Chapter 44: Strength in Numbers

The sun had barely risen when I stood atop the stone ledge, gazing out across the land we had built. What once was a small, hidden refuge had become a village… no, a growing kingdom of scaled wings and fire. My gaze swept across the valley below—the homes we built from mud and fire, the clear waters of the ponds we'd dug and filled with prey, and the dozens of dragons beginning to stir from their dens.

And for the first time, I started to count.

One by one, I looked over them. Younglings flapping their wings, chasing insects. Mothers keeping their cubs in line. Young warriors cleaning their scales in the pond. Strays who had proven themselves, now part of our clan.

Thirty-seven.

There were thirty-seven dragons in total now, including myself, my mate, our cubs, and their growing broods. And more would come. That much was certain.

I let out a deep, rumbling growl—not a threat, but a signal.

They looked up, silent, attentive.

"Our numbers have grown," I said, my voice rolling like thunder. "More wings, more fire, more life. But with more mouths to feed… comes the need for more space."

My tail swept behind me, pointing to the third pond—the largest one, the one Kong himself helped us create. It had become the heart of our hunting and fishing, where younglings learned to dive, where fish swam freely, breeding in the thick aquatic plants we'd transplanted from other ponds.

But it wasn't enough anymore.

"We need to expand it." I said simply. "If we wait, we'll run dry. The food will thin. And the dragons will suffer."

I looked toward my eldest son, the new elder, who nodded. "Let's dig," he growled, wings folding tight.

"**All of you able to fly and dig—**you work today. We will make the pond larger, deeper, wider. We will shape it for the future—for your cubs and theirs."

A wave of roars answered me.

Dragons of all sizes took to the sky, circling once before diving down to the earth. Claws raked into soil, tails smashed roots, fire burst from mouths to soften hard ground. The teamwork was instinctual. Natural. Efficient.

Younger dragons carried away rocks. Elders guided where to dig. I walked through the trenches myself, lending claw and flame, melting stubborn boulders and hard clay so they could be moved.

My mate brought water in her jaws to cool the freshly moved earth, keeping it from collapsing.

Even Kong, hearing the roars, came through the trees. He didn't speak, but the moment he saw us digging, he gave a short nod and began carving trenches with his massive hands. Entire chunks of earth flew behind him as he worked beside us, each scoop worth a dozen of our efforts.

We worked all day.

By sundown, the pond was nearly twice its size. Connected channels fed it with water, and we dug side pockets to encourage fish to spread and breed. Some dragons dove in and began herding fish from the older pond to the new space.

My heart swelled as I watched them work.

This wasn't just survival anymore. This was civilization. Unity.

We were no longer strays, no longer prey hiding in shadows. We were a force—a clan with fire in our blood and purpose in our hearts.

And we would never stop growing.