So... part one of what may be a new, possibly long series... very interested to hear what you think. So without wanting to spoil anything... I hope you enjoy

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Stormblown

“Cayas, keep up!” the roar broke through the howling wind as Cayas beat his wings with his all, biting back a frustrated, tired reply as he fought to keep the shadows of his fellow dragon’s wings in view through the haze of rain and darkness.
Once more he looked down, and saw nothing but a shifting, inky blackness. The storm had blown them off course so subtly… he’d never flown in such dark.
Every inch of his impressive wingspan burned… how could he be feeling such burning pain in such bitter cold… every beat the air felt thicker and thicker with water. Swimming more than flying through the sky. He just wanted to rest, just for a moment, for one, precious, euphoric moment…
“Cayas! Cayas, stay with us!”
He only blinked, he was sure of it… but his wings felt heavy as rocks, and as unbending, the wind battered his face, shooting agony through his delicate nostrils, forcing him to squint as the roiling dark waters below rushed up for him. He flared his wings best he could, praying for a wind. One did find him, rising under the membranes… till another hammered down and thrust him into the icy sea

His wing hurt… that dominated Cayas’s mind as he coughed in a slow breath. His head ached too, but the world, had stopped moving beneath him. His forepaws flexed, pushing beneath himself. The ground flowed smoothly, grained… sand. The salty tang on the air brought it all back.
A self-pitying sob coughed from his jaws as he panted, fighting for the wish this was all a terrible dream… but he remembered falling from the sky, he remembered the storm… and the pain, was all too real. Why had this happened…
Deep in his belly a pressing ache was enough to grind up some willpower, and slowly he got a forelimb under his chest, supporting himself as Cayas lifted his heavy muzzle and opened his eyes. The light was blinding… morning already? Had he dozed off… he had been so, so tired. There was a beach certainly… and tall trees, and some distant rises… land. He looked behind with a sinking heart… sea, endless sea. Where was he…
Without thinking he tried to fold his wings and growled a shriek as pain lanced down one limb. Driven to panting he pressed his snout to the ground in a snort. Slowly he drew in the other wing… no pain… ache, but no pain. Reluctantly he looked to the other, grimacing a touch. A nasty cut to the wing limb… maybe some of the finer bones were broken… he couldn’t tell. He didn’t have time for that.
With his tail, he gently tried to fold the wing to his back without moving its muscles… it hurt, but less… still the wing hung down his flank, but he could walk like this.
His next breath was shaky. He didn’t want to move… stepping into this world was only confirmation of the worst case… that this was all happening. But he was hungry… so hungry.

The surroundings weren’t unpleasant he conceded as he looked around… but very different to what he knew. His wing laboured on his mind. He wanted to attend to it… certainly flying was out of the question for now. So, food, and shelter to rest so he would have time to focus on his wing… those tasks he set firmly in his thoughts.
A lumpy brown shape half buried in the sand not far from him was a relief… the, damaged satchel he had been wearing slung at his shoulders… Within… salted meat, seasoned with fresh sand, but he fixed his jaws around it ravenously, eating with a passion despite the grit. It was food, nothing else mattered.
He licked his chops of his rations, nosing the bag… nothing more. Disappointed his focus turned to the trees… somewhere in there might be shelter. The skies above… were less than friendly in their dark, oppressive thickness.
Already he felt his limbs growing cold and heavy. He dreaded contemplating the freezing chill of the rain. Desiring nothing more than a place he could feel safe to stop and collect his thoughts he pressed on into the trees, wincing when his shoulder hit one of the immovable pillars. Were he stronger they would be obstacles at best. Right now they were bars, trapping him in the feral cage his ancestors knew well.
I am a dragon, he reminded himself as he growled past his fangs, enduring the pain when his hanging wing glanced brush. Much as it made his shoulder pound with hot agony, he favoured pushing the shoulder with his good wing into the surrounding foliage, wriggling his large scaly bulk between the trees. Was night coming again… or was it just the clouds and the claustrophobic canopy. He felt lost again in the trees, unable to see even the few landmarks he’d been planning his dash around.
The very thought he might be going in circles threatened to bring up the foul, sandy meat he’d stomached. Still, hope glimmered as the ground under his paws seemed to slope up… height was good, height was always good.
Though every dragged step batted his mind further into the dizzy recesses of his pain addled mind, slowly Cayas drew himself out of the trees, onto rocky soil where only ferns grew. In his sight, hidden by the trees was, rock… solid rock. He looked up, and around… impassable. The realisation threatened to ruin him, but one sudden observation halted the process. The rock wasn’t completely solid. There was a crevice… wide enough for him.
His heart sank. Primitive, like some cave dragon of his histories. Still. Such holes in the rocks had been liveable shelter for his ancestors, that was all the proof his desperation needed that this was just what he required.
Spurred by the promise of shelter he staggered to the rocks and squeezed into the chamber, letting his better side scrape the stone a bit just to ensure his hanging wing would be protected. The crevice widened inside.
He collapsed to his belly with an exhale and let the fatigue win. Surely for now he was safe… just for the moment, he could rest…

Cayas woke to the distant thrum of hammering rain. A chill hung in the air, but he felt… a little more mindful. Careful of his aches, he sat, slowly spreading his good wing in the gloom, a soft glow emanating in the dark.
Across his wing’s membrane was a delicate pattern, all but invisible by day… but in the dark, it luminesced softly. Along his jaw a similar, softer glow echoed, casting just enough light for his sharp eyes to see reasonably in the shadowy cavern. It was… not too small, about as large as his room back home… not quite wide enough to spread his wings properly, but with only wing to spread, he’d make do.
As his senses awoke, a pressing need ached in his jaw. Thirst… he was very thirsty… was that what had roused him? The salt of the preserved meat lingered in his mouth. Water… he hadn’t even thought about water. He cursed his oversight but understood it bitterly well. He took water for granted. A quick rise on the wing and he was sure to see rivers, lakes, water bodies, they reflected the light. Prey took longer to find, and the hunt was tedious and unsure. Meat they preserved, but water… water was heavy for travel, why bother. Unless your wing got injured.
The thrum of the rain made him shiver just to imagine what it meant… but water was falling so conveniently from the sky.
Step by step he staggered back down the tunnel as the sounds of rain drew closer. It was heavy, hammering the plants down, choking out what light he could see. But it was still water.
The wash down his scales was cold but not as chilling as he feared as he stepped out into the rain. The blood and sand and dirt washing from him at least. He turned his head back, jaws opening to the sky, feeling the specks of moisture rolling down his tongue. The satisfaction of a drink it was not, but his mouth felt less parched and salty, and he trusted some was easing down his throat. For as long as he could bear, he sat in that spot, though inevitably the chill drove him back into his cavern. Each step left a trail of droplets as he retreated to the… not warmth, but at least shelter of the deep cavern. Reliant as he felt on external heat, his body, did produce some. In the confined environment, he dared hope it would make the place liveable.
The thirst didn’t feel sated, but the edge was dulled. It would do. And while the chill clung miserably to him it had woken him up. He felt more alert. Though he hesitated on the question of whether it would last… he could become feverish he was sure… and his wing needed tending, sooner than later. That was going to be a problem he observed dismally.
While he could reach his wing with his muzzle, his paws were… all but useless to touch them. What could he really do with just his toothy mouth. He hoped desperately to be found. His group would look for him surely… but where was he even. What if he was never found, and never flew again.
The thoughts made his stomach twist, he shook his head against them, but their heavy, morbid weight refused to be so easily discarded.
As he fought against his pessimistic prospects his eyes were slowly adjusting to the low light off his luminescence, the walls of his confinement becoming clearer. They were reasonably flat… it got him thinking. He’d always heard, his kind had used their faint glow to draw, and write… in the earliest days.
Desperate for distraction and a project for his alert mind, he sat and drew closer to the wall, spreading his good wing to better light it. He brought a foreclaw to the stone, digging in the tip, scratching out the jagged language of straight claw lines that made the written form of their tongue.
“My name is Cayas” he scratched in the stone, considering the criss-cross overlaid symbols that was his name “blown from my expedition group in a storm I find myself on this” he hesitated “I do not know if I am on an island, a peninsula, or some stretch of coast. I recognise nothing, but then I was never that well-travelled. My wing may be broken… certainly wounded, but the limb, not the membrane, so perhaps there is hope. If you read this, hopefully I have been rescued, hopefully there is just this one entry, the distraction of my morbid mind before being quickly found… but maybe it won’t be” he stopped to consider “lest my mind lose itself, my thoughts I will capture. I’m thirsty… come morning I hope to find water, somewhere, and food with it, I hope. I cannot remember the last time I had to catch prey, kill it with my bare fangs… or, not bother to kill it. I haven’t had live prey for a long time either, but I came on this exploration with the expectation I might need hunt. My wings… would have been helpful” he sighed, resisting the urge to flick those wings with his frustration “Come light I need to assess my wing, if it heals I may be able to at least see where I am. Maybe from the air home will be easy” he let his claw drop on the hopeful thought, looking about his, cavern before settling down. He wasn’t especially tired, but perhaps he had better rest, till the rain stopped…

Cayas felt he must have slept, for he came aware to silence. No rain or howling wind. The cavern seemed a little lighter. Filtering through from outside he reasoned. Rising to his paws, some of the aches of the day... or morning before had ebbed to dull discomfort. His sense of time was worsening, however.
The day was, bright after the storm. He could smell soaked moss as he moved out and sat on the gravelly ground outside the crevice… part of a wider cliff he could see more, clearly now. What little he knew of geology, it looked volcanic… if thankfully old.
His wing hung unpleasantly still, the sharper pain throbbing in that drawing his focus once in the light. It didn’t look pleasant. His stomach turned at the, reddened torn scales, the yellowish ooze that had seeped up overnight. Had he any other dragon, they could dress it at least somewhat… worse though, the joint felt, especially painful. The bone wasn’t broken, he didn’t think… but damaged, he felt sure… this was no sprain or bash, he knew that by feel.
It could be worse though, he consoled himself. He must have gotten his wings folded before he hit water… perhaps his wing cracked off a rock as he was washed ashore… He still couldn’t fly on it without doing more damage. And infection or fouling of the wound filed him with dread. He’d seen a dragon who had needed a wing amputated. No sorrier dragon had he ever beheld.
Though the thought made him shudder it gave him a passion to solve the issue, he knew for now there was nothing he could do. And he had more immediate concerns.
His belly was empty again, and his mouth was parched. He’d have to hunt and find water… or try eating moss. A repulsive thought.
Reluctant as he was for the exertion the instinct for survival was a powerful draw, and Cayas wandered into the strange forest. Much of the plant life seemed familiar enough… that was heartening, how far could he be from home… that said, the fauna and flora of the world had never been his focus… how would he know if there was something, important and small he wasn’t seeing.
In some ways his wandering felt aimless, no specific target, except to look for what he needed. Still, he kept close to the rocky regions for a few reasons. Ease of finding his way back, the extra sight he gained from the thinner trees, and he was hopeful any suitable water sources might be easier to find. He could get lost in the forest… but circling the rocky pinnacle, any rivers had to start up there…
Whether through wise choice or dumb luck, he wasn’t entirely sure, his walk bore some fruit, a faint trickle of water caught his ear, a trail of liquid moved downhill before him. He’d seen dragons drool with greater flow… but it was a start.
Careful not to tread on it and form a paw shaped mini-lake, he followed the trickle downhill, moving carefully through the trees, watching other little trickles meet it and grow it. At points it was consumed by vaster flows… still minute though. Till finally the river thinner across than his muzzle entered a clearing in the trees and emptied into the body of a lake.
It was a small lake, a glorified pond perhaps… he suspected if he threw himself in belly first it might displace half its volume… but it was plenty to drink.
So, captivated by the shimmering, beautiful body of sweet water, Cayas only spotted the movement at the last moment. Shapes moving from the lake and into the trees. Others here to drink and spooked by his presence he assumed. Would not be the first time. He’d barely caught a glimpse of the creatures, but they seemed, of a size worth eating. That was good. He had worried, should this be an island, or isolated peninsula, perhaps the ecosystem didn’t support anything large enough to be worth his diet… but there was at least one. Though… he wondered if it was only the passing glance… but he swore they’d fled on hind legs.
He’d seen creatures settle on their hind legs before, mostly to raise their view, but they fled on four. He’d never seen any who fled on two… He dismissed it with a roll of the shoulder and dipped his snout into the cool water to drink deeply. A slightly silty taste infused the water if he drank too deeply, so he sipped, and it was tolerable. Soon he felt sated, licking his chops and sitting up. The weight of water tricked his appetite a little too. He’d still need to actually hunt, however.
Too weary for the honourable option, Cayas stalked into the thickest patch of trees and brush in easy sight and settled down on his belly, trying to obscure himself so he could wait. Water drew everything… prey included. It was not a good long-term strategy... they’d know where to find other water if he made this spot unsafe. But he trusted it would get him a meal if he waited…

It took time, his presence presumably had been noticed by anything close but bit by bit life started to creep back to the waterside. It was almost a pity he’d have to ruin it again. There was something soothing about seeing the natural world. He didn’t get out as often as he should, he knew… not a problem for the moment certainly.
Some, medium sized hooved creature wandered to the water, head decorated with… disturbing bony extensions. He hoped it was good to eat as he crouched a bit lower, waiting for a good moment. That thing’s carcass would fill his belly nicely for now.
The creature paced warily, eyes alert. Yet when he sprang, it didn’t react as quickly as he had expected. Its head swivelled to him, and hesitation flared in the muscles along its back. Then he landed.
Forepaws slammed down on it as he bit to the spine, hard, feeling the resilient cord against his teeth as his fangs sank into the body. A panicked cry escaped it in a bellow, fighting under his grip. Hot, sharp tasting blood filled his mouth. Revulsion, but a spark of predatory urge ran his mind. In the end, the raw need of hunger won out. He drew his head back and thrust it over the head of the bleating thing, the movement in his mouth made him queasy, but only made his jaw work of its own volition. Gripping, jabbing, and swallowing before gripping tight again. The iron tang filled his senses, under his claws, across his tongue, in the air when he breathed, a growl of dismay and need echoed in his throat, but he lunged, swallowing, gulping till… so suddenly the beast was just, gone, and a satisfying swell was rolling down his neck.
Cayas panted, shuddering… when last had he had something alive in his mouth… he could barely remember. As the meal sank for his gut he wondered, did he feel his own racing heart thudding in his chest… or could he actually feel it still fighting on its way down.
His paws dripped red… quickly he moved to the water to clean them, dipping snout to drink, washing the taste of blood down with the beast. He felt more settled after that. The queasy feeling in his stomach replaced by a warm fullness.
For a long moment he sat, a paw to his belly… wondering if it was the unsettling feeling again, or actual struggles making his stomach feel like it was going to void. But a soft exhale, and a little time and the sensation ebbed. It was done, he was fed.
Slowly he rose to paws, almost wary too much movement on his part would unsettle his stomach but feeling mostly well he turned to wander back for his cavern home… couldn’t be too hard, he hoped. Follow the water, then follow the cliffs…

By the time Cayas found his way back his stomach was feeling better. He wasn’t hungry, or thirsty… aches still rang through him, echoing through his flesh like ripples on a pond, but most would heal… he just had his wing to consider.
Time had lost much of its meaning that day… already it was growing dark, but he had little idea when he had woken… but on reflection, the sun had been reasonably high. With luck a good rest the coming night would at least get his body out of its time confusion. Measuring his time here in days sounded, soothingly familiar a practice.
Wandering back into the cavern, his markings resuming their soft glow, his gaze turned once more to the writing on his wall. With a roll of his shoulders he returned to it, etching in the stone.
“Luck found me water today, a less than pleasant source, but far better than thirst. I also ate, some ungulate creature of sorts. I have never heard of a poisonous mammal, so hopefully it will be a suitable food source. It was a stark reminder how long it has been since I hunted, however. Still the memory of its blood makes my stomach turn… the, living struggles flowing down my neck… I still think I prefer those to the blood. I worry I’m too far from the ways of my ancestors to survive here” he sighed, as he committed his worst fears to the understanding stone “since my kind began to group together, specialise, some dragons hunt, some need not… those who do, do nothing else, they become very skilled. I am not such a one… but what am I” he shook his head slowly “officially I was assistant to the cartographer on our expedition, though as my touch for maps is still weak, my role would have been to fly around and see things for him. That and act as glorified courier for any of the others. A low role perhaps, all it took was wings. I don’t even have that right now” he hesitated, looking along the wall… if he was to be honest anywhere, why not here? “I wonder if I’m important enough they’d stop their trip to search for me. None owe me any favours. And if they do search, for how long” he sighed to himself “I need to survive, and I can’t count on rescue, much as I hope with growing desperation that it is inbound” he tapped a claw to his chin, before continuing “I saw an odd creature today as well, on reflection, moving as it did, I’m assuming it is some sort of primate. But not one I’ve ever heard of. Not especially heartening, if I haven’t heard of it then perhaps my kind hasn’t been wherever I am. They seemed edible in size however, and as there were two, perhaps they have a troupe somewhere nearby. Tomorrow I may search for it. Primates normally take for the trees if I recall, and trees are little opposition for me. Just maybe I’ll be lucky and they will prove suitable prey for the foreseeable future”
His line of thought snapped as his ear twitched to a sound outside. A brief but noticeable scatter of rocks… like a slip from a misplaced paw. Curious, and wary of the unknown of this place he crept for the exit to his cavern, peering out. At first he saw nothing, easing further, eyes roaming the trees. Then he saw it and was puzzled. A, flat little furless face, peeking at him from the brush. Almost soon as he got a look, it retreated, scampering away with leaps and bounds… on its hind legs. He sat up, watching it go with a flash of deeper curiosity. One of those things… primate seemed appropriate… but a slightly better look puzzled him more… it had seemed, strange… strange in a way he couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was how, misshapen its body had looked in the flashing glimpses he got. He’d written off the blurs by the lakeside, but this… was strange.
He snorted, peering around, but content he was alone, padded back into his cavern, turning his focus back to the wall and beginning to scratch again
“And one of them is watching me. The strangest creature I have ever beheld. It wasn’t especially large, I doubt I have much to fear. I’m curious. Why would it come up here? Maybe this cavern is a place they shelter, troupes of primates do move around I believe. There is no, scent in here to suggest it has homed anything. I’ll see if I can follow that one’s trail tomorrow. I could use a steady food supply, if I must wait and let my wing heal. I only hope it does heal and heals well. If I lose my wing”
Cayas stopped scratching, he couldn’t bear to finish that sentence. And if any dragon ever found this cave, he doubted they’d need it finished to know exactly how he felt about that last hovering thought.