Free A Shard of Sun by Jess E. Owen

of them—the gryfons who’d aided him and Stigr, who’d offered even to betray their own king—Valdis, Asvander, Dagny.
    And Stigr. Shard closed his eyes for a moment, seeing it again. For one brief moment, his uncle laughing, triumphant in battle, then felled by the brown wyrm. His wing, sliced clean from his shoulder. They’d called healers.
    Shard opened his eyes, curling his talons into the pine needles.
    If they’d called healers, there was a dim, distant chance that his uncle was alive. That would be reason enough to return to the Dawn Spire. When the time was right. Shard looked down at Hikaru’s peaceful face.
    For the moment, he had other responsibilities, and Stigr would not want him to shirk a promise he’d made.

     
    For three days they traveled through the expanse of forest nightward of the Horn of Midragur. Alone, Shard would have covered twice the distance—but they went at Hikaru’s pace. The young dragon flew valiantly during the day, sometimes as long as three marks of the sun before he tired or grew ravenously hungry. During the day, they flew and hunted. Shard knew the dragons of the Winderost hated the sun, or were shamed by Tyr, and wouldn’t travel during the day. At night, he and the young dragon walked as far as they could before their muscles gave out and they slept until dawn.
    Shard taught him the basic hunting that he knew, though he sensed that Sunland dragons, like Vanir, were built better for fishing. They found a single deer on their trek, ran it down and killed it. Shard taught Hikaru to honor any creature he killed, whether for food, or in battle.
    “Do you think I will ever see a battle?” Hikaru consumed most of the deer before a mark of the sun had passed.
    “I hope not.” Shard ate his fill and was amazed at the dragon’s appetite. His body from shoulder to rump had grown to twice the length of a gryfon, and his neck and tail stretched well beyond that. His whiskers drooped handsomely from his snout and the budding horns between his ears shone silver in sunlight.
    They sat in a sunny clearing ringed by towering cedars. The forest—Shard recalled an eagle of the Winderost mentioning the Forest of Rains—boasted dense ferns, crawling greenery and bright songbirds. Shard smelled a fox trail here and there, but no wolves, no gryfons or other large predators. No wyrms.
    After appearing to think about Shard’s answer, Hikaru asked, “Why not? They seem exciting.”
    “Some creatures like to fight, and they’re good at fighting.” Shard thought of his rival, Halvden, who before Shard’s self-exile had become a deadly foe. “Some think it’s better to do everything possible to avoid a fight.”
    “What do you think, Shard?”
    The weight of Shard’s answer sat heavy in his chest, for by Hikaru’s bright gaze, he knew that whatever he answered could become Hikaru’s answer too.
    “I think it’s important not to fight for the sake of fighting.”
    Hikaru bobbed his head, as if that made sense. “Because you could be hurt.”
    “Yes. Or you could hurt another, and that’s another kind of pain.”
    “Then,” Hikaru began slowly, “if you don’t fight for the sake of fighting, what do you fight for?”
    The question was so innocent, yet so wise, Shard laughed, then butted his head against Hikaru’s shoulder. The sunlight of the clearing felt good after the dark cave and the cold rain, the dense trees like a green cavern over their heads. “That’s a good question, and no one has the truest answer.”
    Hikaru shook his short mane. “What do you fight for, Shard?”
    Shard thought back. “I have fought for my honor—which isn’t always worth it, depending on who you’re fighting. I fight to defend the weaker, I fight for my family and my friends.”
    “Your gryfon pride,” Hikaru said eagerly, and Shard fluffed his feathers. “Because you’re a prince.”
    “Yes.” Shard had a pride waiting for him, hoping for his return so that he could be their