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[color=C0C0C0]Bluemoon's claws sunk deep into the soft, pale sands that had been scorched by the desert sun. Her calloused paw-pads were numb with pain as she trudged through the refugee camp and for a moment she cursed herself for not accepting the feet-wraps that had been offered to her by a considerate SandWing. They would surely provide protection against the heat, she had told her. Outsiders weren't used to the fire that brimmed below their talons. But Bluemoon was stubborn. If she planned to live in the desert for an extended period of time, then she might as well get used to its sweltering climate. Even then, the blisters that formed on her soles got to be extremely painful at times, so much so that she had to lick her pads and dunk them in water several times during the duration of her shift. She hadn't even been there for a month and she was already making a fool of herself. 

In the confines of the Scorpion's Den, Bluemoon stuck out like a sore claw. Dragons from all over the continent were wont to gather there, but she hadn't seen a black hide or silver scale in the time she had resided there. She had seen some dragons that resembled those of her lineage in terms of their broad shoulders and larger frames… but as far as she knew, she was the only NightWing there. And three moons, did the Den's denizens let her know it. Though SandWings were large, she was larger, and sometimes they tipped their heads up at her with a teasing glint in their dark irises that pricked her scales. Other times, they'd shy away from her in fear and whisper behind her back. There were some that were bold with their queries. [b]"Can you read my mind?"[/b] a MudWing would ask with a fangy smile. [b]"Oh! Tell me what I'm thinking!"[/b]

Another time, a SandWing deep in his cup of cactus juice asked whether or not his partner would marry him. Bluemoon didn't have the chance to answer before he turned his attention back to his co-worker and cracked a sly joke that made her lips twitch. It was obvious to her she didn't belong. She was an outcast among not only her family, but among outcasts themselves. Hilarious.

Well, she thought as she carefully picked her way through the camp, heavy jugs of cool water swaying from her blue-and-gold sash. At least I'm an outcast with a purpose. 

Bluemoon saw herself in these poor, strange dragons. Many did not like them. Pyrrhia already had their claws full with several hot-headed queens and strained relationships between tribes. Why did they have to tend to these dragons who don't even share the same customs as they did? Couldn't they defend their homes? They were weak and lazy, that was what, and they came to take advantage of the hard-working dragons of Pyrrhia. Such sentiments were difficult to agree with, in her opinion. Sure, the influx of new wings was daunting and surprising, but that didn't mean that these dragons didn't deserve a shot at a new life. 

Bluemoon blinked the sand out of her steel-blue gaze as she padded along. Many of the refugees were huddled into family groups that stayed in whatever shade that was available. Others kept to themselves as their distant expressions stared into thin air. Then came the ones that stared at her, like the interesting-looking one that couldn't rip their eyes off of her. She couldn't help but give him a smile as she approached the pair.

[color=2B547E][b]"Hello. I hope you're faring well. My name is Bluemoon. Would you like some water? It's freshly pulled from the river, so it's still cold."[/b][/color] She motioned her claws towards the jugs at her hips. The fastest way to get someone to open up was to offer respite from the heat.[/color]