It was not the first time the children have experienced Traveler's awe. With Glavas, they managed to visit places that often seemed so fascinatingly beautiful yet terrifyingly vast that silent staring was usually all they were at first capable of. In the case of the Skinscale dragon hive, however, the feelings were completely different. Just approaching this place made them feel horribly uneasy. The long walk through the drylands was exhausting, not to mention all the times when Alma managed to get her leg stuck in one of the cracks in the ground. Glavas and Surdi then always spend a rather long time setting her free, which only made the trip last longer. The heat was slowly becoming unbearable when their goal finally appeared on the horizon. There, in the distance, stood a dark structure, whose shape could only be described as a massive egg. Back then, it didn't look scary at all. That changed all too quickly. Now they found themselves standing at the base of the structure. This enormous black citadel was sitting quite literally in the middle of nowhere. One would surely say it was made of stone, but the way thorns and spikes were twisting out of the exterior, it almost seemed to be a plant. What kind of plant, was then a question that even the best botanist in Ezma wouldn't be able to answer.

[This is really the right place?] Surdi signed and eyed the massive gate built into the hive. When Glavas told him about visiting a dragon city, he got excited. For the first time in his life, he'd see a place where he would truly belong. Looking at it now, that enthusiasm was nowhere to be found.

"Yup, definitely the right one," Glavas assured the boy and knocked on the massive gate with the back of his gun. An eerie metal echo vibrated through the hive's lower chambers. The trio backed away slightly and waited, not exchanging a single word, until the gate slowly began opening.

A large muscular figure stepped outside. The enormous leaf hat they wore perfectly hid their face from both the prying eyes and the cruel heat of the sun. The fabric of their loose clothes flapped chaotically in the wind. The material must've been incredibly light because even though Alma's tunic was at least a size bigger than she'd need, the blowing air would hardly move it. Several strategically placed metal plates then served both as armor to protect the person's joints, and as clips to hold the wild clothing in place. The only thing indicating the creature's species were then their scaly hands and feet, sticking out of the sleeves and trousers. Scales of bright red color reflected the sunlight almost as if this dragon was made of metal. His left hand then rested on his belt where dangled a thin, curved, sheathed sword.

"Who might you be?" they spoke and slightly lifted the leaves making up his hat. Beneath them was the face of a middle-aged dragon. Unlike Surdi, whose face was longer and rounder, or, as Alma used to say, "very aerodynamic," this swordman's head was shorter, much more rectangular, and with countless small spikes sprouting from between the scales. Upon closer look, Surdi noticed the same tiny horns growing out of the back of the man's arms, and above his heels.

"We're friends of dragons, see?" Alma dove into the negotiations first and without any trouble, she lifted her adopted sibling off the ground, completely ignoring the fact that he was at least a head taller than her. Upon seeing that, Glavas' eyes widened and his previously prepared introduction faded into obscurity.

"Are you lost, boy?" the dragon asked. "Did you wander too far from the hive?"

[I...]

"No, he's not from a hive," Glavas finally snapped out of his initial shock and gestured to Alma to put him down. "He is my son," the hunter explained, which prompted the swordsman to eye him from head to toe. The slightly raised eyebrow indicated that he was probably wondering what sort of genetic code would allow an elf's offspring to be a dragon.

"He is adopted," Glavas added, which seemed to have answered the dragon's questions long before they were even asked. "He grew up among humans, was orphaned in a horrible accident, and I adopted him. And now, I am bringing him here. I thought he could see the local culture. Maybe experience what it actually means to be a dragon?"

The menacing gaze of the swordsman suddenly dissolved into nowhere as if evaporated by the sun. He took off his hat and finally let his hand fall off the hilt of his sword.

"Wow, I've heard so many stories, but this one is absolutely the most unusual one!" his voice thundered.

"It's true!" Glavas argued.

"Oh yeah, I believe you. I mean, I can see he's a dragon, and an aquatic one, which, hehe, well, just look around us. Where the hell would he come from in this draught? Tell me, boy, what is your name?"

[Surdi]

"Oh... Are you mute?"

[Deaf]

"Riiight. Wait... huh? But you... What?"

[I can see what you're saying. Magic helps. It's complicated.]

"OH! You're like Yurnir! He's blind but he can feel when something moves around him, so it's like he can see. Haha, magic is wonderful. And..." His eyes finally landed on Alma.

"Yes, I have white eyes. No, I'm not blind. Yes, I am bald by choice. The name is Alma, by the way. Was that everything you wanted to know?"

The man did a step back and looked over to Glavas. "I'm Glavas. Hunter for hire."

"Okay, that's the most normal part of the introduction," the man replied and rolled his eyes. "Pleased to meet you too. I'm Darmok." He straightened up and bowed slightly. "Apologies for approaching in such a hostile manner. Visitors don't exactly come here often. Anyway, shall we get you away from the sun before it cooks you alive?" He turned around and waved at them to follow.

The gate shut behind them with a loud thud and it was as if the climate had suddenly gotten flipped on its head. The heat was nowhere to be found and despite the place seemingly lacking any doors and visible openings, a gentle cold breeze was flowing through it. Alma opened her mouth, about to express her feelings about the place, when a gust of wind hit her from the side. It was no gentle breeze anymore. This was such a sharp stream that it forced two members of their little group to stagger a bit to keep their balance.

"What the fuck was that?!" the girl yelled out when the sudden attack finally stopped. She looked to the side and saw a gray female dragon standing in the corner of the room, her hands still raised and aiming with their palm toward the visitors.

"Sorry, but the dust and sand tend to stay on clothes and we don't want them getting into the hive. Think of it as a cleaning routine. Haha, but you should've seen your faces!" Darmok laughed and after giving them all a few seconds to shake off the shock, he led them further into the building.

They walked up a set of wide stairs, and the place was already starting to look unlike anything they have seen before. The inside was apparently made of the same material as the exterior, except smoother. Alma ran her hand along the wall. It was cold like stone but smooth as polished floorboards. Corners were practically nowhere to be found. The walls simply kept bending, twisting, and turning, not creating a single sharp edge. Compared to the spikes they had seen on the outside, this was quite the contrast. As they walked further up a long and wide corridor, they noticed a few dragons leaving the doors placed on each side. According to Darmok, they led to apartments owned by individual families. The word "doors" was, however, highly subjective. What they saw, in reality, were large, stone, ornate plates that slid in and out of the ground at the inhabitants' command. They went a bit further into the hive and the wall decorations appeared. Like swirling roots of a massive plant, an endless pattern ran along the interior, glowing with light green color and illuminating the whole place.

Eventually, the corridor ended, leading into a massive opening running through the entire middle section of the hive. Stairs could be seen on the other side of the colossal room. Each floor then had a balcony running around the gap in the middle. The children immediately ran to the railing and looked down. The entire hive was even bigger than it appeared from the outside. It stood at least seven floors above the ground level, and almost as much beneath it as well. Since almost all the floors had a similar railing running around the middle, one could really admire the sheer size of the place just by looking up and down. The passerby dragons stared at the visitors with even colder expressions than the elves from Elkif. This, as Darmok explained, was because of the fact that the number of tourists that passed through the place every year would rarely reach a higher number than zero. Few would wish to venture so far into the drylands. Not to mention that the hive did not simply open its gates to everyone. There had to be a reason for the visit. Fortunately, a young dragon orphan visiting his culture for the first time seemed to be a remarkably good reason. At least according to Darmok's standards.

[They don't seem to like us.]

"What, the people? Don't worry, they are just curious. And... slightly careful too. We are a tight community. I would advise you not to start any trouble. Or you would very quickly find yourself facing the entire hive. But as long as you respect us, we will respect you."

In all her fascination, Alma spent most of the time ignoring what Darmok was telling them, and instead, her attention danced around the beautiful views filling the place. Each public establishment had a glowing text carved into the wall above its entrance. Unfortunately for her, she had no idea what the symbols meant, or which part of them was a logo and which was an actual letter. However, what caught her attention the most was a group of four dragons all dressed in matching uniforms, who were performing a certain "fighting dance" near the stairs. two of them were holding a large, translucent membrane, stretching it out into an almost perfect square, about the height of an adult dragon. The few citizens that would wander by were then invited to stop for a moment and either punch or kick the membrane. For what purpose, Alma was not able to distinguish.

"Hey, what are those guys doing?" she asked and pulled Darmok's tunic.

"That? Oh, that's the Pak-fi club. Don't mind them."

"That's not what I asked about. What's that fabric for? And why is everyone hitting it?"

"It's a measure of one's strength. That's not a fabric but the skin of a Telezar, a predator of the drylands. The Pak-fi is a martial arts club. They follow an old tradition according to which the best hunters were able to tear through the Telezar's skin with bare hands."

"And were they?"

"Oh yes. And there are still a few who practice it. But let's be honest, why bother with that training when you can just learn to use a weapon?"

Alma's eyes kept fixated on the four dragons.

"You want to show off, don't you?" Glavas asked and a wide smirk spread over his face.

"Can I?" Alma replied.

"Well, I don't want to attract unnecessary attention, but... let's be honest, you're sticking out already, so it can't get much worse."

"So..."

"So that's a yes. You can show off."

"Awesome!" She grinned and ran off toward the Pak-fi club members."

"What is she..." Darmok started, only to be quickly interrupted by Glavas.

"You'll see."

As Alma approached the dragons in dark green uniforms, their eyes nearly flew out of their sockets.

"Can I try hitting it too?" she asked and her face replicated the most innocent look she could imagine.

"Sorry, but this might be a bit too much for you," one of the dragons kneeled to get closer to her eye level and gave her a friendly smile.

"I still want to try."

"Heh, well, suit yourself. But be careful, it's harder than it looks."

She paid his warnings little attention. Without hesitation, the girl approached the patch of skin while stretching her shoulder. A single well-aimed fist flew into the target, forcing it to stretch even further, but even after pushing her whole arm as far as she could, she could not pierce it.

"Wow, you've got quite the strength. That's impressive."

Alma pulled back, frustrated by the outcome. "UGH! What the hell is that?!"

"Heh, don't worry about it. There's a trick to it. You see, the skin is stretchy, but doesn't handle sudden impacts too well. Watch this." The dragon took a stance and delivered five blows into the patch of skin, tearing a massive hole in it. Alma could not take her eyes off him. Those had to be the fastest punches she had ever seen. "Impressed?" the dragon proclaimed smugly.

"Y-Yeah," was all she could say at the moment.

"Well, if you'd even want to see more, come find us. Our dojo is right over there," he pointed to a room across the big gap. "Alright guys, let's set up another one!" he called out to his friends and they quickly began pulling a replacement piece of the skin out of a bag and stretching it out again.

"Wow, your daughter is strong," Darmok complimented Glavas.

"Yeah, but she can usually do more than that. Stretchy materials can adapt to her abilities. Huh... who would've thought."

Alma arrived back at the group, her face glowing with thoughts.

"That didn't go as I expected," Glavas admitted.

"Yeah. I thought I'd go right through."

[You probably would've if you just walked forward.]

"But I thought it was just about punching or something."

"Well, you can always try again later," Darmok entered the conversation. "But maybe I should show you a place to stay before you go exploring the hive further? Oh, and getting some lunch also wouldn't be bad. Don't know about the three of you, but I'm getting quite peckish." He smiled and pat his belly.

Glavas licked his lips. "My dear friend, now you're speaking my language."