Nameless

 The older dragon let out a roar, stretching to show the full length of his thick wings, battering with strength against the blasting wind. It's younger son watched.
 "Listen and feel for it," whispered Kryst, the older dragon. He had his test passed long ago, recieving his name proudly.
 The young dragon has known for the moment to come. All dragons did. He was ready to receive his dragon name. Or at least, he thought that he was ready. Memories flashed in his head of the many times of when he hid among the rocks from the chilling air. Recently, he went out a little bit more, edging away through the cave-home he had spent most of his life in. His eyes briefly flashed with his father.
 "Go," said Kryst.
 The young dragon crept forward until he could see what all of the cliff edge had hidden beneath him. The wind was blowing harder now. He felt like a tiny star in the skies when it's dark. He slowly opened his delicate wings open, almost flinching when the air chilled him to his exposed shoulders. He set his gaze forward to the changing horizon in front of him.
 "Don't stop!" exclaimed his father. "Many have gone before you and succeeded! Why bother to hesitate? Unless you want to stay nameless when you become an adult dragon."
 Kryst's comment bit the dragon like a sharp thorn puncturing his wing. He gripped his claws a bit more tightly to the rock now. He raised his tail and wings up, feeling as if the wind was almost sweeping him away. The young dragon gave his wings a flap, before leaping away until he felt his gaze turn downward, spiraling down toward the land below.
 His father's words lingered in him. This time, he growled at the empty air, baring his teeth until he clamped his jaws at nothing. Kryst was tipped over the cliff, watching. The dragon focused on the wind now carving over his shape, still plunging downward. He gave his wings a flap, attempting to push the air down and himself up. He flapped again. No result. At last, he frantically pushed his wings up and down again, aware of the ground plants looking closer to him.
 I'm breaking all of the teachings, he thought. Trying to climb the wind, he heaved one more push with his wings upward, staring at his father, before feeling his chest crush against the hard-packed dirt. The wind betrayed him and left his lungs, leaving him to drift warily to sleep, his eyes closed.
 "A waste of a youngling.." the dragon heard, barely breathing. He felt a sudden whoosh of air push on top of him. Something was blocking his soak of sunlight. It was the only thing he enjoyed now since he couldn't move. Then he heard a deep, throaty growl. The kind used when the older dragons were in a serious situation. A scaled tail swished lightly against his face. He heard the same angry voice again.
 "The fate was too obvious already. Why did I ever spend time on this tiny baby! He shouldn't have been given a chance..."
 He heard heavy footsteps and some muttering. He was alone. He remembered all of his training. Did it really lead to this? Did he as a youngling supposed to stay nameless forever? The dragon tried to move, but he was in pain. He couldn't. Not now.
 He felt the still cool air, damp and thick with all of the leafy scents around him. He opened his eyes to see it was dawn. The dragon tried to stand, but the pain gripped him mercilessly. He fell into sleep again.
 Dazed and confused, he suddenly called out in the silence when he woke. Without thinking, he uttered," Did I do well, Kryst? What's my name-" before drifting off deeper into a darkness too heavy to wake up from.