I'm..Back? (open)

A day just like any other day, out in the marshes of the DarkWings, he had been hunting. But something had suddenly attacked him, being as small as he was, and knocked him into a fast-flowing patch of water that lead to the ocean. The thin-bodied dragon had awoken on a foreign beach just before sunrise, covered in muck and kelp, coughing up seawater. He looked up weakly to see an old, frightened human holding a fishing pole close to their chest. Atsilo snapped at it and lifted himself to his feet, feeling the seaweed fall off his back and land in the gravel with a loud plop. The human yelped and scuttled away, hobbling toward the nearby village.

The dark-scaled dragon had pondered for a moment whether or not he should follow, either out of hunger or in wonderment of where he was. He had taken a step forward when a blast of pain shot up his leg, and when he had instinctively looked down, he saw a great shard of glass shot straight through his foreleg. Like the human, he let out a noise of surprise. He yanked it out with his teeth and held the limb close to his chest. What was he supposed to do?

For a few months or so afterwards, he lingered to steal makeshift medical supplies. It wasn't an area he was particularly skilled in, but he had to try. By the end, it was healed, crudely, and with heavy scarring that would never go away, but healed nonetheless. During his escapades into the village, he had found a map, and it told him that he was on an island far out in the open ocean. He had almost lost hope of returning home, until he saw at the map's edge a coastline he knew well, as it was the marshes of his homeland.

Despite this realization, he was forced to stay due to his injury, eating whatever he could catch. The people would've been included into his diet, but it seemed that the fisherman had warned the townspeople of the dragon's presence on their little island and took care to steer clear of the dark forests where he had made his temporary home. It took a few more months before he was strong enough to make the trip across the waves, and several more weeks of rest before he could find the edges of NightWing territory. He was relieved.

Atsilo had spent nearly a whole year completely lost. Absolutely, positively, undoubtedly lost. But he was back. The thought that nobody would recognize him hadn't crossed his mind yet, he just stood at the border, breathing in the familiar, rank air that right now , to him, smelled of flowers and fresh prey.

Sherlock usually stayed clear of the border to the unknown land, but today she was avoiding her father. She was prepared to fly back into the Nightwing's territory, but she heard a small hissing below. Frowning, she circled once above the beach, her wings catching the sunlight. A small form limped below, looking rather forlorn and lost. She landed lightly on the dark earth, and walked toward the tiny... dragon!!! She was surprised, but hatchlings and other small sorts would sometimes be careless and wander off until they realized they were lost. It wasn't unheard of.
          "Hello, young Nightwing," she purred, "are you lost?"
It started, and turned toward her. Seeing another dragon seemed to relax him. "I know that I am am on the edge of Nightwing territory. But I don't know exactly where. My leg hurts, and I can't fly."
Sherlock squinted at him. "You've been living in a sunny place, perhaps a... beach? I'm guessing that you were either flying and crash landed or were washed downstream, judging by the scars on your leg."
"How'd you know about the beach? I haven't told anyone." The small dragon looked startled.
"Your scales are lighter that many Nightwing dragons, either because you had a birth defect or you have been exposed to sunlight for a long time. Then I saw the sand underneath your scales and what environment has both heavy sun and sand? A beach. It's obvious."