Scaling Back

Ooh, I have such a massive problem! And no, it has nothing to do with me being a dragon, although that tends to add to the issue if I forget my potion. No, I have a problem dating two hundred years, five months, two weeks, and thirteen days.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

The notion of dragons being greedy and taking all manner of wealth from around a nation is a stereotype, I tell you! We're not all greedy! I mean, there's been some dragons that do this, mostly for trophies or tithes, but I am not one of them!

Okay, okay, let me calm down and explain.

I am called Grounder. Yes, it's not as terrifying as Dreadwings, or Vlad the Conqueror, or a name like Brock! As stated earlier, I have OCD. It's just that, whenever someone came to kill me, I would end up killing them, and maybe eat their horse if I was hungry enough. But then there was the matter of the saddle and shoes of the horse, plus the weaponry and armor of the warrior that came for me. Sometimes, there would even be a satchel of gold and gems! Why would a warrior go off anywhere carrying that on him or her? Haven't they ever heard of bandits? And all this stuff lying about just made a mess, and I couldn't leave it all there. So, I started bringing it back to my cave. Yes, I discussed stereotyping, but I am a huge dragon! Not as big as a few of those rolling-hills-sized behemoths whose arrogance smell almost as bad as their farts (we're full of gas, how else do you think we breath fire?), but I am large enough to crush a house. Not intentionally, mind you...

Anyway! I don't fly a lot, hence the name that I am stuck with for the next few centuries. Along the way to my home, more warriors would attack me, and I would burn them away, eat their horses (and any other animals that they brought with them), and take their things as opposed to leaving them behind – I don't like littering! I even spent an hour or so because one of the warriors was wearing jewelry, why would she do that? It's a good way to have any opponent grab onto you, let alone a dragon! I picked them up, put them inside my newly-acquired satchels, and then I continued on. It took me a couple days and three hunting parties before I finally came home.

I have no mate, nor do I share the home with any dragon; the only living being that came out to greet me was Fred. Fred is a flying squirrel. He likes me. I liked him. I saved him from a bunch of crows when he was little, and he has been with me since, first annoying me but, over time, growing on me. I guess you could say that he appreciated not being murdered!

Okay, okay, bad pun.

So Fred comes out to greet me and see what I brought this time. He seemed disappointed that, again, I brought nothing but treasure, until I took one of the satchels and dumped some fresh fruit out. He went ecstatic, and flew over to the food; he would leave me be for a few hours as I brought the stuff inside. I never dump food on my floor while inside the cave, and Fred doesn't dump pieces of the food inside the cave. Both of us also use the woods as our personal space for exercises, and the marsh beyond for, well, “water-closet needs”. Hey, I don't have a bathroom in my cave! Besides, no one and their horse would traverse a march without knowing what was in it before they arrived, right?

After this haul, I looked around at the space in my cave, only to realize a problem; there was no space!

Sure, I could just throw it on top of the rest of the treasures, weapons, and leather saddles and sacks, but to what end? Seriously, is there even an end to this mountain inside of my molehill? Well, cave actually, but you get the point! I can't put this pile in my hands anywhere, except for the already shrinking entrance/exit. I sighed, and let the trinkets slip between my fingers. Then, I too slip to the floor.

I must have dozed off, because Fred was running up and down my side. He only gets this excited when humans were near-

THAT'S IT!

I sat up quickly, catching Fred before he hit the ground; in frustration, he nipped at me. It's okay, sorry Fred, but you just provided me with an answer! Humans created these things, humans dropped these things, and humans could take them back!

Okay, okay, humans only dropped these things because I killed them and took the items, or I scared them off and took the items, but it's the only plan I have. Perhaps this group of humans could take the items off my hands? I really have no need for coins or cups, swords or spears, jewelry or gems, or even saddles. Imagine, some kid riding a dragon with a saddle strapped to its back – ridiculous!

I crawled out of my cave, and I sniffed the air. Marsh, woods, nuts and fruit, Fred's poop...

...aaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnndddddd there they are! Just due East of my direction. With Fred on my back, I made my way over to the source of the scent.

Believe it or not, humans really do keep themselves clean, it's just that their use of perfumes tends to attract certain animals to them. Not that I am calling myself or any dragon an animal, we have more pride than that. But, after a trek, I found the humans stinking to high heaven of their perfume; it smelled so good that it almost made me gag. I cleared my throat, swallowing any attempt at accidental barfage, and I asked:

“Excuse me? I was wondering if I could interest you-”

The women started screaming like children. They ran like the little buggers, too. The men held up sticks and backed away slowly. Right, like that will help; why don't you also wave torches in my face? It will have the same effect.

So, they ran off, and they left their tents. Underneath each one was either food, medicine, and oh, joy, more weapons and treasures! For heaven's sake, people! “Hey, come back and get your crap!” I'm sorry, I just lost my temper a little. I'm just tired of doing this, you know? Well, the humans did not come back; they just took their clothing on their backs and their walking sticks and made for the treeline. I sighed again, and started grabbing items and rolling up the tents.

They could have brought horses.