Phoenix had been fighting with himself for the better of a week. Something inside of him had cracked, and suddenly he wanted to do the very thing Marigold avoided: find and build relationships with other dragons. "Marigold," he approached her one day. "Yes, Phoenix?" "Why don't we ever... talk to other dragons?" "I've told you over a hundred times, Phoenix," Marigold stiffened. "Other dragons are just awful. It was another dragon who gave me this." Marigold pointed to the rather horrifying scar she had on her neck, the underside of her neck. Phoenix had seen the scar, but Marigold would never give him the full details of why she had it. "Other dragons aren't like me," Marigold continued, "they like to kill and maim, it's in dragon blood. They're selfish and greedy, too." "But all dragons can't be like that, can they?" Phoenix refused to give up. "Well, I'm not about to get killed looking for a nicer dragon," Marigold scoffed. "But--" "Why are you suddenly asking all of these questions, Phoenix?" Marigold's voice took an alarming tone. "I want to live with other dragons," he blurted. Marigold's eyes widened as she rose, walked over to Phoenix, and looked him right in the eyes. "What did you say? After I raised you to keep you safe, you want to throw it all away?" "N-no, Goldie..." Phoenix stammered, suddenly feeling guilty. He didn't want to throw away anything Marigold had given him, without her, he'd be dead, after all. Realization flashed across Marigold's expression. "It's the scrolls." Phoenix was not good at lying, or at hiding his true expression, and so his face told on him. "Well," Marigold said, "I thought this wouldn't happen. I thought I was simply giving you something to do, not making you want to practically go marching to death." "Goldie--" "The answer is no, Phoenix. You are not to go beyond our hunting places. You'll just get lost out there." "And who's fault is that?" Unknown anger was rising in Phoenix and he wasn't used to it. "Who's fault is it that I don't know anything about the world around me?!" "I am PROTECTING you," Marigold sneered. "With your disability, you wouldn't last a day in the harsh reality of Pyrrhia." "I can still walk and fly. I may be slower than other dragons, but I can manage." "You don't get a chance to be slow in Pyrrhia, Phoenix! A slow dragon is a dead dragon! And what's worse, we're in a war right now! MudWings and some SandWings are the only ones who may not look at you and kill you on the spot!" Phoenix had no argument to that. Would he really die that quickly out there? "It is that bad, Phoenix," Marigold answered Phoenix's unasked question. "But there have to be good things about the outside as well," Phoenix shot back. "You're not telling me everything! You used to explore Pyrrhia all the time!" "Yes, and always during war! I'm only fifteen years old, the war started twenty years ago! I was born into it and through my many travels, I've been captured, fought, threatened. I don't want that for you!" "You can't decide for me, I'm almost full-grown!" "Not yet, you're not! You're a dragonet, you're MY dragonet!" Phoenix felt tears running down his face. He never cried, not even when Marigold told him his egg was tossed off of a cliff. He'd never fought with Marigold ever. He just wanted her to understand him. She turned her back to him and he went back to his bed and lie down bringing his disaligned wings around to cover his eyes. "I love you, Phoenix," he heard Marigold say from a distance. I love you too, he thought, I just can't stay with you. -- Phoenix studied one of his many maps. Marigold hadn't taken the scrolls from him, she found it useless, since he already soaked all the information into his brain. He knew that he and Marigold lived somewhere between Burn's Stronghold and the Scorpion Den. He knew where he was going first. The Sky Kingdom. From the map, it looked as if it would take days to get there, so for the next few days Phoenix had taken one of Marigold's old baskets and kept a secret stash of fruits he would find. He knew he couldn't hide meat, it would eventually spoil and not only be inedible, but be smelly enough for Marigold to find. He didn't find much fruit for his stash, a couple plums and a peach was all. It wasn't easy to find much where he and Marigold lived, and he had to venture out farther to find what fruit he did have, and it was harder that way, because he risked Marigold being suspicious. But after a week of hiding food and charting paths, Marigold still hadn't caught on to Phoenix's plans. He still felt bad about leaving her, but he knew she'd never listen to his reasons. -- And so one night, while Marigold was sleeping, Phoenix dropped the note he wrote next to her, picked his basket up with his good front talon, spread his wings, and flew off into the desert night.
