A Collection of Lone Dancer Writings.

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Snow of the purest white crunched underneath his claws. The same snow was also in the air, and one fluttered down onto his snout. Tundra shook his head, a resonating tinkling sound emitting from his neck. He took in a deep breath of the burning cold air, but it didn’t bother him. His complexion of ice and snow rendered him immune to such things.

He stood o’er on a frozen overhang, guarding over a quaint forest of frost and lichen. The trees below were carved with various initials and sigils.

Tundra stepped down to add his own. After all, he finally found it.


Tundra enjoyed the aroma of frosted pine, the rough-barked turned smooth over the years. It felt nice against his crystalline talons. He traced his claw around the circular yet jagged symbol, a draconian letter in the center. Beside it was a crude heart and another initial. The rest of the tree was covered in similar carvings.

He moved to the next tree, which held various pictograms. Some of them were not dragonet friendly and made Tundra chuckle, which echoed ethereally through this little forest, hidden amongst the mountains and snow.

Finally, he found an empty spot on an old and gnarled tree, close to the center of this mystical place. Little rocks circled the bases of these ancient pines and other evergreens.

His icy talon dug slightly into the barren patch, and he wrote a jagged yet elegant T into the bark. He smiled to himself. Three months of journeying well spent.

Filled with satisfaction, Tundra turned around, and left this quaint little forest, nameless, and only told about in stories.


Tundra stood at the base of the snowy mountains, which reached towards the skies like frozen claws. In his own claws was a clump of snow he mindless bunched up. Light refracted through the ice to make kaleidoscopic patterns in his shadow. The smell of evergreens was intense, thanks to many forests huddling around the mountains for protection against the freezing north wind. Tundra stretched, the resonating tinkling sound emitting from his neck, and echoing out through the mountain pass. He took in a deep breath of the frozen air, enjoying the cold breeze. Ice nor snow nor freezing cold affected him, for he was part of it. He brushed off some of the snow that collected onto his back when a blizzard flew by overheard, on dark clouds, angry pillows of snow.

Tundra decided it was time to take the first steps, and into the lands beyond. Behind these mountains were places he’s never seen, only heard. Places were cold did not reign supreme, and where trees other than those of evergreen and lichen flourished. He might even see a flower. But before he took a step, to a new journey, he hesitated. He was leaving behind all he ever known, but he firmed up his resolution. He left his mark here, in the unnamed forest, in it’s carved up trees. No matter what happened ahead, a small part would still live on.

Tundra spread out his crystalline wings of ice, and took flight. The snow below lit up in patterns of refracted light, changing with every wing beat, as he soared higher and higher. And o’er the mountains he went. Into the lands beyond.


Tundra stared at the piece of parchment in his hands, reading through the information within. He couldn’t believe it’s lies and blasphemy. It said cheese was in fact, not a color. Of course, this was a great and obvious lie, as cheese was not only a color, it was the best color. In the whole universe. The dragon in front of him shuffled uncomfortable, squirming underneath Tundra’s judging gaze.

“What. Is. This?” Tundra grated out each word, staring back to the seemingly shrinking nightwing, looking back between him, and the scroll he gave him. A cold mist was already slowing exuding from his body, showcasing his displeasure.

“Oh, it was just a joke my good sir, just a joke.” The nightwing rambled on nervously. Other dragons ambled on mindlessly, too caught up in their own business to mind others. The scent of spices irritated Tundra’s nose, and it was hot here. He stared some more, and when the sun peaked through the clouds, light refracted into the nightwing’s eye.

“Oi! Move it ya Cryon, yer blinding the rest of us!” A sandwing tossed a twig at him. Tundra was in the spotlight now, and sulked away, muttering about cheese and colors. Business went on as usual, except dragons where shielding their eyes when he passed by, grumbling about fancy magic ice dragons and their shiny nature.

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