Supplies

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The ogre was the last to arrive at the little camp. The dragoness looked to the sky, and saw that Charon had yet to reach their planet (or at least, where they were on it), but she was nervous nonetheless.
   "Why don't you guys bring your food back? We know he's the only one missing. May as well get y'all to safety while we can."
   The winged ones nodded and took off with prey in their claws. The others spread out to look for him, with the dragon their waypoint. She stood on her hind legs to look over the trees, in case she spotted him. She would've flown point, but someone needed to protect their kills from scavengers--if such things existed, in a world that Charon cleared nightly.
   After a time that made her scales twitch, the whole group, except the Stella beast, returned with bowl-shaped objects full of odds and ends plants.
   "You had time to weave baskets?" she asked.
   "Nope. Think they're like big nutshells or something. Only held down by a vine," he grunted.
   "While that is admirable, how do you propose we bring those back, and the food animals?"
   All four of them clapped their bowls to their chests and assumed the carry position.
   "You'll have to hold on extra tight to keep those from spilling," she warned. "I do hope this works."
   She picked up what food she could with one paw, gripped the rest with her hind talons, being careful not to actually step on them. It was like walking heel-toe so you don't step on your cat's tail, but much more gross.
   It was very hard to jump up for that first wingbeat. Her toes felt bruised by the time she finally got airborne, and her wings felt the strain. She would have to drop them off before retrieving the catkin, and she disliked it immensely.
   Luckily, the gryphons had noted the time, as well. When they got closer to their home dragonhold, they saw them ferrying the three kits, and another had offered to carry their kills. It wasn't easy, and the catkin looked quite nervous, but they made it about the same time the dragon and her passengers did. She let the weary gryphs descend first, tired as she was. She'd been carrying heavy loads much more frequently than they had, though they hunted as often as she did. She rested on a spire and watched until they were on the ground, and out of the way.
   Then she decided to see if her tail was prehensile, because her toes were cramping. She made sure it had a grip on a herdbeast before letting go; otherwise, it would fall off the spire, and possibly land on someone.
   "Look out below," she called, dropping her tail down. When she gauged it to be clear, she dropped the first beast. It didn't matter if it broke on impact, they'd just carve it into pieces anyway.
   "Second drop," and the other foot was free to flex and stretch.
   Then she parachuted down, so the ogre and natives could release their burdens and flex their tired fingers. The Stella beast ran to his owner and licked her face happily.
   She wasn't fond of licking her toes, so she went to the nearest algae stream to rinse her feet. The water wasn't warm, so it didn't soothe the ache, but it did remove the dried blood and... dirt? Whatever the grasses grew out of.
   "Um, ma'am? I hate to bother you, but we still haven't found rocks that spark, so..."
   She walked over to the pile they'd assembled, shaking her hind feet like a cat. It felt silly, but it worked, so she didn't care overmuch.
   When she squeezed the organ with the funky gas, it felt a bit light. She got enough flame to cook the food (which was still extinguished by the nearest ogre, as they hadn't found anything that wasn't flammable), but a new ache took hold. It felt like being dehydrated, and your kidneys feel wrung out... but for a lung-like organ.
   Something drew her eyes to the sky, but the suns were dimming. She wouldn't have time to stargaze today.
   I wonder if that's how I fill that lung thing? Is that why I can breathe up there? How long could I stay up there before it... I dunno, burst..? Can I empty it with fire-breathing? Should one do that up there?
   The kin snatched up their food and brought it to the safety of the spire bases. It had been an entire day, but they hadn't settled down yet. Nighttime would be traumatic for a while.
   Even the younger dragon dragged the beast she brought him as close to a spire as he could, before eating it. He did thank her, but there was a wariness in his eyes. They rolled skyward between bites.
   At first, she thought he was picking at his food, because it took so long to eat it all, until she remembered that all of him was smaller--including his head. Of course it would take longer!
   The up side was, he might stay full longer than she did, and need to eat less often.
   She settled next to him, offering mute support. Perhaps her sheer size would calm his nerves.
   It took several more days for the survivors to settle into the routine of the place. They never had the discussion of whether they would be allowed to stay or not, because the kin who'd been there longer saw the trauma they'd endured. No one had the heart to even suggest kicking them out.
   The ogre's little plants found a home at the base of one of the spires, where bare... soil? It grew things, so they decided it could be called soil. They found a small patch to plant some of the sprouts he'd brought back. Those that were ripe were eaten with relish. The enjoyment, not the condiment. They hadn't figured out how to make preserves yet. That kind of required making containers, which they also hadn't quite sorted.
   

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