Dry twigs and chunks of dirt crackled under her paws. Little thorns dug into the soft spots between her pads, and she kept having to stop and pull them out with her teeth. But there was no other way for her to travel. The tiny wings on her back were useless, and they would remain that way for another few centuries. Staring wistfully at the sky, Kitten crooned.
She wished someone could understand. How she wanted to grow up! To be able to talk, to fly! She was Skysong, wasn't she? A proud dragon, meant to be soaring the skies for centuries. Or was she just little Kit, Daine and Numair's beloved dragonet? She never wanted to grow old without them, but she knew it would happen someday. She would still be Kitten long after they were gone.
Whistling like Tkaa had taught her, Kitten made up a melody. Maybe no one could hear it. But she sang it to the sky that would be hers when all her other friends had left her behind.