Sleeping Dragons

"Come Dearheart." Ignita murmured into the ear of her son Balrog, a mischievous gleam in her eye as she led him out of the Col and northward one sunny mid morning. Over the winters bluster she had seen great plumes of steam rise up from this direction. But none since summers start.

The sunny heat pervaded even here at the steaming pools. She expected the earth to rumble beneath her but all was quiet and still. She looked back at her handsome boy, her pride and joy. How could it be that her heart was beating inside her chest when she felt like she had five hearts running around without her? Each one unique and beautiful. What was the world like through his jet-black eyes? Glistening in facets as they caught the light. He seemed to get along well with them, never showing any signs of blindness.

She walked around one of the pools, the smell strong, the heat more intense below than from above.

"Whatch those toes! They're far hotter than the springs at home." She cautioned as she leaned over a small pool and glanced at him in the reflection.