Sahara stared at the door, the only way inside, well- to whoever was entering. Sahara was smart enough to plan ahead and place exit ways out of her den. She gave a low growl when an Air Dragon no bigger than her wallowed inside. He glanced around the room, squinting.

'Oh that's right, they don't have night vision,' Sahara thought.

"Who are you?" Sahara growled.

"Some dragon told me about you," the stranger asked, standing stoutly. How did he know about her den?

"Who brought you," Sahara demanded, pacing around her den.

"A Sand Dragon named Scorch. He said you might be able to help me," the Air Dragon replied.

'Ugh. Scorch, I don't have time for this,' Sahara raged in her head.

Sahara then lit her fitpit, her eyes illuminated in the dark. She could see the Air Dragon clearly now, he was a dull lovat blue, with greyish underscales that faded from white to grey to white again. Did he know what Scorch meant when he thought she could help him?

"You know what you're getting yourself into, right?" Sahara eyed him suspiciously. Maybe he was new to this type of stuff.

"Look, stuff happened between my parents and I, and- ," he trailed off. "Well I heard Floral Beach was the best place to go. Hybrids were allowed, Sand Dragons, outcasts, kids who were shunned from their homes-" he stopped himself and cleared his throat.

"So you think you know what you're doing?" Sahara said skeptically.

"No, but all I know is that I was told to go here," he finished.

"Scorch, you piece of camel dung," Sahara hissed, rubbing her forehead. She glanced up at the dragon, oh man he was good at hiding his emotions.

"Who are you, how old are you?" Sahara spat.

"I'm Finch. I'm nearly 29," he replied.

29? Sahara was only 25. Man he was tiny. Guess it made sense, Sand Dragons were just as big as Rock Dragons were. Sahara nodded slowly, still pacing her room.

"So you want something. What do you need?" Sahara inquired.

"Scorch told me that you'd be willing to give me a bit of gold," he said, his blue eyes flashing in the firelight.

Sahara let out a laugh.

"I won't just hand it to you," she said walking up to him. "You gotta do somethin' for me first." She sat up to his face and grinned.

"Oh, so a favor? Depends on what type," he said lowering his voice.

"Alright, you seem enthusiastic," Sahara glanced at her shelf. "Then I gotta job for you."

Finch nodded.

"You know a dragon named Fernwing?" Sahara arranged the items on her shelf.

"I think, maybe a little. There's an awful lot of dragons here," Finch scratched his head. "But why?"

"Let's just say I have unfinished business that I can't exactly get to right now," she answered in an ominous way.

"Like...what?" Finch asked, narrowing his eyes like he already knew the answer.

"Okay, so here's your first tip. Stay detached, if you work for me, don't have a soft heart," Sahara got up to his face and eyed him, Finch tucked in his wings uncomfortably, reeling back.

"Second, stop asking questions. Do you want my help or not?" Sahara hissed.

Finch nodded, looking uneasy.

"So just kill Fernwing and we'll all be good. He'll be dead to me and you'll get your cash, deal?" Sahara said sternly.

"Huh?" Finch jumped, then resettled his wings.

"Did I stutter?" Sahara growled.

"No I- no. I mean..." Finch shook his head and asked again, like he was thinking, then added "You want me to MURDER someone for you?" His voice sounded darkly skeptical.

"Well, isn't that what Scorch told you," Sahara hissed.

"I think I'd rather pass, killing a dragon would take longer than just finding a job." Finch said suddenly. "I'll be off then," he said, edging out the door.

"Oh, " Sahara started. "I don't think I can let you do that."

Finch was startled when Sahara appeared by the entrance.

"You see, now you know about me and what I do. Therefore, you HAVE to kill him," Sahara added. "Or y'know, I'll have to do the same to you."

Finch shuddered in his spot. Sahara sat up and dug through papers on her shelves, picking out a scroll and tossing it to him.

"This should have everything on him," Sahara nodded at the scroll. "Scale color, personality, including address."

She saw Finch slowly unroll the paper, gazing his eyes across it. He scrunched up his snout then looked back up at her.

"How do you know all this? And why didn't you just do it all yourself if you knew it already?" Finch asked.

"Information gets around, I have little birds who tell me my biding. And Fern isn't the one I want to kill, but it'd be beneficiary if he was dead."

Finch squirmed in his spot, staring uneasily at the paper.

"Okay.." he said, lightly beginning to shift out the door.

"And if you go back on your word," Sahara added abruptly. "You'll be talking to my claws. Got that?" She hissed.

Finch bobbed his head up and down, scurrying out the den. She was prepared if Finch ever got away, she'd send some dragon after him just so she'd have the joy of killing him herself. She'd get her revenge no matter what, no matter what it took.

She glanced at the piles of papers and scrolls along the corner of the walls. She found one she had laid out earlier, in large lettering was a name written, 'Mosstail.' She took her claws and swiped through his description, walking away and leaving a torn hole through a sketch of his face. She stood by the firelight, the ambers flickering in her eyes.

She would get her revenge.

One way, or the next.