Fall, 1307
The coming rainstorm violently rustled leaves barely clinging upon the trees, and small drops began hitting the young dragon’s back. In the distance, the low rumble of thunder echoed ominously. It would get bad soon.
The little dragon scrambled through the woods, trampling over hills and hollows, through ravines, over river-smoothed rocks and small creeks and under fallen trees, desperately trying to find shelter. Though his core body temperature was high, the frigid wind cut through his scales and each raindrop was like a sharp pinprick.
Finally, as he worked his way through a muddy cove a promising refuge came up. At one end of a shallow ravine there was a small cavity formed by the roots of an overarching tree. Without hesitation, the dragon squeezed and immediately wrapped himself in a tight bean shape, warming his paws and tail under his body which was draped by his wings. The crevice scarcely managed to fully fit his frame, but it did, Draco’s snout just barely being covered by the root-topped tangle that made up the lip.
Just in time.
The storm came in force, snapping branches and swaying even good sized trees, sending the rain into a crescendo.
Thankful for the roof over his head, Draco curled up in the little hollow, watching the wind blow the leaves and rain by, pattering on the tree atop him.
As he lay there in that little hole, watching the storm work its fury in the woods, the dragon wondered if he had made the right choice.
He had his freedom, but that was it.
He was cold and hungry and miserable.
It had only been a week since Draco had left the Haight Manor, and already the joy of his emancipation had been sorely tempered. Eager to be on his own, the dragon had eschewed a household escort to the mountains, which turned out to be a mistake. Able to fly only small distances, the dragon ended up walking- or more specifically crawling- for miles. There had been poor encounters with neighboring farms and homes, with rocks and arrows being loosened at him and hunting parties with horses and dogs chasing him into the thickets and hills. While the dragon had been able to flee these incidents with only minor injuries, they had left him frightened and wary of further interactions and caused him to give a wide berth to any other signs of human presence. Consequently Draco’s movement speed declined, and by the time he had finally left the core of the human settlements the dragon was out of the food that had been packed for him. At first he tried hunting, but deer were not particularly frequent in the areas still frequented by human, and Draco knew better than to try to go after livestock, so he ended up subsisting mainly on small game and an occasional stray sheep or cow- when he was able to do so of course, which frequently was not the case.
The wind continued howling and the rain continued in waves of quiet followed by downpouring. The little dragon lay brooding in the darkness. It was cold. It was wet. Pangs of hunger had long since stopped growling and dulled into a hollow soreness, his legs were aching and his paws were starting to blister.
Draco missed home. He missed a warm blanket and a crackling fire, good food and warm drink to fill his belly.
Was that home though?
Draco remembered that fey’s comments when he had taken down that white hart so many years ago.
He was heading towards his real home right?
But his older home was nicer. It was more comfortable.
He didn’t even really have a new home yet.
Yet Draco couldn’t see himself humiliatingly crawling back to the Haights. As pathetic a state as he was in now, he couldn't bear the thought of acknowledging failure and disappointment more.
Vaguely, deep from the recesses of his memory, Draco also recalled another home. A mother and a brother. They had been cruelly taken away from him. Draco had been saved, had gotten a new adoptive family. The Haights had been kind and generous, more than the dragon could have ever hoped for, but still they always treated him differently, and all of them knew that.
Farmington Manor had been home for a time, but it was no longer his home.
Draco did not regret living for so long with the Haights, but it had finally been time to move on.
When he stopped being a pet and became a dragon, that was when that old home disappeared. And Nigel knew that.
That’s why Mr. Haight gave Draco the Dragoneye.
Draco grabbed the little trinket hanging from his necked and looked at it again.
“This world that you are joining may be cold, and it may cruel, but this will be your view back here-your little dragon eye to our hearth. When you are alone in the world, remember this and remember you have friends.”
Despite everything, Draco smiled, a bit of tears welling in his eyes. Nigel was right.
The dragon curled the Dragoneye in his paw.
He would succeed in this world. He would justify Lord Haight’s faith in him. He would prove that he has what it takes to himself.
Home is where you make it. Here, in this little hole, with the Dragoneye, this was Draco’s home.
At least for tonight.
Bob Dylan - Shelter from the Storm
Courtesy of theroguez!
The coming rainstorm violently rustled leaves barely clinging upon the trees, and small drops began hitting the young dragon’s back. In the distance, the low rumble of thunder echoed ominously. It would get bad soon.
The little dragon scrambled through the woods, trampling over hills and hollows, through ravines, over river-smoothed rocks and small creeks and under fallen trees, desperately trying to find shelter. Though his core body temperature was high, the frigid wind cut through his scales and each raindrop was like a sharp pinprick.
Finally, as he worked his way through a muddy cove a promising refuge came up. At one end of a shallow ravine there was a small cavity formed by the roots of an overarching tree. Without hesitation, the dragon squeezed and immediately wrapped himself in a tight bean shape, warming his paws and tail under his body which was draped by his wings. The crevice scarcely managed to fully fit his frame, but it did, Draco’s snout just barely being covered by the root-topped tangle that made up the lip.
Just in time.
The storm came in force, snapping branches and swaying even good sized trees, sending the rain into a crescendo.
Thankful for the roof over his head, Draco curled up in the little hollow, watching the wind blow the leaves and rain by, pattering on the tree atop him.
As he lay there in that little hole, watching the storm work its fury in the woods, the dragon wondered if he had made the right choice.
He had his freedom, but that was it.
He was cold and hungry and miserable.
It had only been a week since Draco had left the Haight Manor, and already the joy of his emancipation had been sorely tempered. Eager to be on his own, the dragon had eschewed a household escort to the mountains, which turned out to be a mistake. Able to fly only small distances, the dragon ended up walking- or more specifically crawling- for miles. There had been poor encounters with neighboring farms and homes, with rocks and arrows being loosened at him and hunting parties with horses and dogs chasing him into the thickets and hills. While the dragon had been able to flee these incidents with only minor injuries, they had left him frightened and wary of further interactions and caused him to give a wide berth to any other signs of human presence. Consequently Draco’s movement speed declined, and by the time he had finally left the core of the human settlements the dragon was out of the food that had been packed for him. At first he tried hunting, but deer were not particularly frequent in the areas still frequented by human, and Draco knew better than to try to go after livestock, so he ended up subsisting mainly on small game and an occasional stray sheep or cow- when he was able to do so of course, which frequently was not the case.
The wind continued howling and the rain continued in waves of quiet followed by downpouring. The little dragon lay brooding in the darkness. It was cold. It was wet. Pangs of hunger had long since stopped growling and dulled into a hollow soreness, his legs were aching and his paws were starting to blister.
Draco missed home. He missed a warm blanket and a crackling fire, good food and warm drink to fill his belly.
Was that home though?
Draco remembered that fey’s comments when he had taken down that white hart so many years ago.
He was heading towards his real home right?
But his older home was nicer. It was more comfortable.
He didn’t even really have a new home yet.
Yet Draco couldn’t see himself humiliatingly crawling back to the Haights. As pathetic a state as he was in now, he couldn't bear the thought of acknowledging failure and disappointment more.
Vaguely, deep from the recesses of his memory, Draco also recalled another home. A mother and a brother. They had been cruelly taken away from him. Draco had been saved, had gotten a new adoptive family. The Haights had been kind and generous, more than the dragon could have ever hoped for, but still they always treated him differently, and all of them knew that.
Farmington Manor had been home for a time, but it was no longer his home.
Draco did not regret living for so long with the Haights, but it had finally been time to move on.
When he stopped being a pet and became a dragon, that was when that old home disappeared. And Nigel knew that.
That’s why Mr. Haight gave Draco the Dragoneye.
Draco grabbed the little trinket hanging from his necked and looked at it again.
“This world that you are joining may be cold, and it may cruel, but this will be your view back here-your little dragon eye to our hearth. When you are alone in the world, remember this and remember you have friends.”
Despite everything, Draco smiled, a bit of tears welling in his eyes. Nigel was right.
The dragon curled the Dragoneye in his paw.
He would succeed in this world. He would justify Lord Haight’s faith in him. He would prove that he has what it takes to himself.
Home is where you make it. Here, in this little hole, with the Dragoneye, this was Draco’s home.
At least for tonight.
Bob Dylan - Shelter from the Storm
Courtesy of theroguez!
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Western Dragon
Gender Male
Size 1269 x 912px
Listed in Folders
cool i love dragons keep doing what you like doing both of you
I want to lean beside him and give him some company! Poor derg...
The Dragoneye and that message was a really sweet gift from Merah's family.
It’s cool to see Mera’s origins here, after your previous post where he’s a seasoned veterans.
Thanks! He does have a learning curve that I think I'll drip out in flashbacks.
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