Playing With Fire is a short fanfiction by Lightningstrike from RapidClan. It is copyright to her and her alone.
Character Call


Raptor just wanted his family back. He just wanted to go back to the time when he and his siblings played in the skies, the time when the whole family came together each evening to eat dinner. But who knew such a harmless little request could become the tangled web it is.

Act 1: Spirit Stone

Raptor could not believe this had become his life. The Orphanage. It was a horrid place, the food was either too soggy or too rubbery, the other orphans there were often bullies, and the caretakers made sure that everyone was having the worst time of their life. Oh how he missed the freshly killed prey dad brought home, or the fun games that his sister thought up of, or his mother's kind voice.

"Lights out time." One of the caretakers said.

"Some kind of care you're taking." Raptor mumbled as he settled into the den. His bunk was shared with Jet, a really nice SkyWing. She was probably his best friend so far. Maybe it was because she reminded him of his sister Dawn. She was always a bit of a trickster...

Raptor yawned and tried to sleep. Suddenly someone poked him. "Jet not now, you can get punished!" Raptor whispered.

"No, I really need to tell you this." Jet whispered back.


"You gotta listen," Jet persisted. "You know how your parents and siblings got killed in that SeaWing attack?"

Raptor was silent. Two years ago, SeaWings launched an attack on an innocent village and killed many of the residents, including dragonets. Dawn... He hadn't spoken for months after that. That is, until Jet finally got him talking. He was only four years old at the time. "Yeah?"

"Well, I heard these dragons conversing, and they were talking about this magic stone that brings back the dead."

Raptor froze. "So why are you telling me this?"

"Just so you can have some happy thoughts before bed." Jet replied.

"..." Raptor paused. "Thank you."

"Good night." Jet went back to bed.

"Night." Raptor did too.

But Raptor did not go to sleep. He waited for an hour or two, just thinking about the stone Jet mentioned. Is it worth it? He thought. Surely it's not too much to ask if I brought back my family. Raptor decided to take the dive. He cloaked himself in a blanket and tiptoed toward the door. He peeked through the crack and checked for any caretakers, and then silently slipped outside.

His breath came out as white puffs as Raptor walked along the streets. The lanterns outside illuminated his path. Raptor arrived to the location he wanted to be and removed his hood. 

Public Library.

Raptor snuck inside, creeping through the labyrinth of shelves. Scrolls sat on each one of them, dusty and worn from time. No one was in today. He knew that since the SeaWing attack, the library was closed because the repair bill was just too great for one tiny village. His mother used to bring home scrolls and read to them before bed. The SeaWings may have called it revenge and justice, but Raptor called it the shredding of families, the tearing of hearts. He hoped there were enough scrolls recovered from that day, but many of the shelves were toppled and cracked. Raptor never really knew how strong their tails were until they were able to crack down buildings.

Raptor tried to steer away from the topic and keep his mind on the task. He ran his claws over the scrolls, reading the labels written on them. He picked one up from a toppled shelf. Yes, just what I need. He sat down and read. After a moment of studying, Raptor stood up and was once again on the streets.
Playing with fire

by Luckybird