The cool icy wind rushed over snow covered land of The Varden's territory. This was nothing new as it was bitterly cool and wintry about three fourths of the year, and when it wasn’t bone chilling cool it rarely reached over 70 degrees. On the far side of the territory, large waves tinted black from soot and ash lick violently at the shores of a beach made entirely of black volcanic sand. Small ice burgs, rimmed with black flakes and lightly dusted with ash floated just off shore. In sharp contrast to the black sand, a pure white beast lay napping, curled loosely into a ball. The nearby active volcano keeps the sand hot, turning it into a perfect place to rest away for the other beast, or even humans that live in the lands. This was the albino’s favorite place in all of his territory.
Wraith, the leader of the Varden flight and one of the oldest and largest dragons, shifted restfully and buried himself just a little more into the heated rough sand. He breathed a heav