Throughout the night, Bruce lay entwined in the grip of nostalgia, his thoughts ensnared by the allure of Dragon Mother's trove. The cavern, a vast cathedral of stone, shimmered dimly under the glow of luminescent fungi, painting the scene in an ethereal light.
As dawn broke, the cavern awakened. The sun, a distant artist, painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, its light cascading down and illuminating the three young dragons. Bruce, alongside his kin, unfurled his eyes, greeting the new day with a mixture of lethargy and anticipation.
Dragon Mother, the revered guardian of the cavern, was notably absent, her presence dissolved into the early morning mist.
Bruce, his mind still anchored to the treasures, cast a longing glance toward their hidden location. The power he had gleaned from his last feast of treasure pulsated within him, a tempest of desire and restraint. His reason, a lighthouse in the storm, reminded him of the dire consequences his greed might summon.
Meanwhile, Carona and Torenço, once challengers to Bruce's might, now kept a wary distance. The scars of past confrontations had taught them caution, a lesson etched in fear and respect. Torenço, his spirit unbroken, turned to spar with Carona, their skirmish a dance of scales and flame within the confines of the dragon's nest.
Bruce's gaze lingered on the dueling pair, then stealthily shifted back to the treasure. The secret of its location was his alone—a tempting whisper of opportunity. With the others preoccupied, he could easily claim a token of the trove, a silent testament to his cunning. Yet, the allure of the treasure wrestled with the specter of consequence.
Dragons, after all, were not creatures of simple mind. Dragon Mother, with her wisdom perhaps surpassing that of humans, would undoubtedly notice the absence of even a single gem. The risk of betrayal, of revealing his transgression through a misplaced glance or a hesitant word, loomed over him like a storm cloud.
Hunger, however, gnawed at Bruce's resolve. His unique constitution left him perpetually famished, a prisoner to his own voracious appetite. "Sleep," he thought, "In sleep, the pangs of hunger fade into silence."
As Bruce contemplated surrendering to slumber, a sudden disturbance caught his attention. Pebbles, dislodged from above, danced down the cavern walls. He lifted his gaze and beheld the silhouette of Dragon Mother, majestic and imposing, perched atop the cavern's crest. Her presence, a silent vigil over her domain, was both comforting and unnerving.
Not long after, Dragon Mother descended with grace, her wings slicing through the air with precision. She alighted at the nest's edge, her claws clutching a prize—a two-headed rhinoceros, a beast of formidable stature. Bruce recognized the creature's worth, akin to that of a griffin, yet bearing the weight of the mountains in its bones. It was a gift, a testament to Dragon Mother's prowess, and a silent reminder of the balance between desire and duty within the heart of the cavern.
As the remnants of the feast settled, Bruce, with a glint of triumph in his eye, thought to himself, "Ah, a bountiful meal indeed."
Dragon Mother, her majestic form commanding the edge of the nest, cast a discerning gaze upon Bruce. With a swift motion, she tossed the two-headed rhinoceros into the heart of their dwelling, the gesture deliberate and revealing.
A shiver of realization coursed through Bruce. "That was close," he murmured under his breath. Had he succumbed to his greed for the treasure, Dragon Mother's shrewd eyes would have undoubtedly caught him. The simplicity of her strategy, the subtlety of her surveillance, struck him. It was as if she was fishing, setting a bait not for prey, but for truth.
Bruce couldn't help but feel a twinge of indignation. "She underestimates my intellect," he thought, a wry smile playing upon his lips. Yet, he knew deep down, any other young dragon might have easily fallen for such a ploy.
The realization of walking on a knife's edge in the life of a young dragon sent a chill through Bruce's heart. Shaking off his apprehension, he joined his siblings, Carona and Torenço, in a frenzied dash toward the feast.
But their eagerness was met with a swift rebuke. Dragon Mother's wings, like tempests, sent the trio reeling back. With a deliberate motion, she relocated the rhinoceros to a pool of green liquid near the cliff behind their home—the hatching pool.
The pool, a cradle of corrosive creation, held the secret to life for green dragon hatchlings. Here, amid the biting embrace of acidic waters, the future of their kind was forged. Bruce watched as the carcass of their meal met the pool's surface, sending ripples of acid dancing into the air, anointing them with its primal essence.
To any other creature, this acid would be a death sentence, a cruel end. But to the lineage of the green dragons, it was as harmless as a summer rain, nurturing their resilience and fortifying their innate powers.
With a shared resolve, Bruce and his siblings plunged into the acidic embrace. The feast began anew, the meat of the rhinoceros succumbing to their relentless jaws and claws. The tender flesh was a delight, but Bruce, with a discerning palate, chose the tougher portions—the bones and hide. He had learned that the most challenging morsels held the most profound benefits.
As the feast dwindled, Bruce's girth swelled visibly more than his siblings', a testament to his insatiable appetite and his determination to extract every ounce of strength from their meal. The gaze of Dragon Mother and his siblings, tinged with a mix of bewilderment and disdain, did not escape him.
"Can there not be a Foodie among dragons?" Bruce pondered, his pride slightly wounded. Yet, the knowledge of the power he was accruing, the magic and abilities he was absorbing from his diet, fortified his resolve.
Bruce mused silently, a smirk playing on his lips, "One day, they will see. The dragon they call a Foodie will unveil powers untold. Perhaps then, they will not mock, but revere. For in this dragon's relentless appetite lies the path to greatness."