S'onmul went from place to place checking in. Was it Winter yet? Was it time? So many worlds had long Summers, achingly distant from the snowy chill where S'onmul could tread. It wasn't that he was unable to venture into the hot weather, but he felt uncomfortable under the sunny warm skies none the less. True, he could feel the chilling bite of snow and sleet and think how hard it was to move, how sluggish he could get in it. But a few tosses of his head and bolting out into a storm always got his blood pumping again.

He could hardly remain still, and every movement - from a twitch of his long tail to a flick of his ear, stomping the ground with his hooves or turning his head a bit - made sound. Delicate jingling, tiny bells by the dozen moved through the air whenever he was near. If you listened carefully enough, you'd be able to tell what part of his body was in motion, by the sounds of the bells strung onto him. The net of big, strong sounding bells on his tail are usually the last thing to hear as he flits away. High and faint delicate tones of the tiny ones woven into his leg fur is often the first inkling that he's nearby.

Don't worry about what he eats. It won't run away - he feeds almost entirely on foods left for mysterious jolly visitors in the night. From cookies and milk to accidentally left out pizza or turkey fixins, S'onmul feeds very well indeed. And it's a good thing there's often plenty of food laying out after parties or gatherings: because his metabolism is like a hummingbird.

When one day he stumbled upon a strange place, dark and quiet because it was night but lit with the television shows being watched by a small group of kids, S'onmul felt as though he'd been here before. He hadn't, but so many others of his kind had.

For he too was a Sanger. A very different one indeed. One who never ran into the evil opposite all too many of them faced. He never needed to worry about being abused, caged, harmed, or even taken away from his family. Though he didn't know any other creatures quite like himself, it was possible that they existed somewhere that he'd long since left and forgotten.

The Healing Den became his home - and he learned that from it, visiting numerous places was quite a lot easier than how he'd been doing it before. If anyone saw him even briefly, it would only be as a brightly blurry form - and nothing more than bells to hear. Though he lived here, like many did, it was unlikely that even Baeris knew quite where he slept if he even did.

More a kind of transportation central area, S'onmul used the Den regularly until he heard about a strange place that was asking for... for dragons like himself! He hardly thought of himself as much of a 'dragon' but then he was hardly what one would call a 'deer' either.

He stands more than seven feet tall at the shoulder, quite tall for such a quick-footed creature. And though he has no wings, he's been known to fly long distances over rough terrain that he didn't feel like running across. Like rooftops. And as for how he gets into places that have those tasty leftovers? Where he leaves little things he's found (like your keys you lost the other day, a pen that's been slipped into a couch for 2 years, or even a book that had been missing for decades)? He shrinks to a managable size and finds whatever way is best, to enter a home. A cat door? Sure, that's easy. An unlocked fence and a slightly open kitchen window? He'll manage. Chimney and open flue? Best part!

Though he's never been known to speak, he clearly understands language including written forms. Almost any language jotted down on postit notes, stone tablets, or chalkboards (or often sprayed via paint can onto walls) is easily understood. Plus, when there is song around, people seem to enjoy it more, seem to want to join in and dance or clap. Though they might not see him or know why they feel like this, the little jingling bells on his antlers chime in to enhance the mood of any festive gathering.

So it was, that when he found out about a certain flight - a mating flight - he wanted to go and see what all the hooplah was about. He'd rarely been around creatures such as himself. Would he be able to stand still long enough to fit in? Find a mate? Ooh, that'd be fun, he sprinted up the hillside from where he'd been standing, 'hopped into another universe sideways, and left a trail of gently chiming bells in his wake.

It wasn't from that flight, but from one of his descendants, something came back to him. Many of his descendants had used the Den's wide, white-covered winter parking area for their genrehopping ease. But this one decided to remain. Sure, there were a couple others, slumbering dino-dragons or xenoflitters. However, this one struck S'onmul as being a lot better than those.

Well, she was his great-great grand-daughter, so...of course she was better.

She spoke without words, mostly, like he did. In fact she seemed to take greatly after him in many ways. She wanted to remain, learn, fly around. And be fast. That came naturally, of course. They were all quite speedy. She added a gentle glowing to her cheerful aura, the delicate jingling of bells on her straight antlers, and her slender legs was much more high-pitched than S'onmul's.

But she was almost as big as he, and plus - she had wings! Plenty of them. They joked silently as they skittered around the wintery worlds, that she had way more than enough to go around, and so he didn't need any.

Vid'amalom learned how to interpret dreams of those that S'onmul took her to visit. In deepest night, they would collect information and tuck it away. It was all but instinct that kept these dreams and their owners in order - they knew just where to go, who to see, what to leave. It was a little more difficult for Vid' to enter homes, because she couldn't size-shift herself. But once she realized that her ice form could pretty easily seep down vents or under drafty doors... They were good to go!

Of course, she did seem to always leave a little soggy fur behind...

Vid'amalom was content to follow in her ancestor's tracks for a while, but there did come a day when she knew she had to get out and about. One of the places she visited seasonally was a world of heroic deeds and super people - and super dragons. Paragon City by name, it harbored many interesting people and dragons. One of them certainly caught her eye... how could he not, after all he burned with such an amazing fire that she felt the need to watch him for hours.

Criao Chxalli was his name, he told her from afar with his warm and flickering mind-voice. And oh how she melted... not literally, because she had strong control over ice, at any rate. But she wanted to see more of this intriguing, fiery male. Much more.

She could come to him in dreams, and he would welcome her. Eventually they flew brightly over the chill night skies of Paragon together, occasionally joined by other dragons, but mostly just the two of them. They joined frequently throughout summer and autumn, and enjoyed each other's company until Vid'amalom knew she'd become heavy with offspring. That, and she was due back to the Wintery places with her great-grandsire. So she bid Criao a temporary farewell - he would easily be able to visit her whenever he wanted, she'd shown him where to go.

And then... she dropped a dozen pups. Liveborn, which was unusual for only parts of her lineage. And they were bright, and they burned, or glowed, or shimmered. They, like some of her other ancestors, spread to the winds and the worlds of the Nexus during a big Winter Gather. But one remained, he named himself Berza Houtalli, and he was magnificent. He'd certainly inherited a bit of his sires' self-inflated attitude, but that was perfectly fine, after all he was stunning. Vid'amalom presented her brood to their sire, and he was duly impressed as well. Berza would likely spend some time each year drifting around with his mother, and go to Paragon for the rest of the year.