sibs. The trees were large and densely packed together, accompanied by a shallow creek bed that carved a line through the forest. It fed into a small bog near the encampment that they would use to gather water and hunt alligators. The leaves were a bright green that blended together as you were flying, and the forest stretched, allegedly, into the rainforest. Beaver wondered dimly if a Rainwing had ever been spotted in the forest.
Mongoose veered into an open spot, strangely sparse of trees. He waited impatiently for Beaver to land, before heading to another grove of trees that looked like cones. Pine trees. Mongoose's favorite to practice on. The wood was softer, while still being tough. They used them often for targets.
Mongoose picked up a dried reed, stiff and as long as his arm. He poked the tree with it, testing it's strength. Satisfied, he turned to Beaver.
"We're going to practice aerial, claw-to-claw combat today. This tree is your enemy. Strike it with your wings out, standing on your back talons. That should be close to the posture used when flying."
Raising himself on his back legs, Beaver struck the wood with his right talons, puncturing the bark and sending a jolt of pain up his arm. He held out his wings far from his body.
Mongoose poked him with the reed, pushing his wings closer to his body. "Keep your wings close, so enemies can't drag you out of the air."
Suppressing a sigh, he did as he was told, holding his wings more over his body and shoulders. He saw Mongoose almost impercievably shake his head in slight disappointment.
The reed poked him again, harder this time, correcting his posture.
"Claws should come first, not your wings! That gives the enemy targets to strike." Mongoose ordered. Beaver fumbled to obey, holding his wings further back so his claws came first. Mongoose walked around his once before sighing. "At this rate, we'll never get to spar. Also, your wings are too far. You'd sink out of the air."
Mongoose drew Beaver's claws down, making him look at his example. Striking the tree that Beaver had managed to puncture, Mongoose raked his talons down the bark, his wings shielding his body. Pausing, he allowed Beaver to examine him, his posture rigid and powerful.
"See, the wings should be over the stomach, but not above the shoulders." Mongoose added, relaxing his pose. Beaver tried to recreate his example, but his shoulders had begun aching. He could see the deep marks that Mongoose had just added to the tree, and tried not to show his amazement. After a few moments, Mongoose allowed him to relax. Frowning, he said tiredly, "Lets just build your endurance first."
Beaver sighed as Mongoose flew straight up, out of the forest. His strong figure easily surpassed Beaver's as he continued to fly upwards, pumping his wings. The trees became more uniform, the forest becoming more of a whole, as they struggled. Beaver felt himself getting heavier, but he forced his wings to continue pumping. Mongoose turned to see him, a look of concentration on his face. Seeing his brother start to slow, Mongoose stopped, surveying Beaver with concern. His wings were fumbling in the air, trying to get him to hover. Beaver started to drift downwards, his eyes filled with frustration and strain. With a small curse, Mongoose soared downwards, under his brother, and escorted him to the ground.
A burning sensation had filled his shoulders and wings. Beaver whimpered, laying on the forest floor. Mongoose ignored him, stretching his own wings. After a while, he addressed Beaver.
"That is a great tactic for dealing with Seawings, and Icewings. Icewings have all of their spikes to weigh them down, and the Seawings don't like to be away from the water. For both, you can get them up there and shoot fire at them, overwhelming them and isolating them."
This was met with a groan from Beaver. Mongoose poked him with the reed. "You need to listen. Even though they're our allies, you should be ready. Never do that with a Skywing. They can fly faster than you and shoot hotter fire. You'll be the one overwhelmed with them."
Beaver looked up at his brother, his eyes filled with reproach. Wincing, he rose to sitting position, his breathing becoming more regular. He rolled his shoulders, flinching at the protest of his joints. Glancing at the sun, Mongoose started to walk away, seemingly unconcerned with Beaver.
After a while, Mongoose offered his talons to Beaver, helping him to his feet. "Good job," he said, smiling at Beaver's wheezes. "We can stand to improve." He added, his grin bigger now. "Come on, it's time for lunch," he called. Then, with a chuckle, "But you'll be sore tomorrow."
"Always am," Beaver breathes, spreading his wings slowly and painfully. Mongoose had taken off, his brown figure dark against the morning sunlight. Flapping cautiously, Beaver ignored the small jolts of pain as he followed his brother back to camp.
== Chapter Three ==
Three more Mudwings stood with Beaver's siblings, laughing with each other as they played.
Stag, Aquifer, and Quagmire: their closest friends. As the oldest brother, Quagmire was the bigwings. He had a quiet authority that Beaver admired. Stag and Aquifer were younger, and almost never seen apart. Mischievous, the sisters would often drag Lily Pad into their pranks, causing small outbreaks of mayhem every few days. Everyone needed the distraction, however, so they were never reprimanded.
"Beaver, Mongoose!" Quagmire called, his voice loud over the din of the camp. Walking over to them, away from his sisters, he smiled. "How are you?"
Mongoose held himself slightly higher, in respect to the fellow soldier. "We're okay. We just got back from our drills," he said, glancing at Beaver, whose wings drooped tiredly.
Quagmire nodded. "Good for you," he said, still smiling. He ducked his head gently and addressed Beaver. "Still having the nightmares?"
His stomach tightened at the mention of his nightmares. It had been 2 months since Duck died, and they had gone into 3 battles without her. He only nodded, averting the older Mudwing's gaze.
Quagmire sighed softly, twining his tail with Beaver's in support. "There may be a way to help that," he whispered, then glanced back to his sisters. They were talking hurriedly, heads bent together, as Mongoose gazed at them with annoyance. Turning back to Beaver, he gave a small smile before walking over to the group. "Mongoose?"
He turned to Quagmire. "Yeah?" Mongoose responded, eyes hovering back and forth him and Beaver.
"Beaver and I will go hunt. We'll be back soon."
Regarding them with a neutral look, Mongoose nodded. "Okay. Remember, Beaver, fly up if ambushed."
"We'll be safe. Be back shortly." Quagmire answered, taking his response in stride. He turned and spread his wings, taking off slowly and flying towards the forest. Beaver followed him, gritting his teeth against his aching shoulders. The ground beneath him became less open and more compact, trees crowding along the creek bed. The green blurred past him, before he slowed, pausing as Quagmire dove into a clearing. Gliding down himself, Beaver landed beside him, folding his wings. The older Mudwing walked, without a word, into the tree cover, motioning for Beaver to walk beside him.
"Tell me about the nightmare." He offered, still striding along the forest floor.
Beaver felt a twinge of sorrow in his chest as he began. "I'm on the beach that we fought above. It's dark, and raining. There is always the warm, unknown wing, the mysterious whoosh, and the vision of the Seawing." At the thought of the Seawing, Beaver felt his talons curl dangerously. "I hate him," he whispered softly.
Quagmire said nothing, a thoughtful look in his eyes. Beaver was suddenly reminded that Quagmire had lost three siblings to the war. That he was acquainted to loss. They walked in silence for a while before he spoke.
"They're probably based off of memories. The setting, the beach, is obvious. It's where the last memory took place. The Seawing is obvious also." Tilting his head in thought, he squinted into the distance. Finally, he turned back to Beaver. "What about the warm wing? Any memories relating to that?"
It was Beaver's turn to be silent. He searched within his memories, ignoring the growing sense of pain when he thought about Duck. Duck was so motherly, and he had a lot of memories of her support. One, however, struck him with certainty.
"It was before my first battle. Duck was four, Mongoose and I were three. Mongoose was stronger, though, and a few months older. I was so scared. Mongoose said we would be fighting somewhere cold, and I knew dragons who had lost sibs in the war." Realizing as soon as he said it, Beaver looked towards Quagmire apologetically. "Sorry. I didn't mean to offend." He looked down sheepishly before continuing. "I was crying, and I didn't want to go. Duck came over, and tented a wing over me. She said, 'With this wing, and all that I am, I will protect you. It will be okay.' We sat like that for a few minutes before the camp moved out. She was so supportive." 
He didn't remember when the tears filled his eyes, but his vision was suddenly blurry with them. Quagmire nodded sympathetically. "I assume the whooshing has a connection to a memory too?"
"Yeah. That was when Sunfish was learning to fly. Duck was teaching him, and she playfully challenged me to a race. Mongoose was off training, so I said yes. She let me win, and I remember Sunfish's excitement, and Duck's small smile as I whooshed past her."
Quagmire met Beaver's eyes, locking his own brown eyes onto his amber ones. "You need to let go of the memories. Don't forget them, but understand that they are a thing of the past."
Beaver looked away, ducking his head in understanding. "How do I let go without forgetting?"
A sigh, but not a pitying one. "Remember them fondly, and as often as you like. Don't avoid them. And allow yourself to realize that they are only memories. Don't cling to them, and don't use them to compare it to life without Duck. Remember them as beautiful moments, but let them go as expectations or comparisons."
Thinking of the memories, he allowed himself to be happy with them. He sat in the silence, letting his mind wander. He experienced the memories, moved through them, and tried not to feel bitter about his reality. Duck wasn't gone. In this new reality, he couldn't see her, but he had memories. Memories that didn't hurt him anymore.
"Thanks, Quagmire." Beaver said simply, walking on through the forest. They continued their stroll, going nowhere in particular. 
Eventually, they returned to camp, Quagmire carrying a boar. The day passed in a blur. Stag, Lily Pad and Aquifer had sprinkled some herbs on top of Mongoose's portion, making his breath smell terrible. They collapsed into giggles whenever he talked to them. The day turned into evening, and their friends went back to their own bonfire. They all settled down to rest, in a big family pile like they always do. 
"Good night," Beaver whispered. He got a few snores in response. Smiling, Beaver closed his eyes.
There were no nightmares that night.
Category:Fanfictions
Category:Fanfictions (Semi-Canon)
Category:Mature Content
Category:Fanfictions (Completed)
Category:Genre (Tragedy)
Category:Genre (Short Story)
Category:Content (Creatively UnSuRe)