The Stray Hatchling

“There’s nothing left—nothing!” Tears obscured her vision. Angeline gripped the tattered remains of a cloak. The cloak he—no! She couldn’t bear it.

Sputtering flames rose, illuminating the charred ruins of her small cottage. She stumbled. Embers glowed, smoldering in what was once the kitchen. Knees hit splintered wood. A cry escaped her lips. She wanted to close her eyes and believe this was just a nightmare.

The dragons came out of nowhere. Flaming, clawing, and destroying everything within reach. Following their path of destruction lay flattened houses, charred fields, and crumbled stone walls.

It took twenty knights to slay the three beasts. During the devastation many had been unable to escape.

Angeline’s farm was lost and so was her livelihood. But nothing compared with the loss of her Henry. It was like a spear piercing its way into her thoughts.

“He’s gone. Henry…my love…my life…now we cannot have a family. You saved me by pushing me into the cellar. But why didn’t you come too?” she moaned.

Tears tumbled. Cries lifted to the darkened sky. She didn’t know if she could love again. Not after this.

“I swear on my life, if I ever see a dragon again, I will find my courage and slay it. Dragons are my sworn enemy. I won’t ever hide like a rabbit in a den again!” she bellowed.

Night fell. Darkness enveloped the ruins. A gentle rain snuffed the remaining flames.

Angeline wandered the grounds of her farm aimlessly, in search of what she knew was not. She came to where the barn once stood. Only a pile of rubble and one partly standing beam remained. This was where Henry had asked her to be his last winter. She tore her eyes away.

A soft whining tickled her ears. Her heart leaped, whether from fright or curiosity she didn’t know.  

What’s that?

She followed the sound. Something stirred at the edge of the barn. Biting her lip, she spun around. Staring back at her were the largest eyes she had ever seen.

A stray dragon hatchling?

The hatchling was the size of a small cat. She knew it couldn’t be more than a day old. Its tiny horns were still covered in specks of eggshell and its wings were still unbroken buds.  

It cooed softly then curled into a tight ball, eyes wide, tiny snout peering up at her.

She clenched her fist, biting back tears.

It’s a stray now. The knights killed its family. No way it’ll last long out here.

“Good riddance,” she said aloud. But the hatchling only cooed innocently.

Emotions dark and frightening fought within her thoughts.

I swore to destroy my enemy!

She reached for a stone. Her hand trembled. The hatchling edged closer and nuzzled her foot, softly squeaking.

Ragged breaths. I swore! Fingers clenched the stone, arm raised.

I must—but no.

Her hand dropped to the side, stone tumbling from her fingers. This is not right. I can’t do it. Fate must have it.

She turned, and strode across the field, away from the dragon hatchling.

The night was cold and long—empty without her husband.

She awoke to a cloudy pink sky. Beside her something wiggled. A dusty blue scaled lump rested at her side. Startled, she jumped to her feet.

“Why are you here?”

The dragon tilted its head up, eyes sparkling with curious wonder.

“No! Go away! Your family destroyed mine. Destroyed everything I had. I cannot—no will not help you.”

The dragon hatchling cooed. She thought it sounded oddly like a human infant. I pang of sadness ripped through her soul.

The dragon hatchling waddled over and rubbed its snout against her leg. She bristled. But try as she might she couldn’t bring herself to push it away or harm it.

The baby dragon opened its mouth, its toothless gums gaping at her. The display made her think of a baby bird begging for worms.

Its eyes were gold, rimmed with specks of silver. Its four tiny stubby legs barely kept it standing, and its large head made it look like it might topple over.

An instinct sparked within her, a motherly instinct warm and caring. She could not ignore it.

She sighed, gazing at the little creature. It was helpless, alone, and probably hungry. Truly they both lost everything.

Against her better judgment, she reached for the dragon.

“Fine, I will feed you but then you’re on your own stray.”  

But she had one problem. She had no idea what a baby dragon could eat.

She hid the dragon in a pot and hurried to the makeshift market in the village a little over a mile away.

As she perused the meager items, she began to wonder at her actions.

Why am I doing this? That thing will be a menace one day. It could kill someone’s family like they did mine…and yet when I look into its pure eyes...

She bought a jug of milk and a loaf of stale bread.

The hatchling was crying when she returned. She removed the top on the pot. Immediately the hatchling scurried out then wrapped its tail around her legs, tiny body trembling.

“Here, I got food. Now eat. This is all I will do for you.” She presented the milk and bread. The dragon tilted its head.

“Right, you probably don’t know how to eat this.” The dragon opened its mouth expectantly.

Angeline had an idea. She used a cloth forming a makeshift spout and poured the milk into the cloth letting drips fall to the dragon’s tender mouth. It squealed with delight and exuberantly licked up the milk.

“Hungry little monster.” When she was done the hatchling curled up at her feet and fell sleep.

Oh, great. You’re supposed to leave.

She couldn’t bring herself to wake the creature. With each little puff of its snout, its tiny pale blue belly rose and fell. Drool oozed from its mouth. She marveled at the tiny thing, so innocent. But she knew it wouldn’t stay that way. It had to go.

When it awoke, she carried it deep into the forest and left it there.

Once back, with shovel in hand, she gazed at the rubble. “I must rebuild.”

Hours passed, her back ached, arms felt limp, and her fingers were stripped raw with blisters, yet she pressed on clearing away debris.

A cooing noise startled her. Those large gold eyes glinted at her from atop the stone wall.

“You’re back? I told you one meal then you must leave! I can’t take care of you,” she declared, waving at it.

She stomped her foot, but the hatchling stayed, staring at her with unblinking eyes.

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

Again, Angeline took the hatchling into the woods, deeper this time.

However, by nightfall it returned and cuddled next to her. Too exhausted to do anything she let it sleep.

Misty rays of sun beat through the clouds. Another day of work ahead. She sighed deeply. I must get the hatchling to leave.

The dragon pranced about. She swatted a broom at it. Still, it wasn’t shaken. She tried to scare it away with loud noises but it only joined in with little growls thinking it was a game.

Momentarily defeated, she gave up. Work must progress. She gripped the shovel, fingers raw.

The dragon waddled up to her as she shoveled.

“I’m working can’t you see? Go away!” she said, pushing it away with her foot. It occupied itself playing with a stick.

Later that day she tried throwing pebbles at it. But it caught them with its jaws and brought them back to her and released the slobbery stones at her feet. She laughed at the irony.

Every time she purposely left the hatchling far from her property it found its way back. Nothing worked to make it leave.

“I guess I can’t get rid of you, can I stray?” She petted the hatchling, a strange feeling sweeping over her.

Days passed. She worked hard clearing the rubble. And soon she wasn’t bothered by the dragon’s company. After a week she cleared one field for crops.

“You need a name. I can’t just call you stray dragon.”

The dragon walked through a trail of dust leaving little white paw marks on the ground.

“How about Dustpaw? A good name for a male dragon, right?” The dragon bobbed its head, snout wrinkling, a toothless grin forming.

Dustpaw watched her every move with curious eyes. He even helped her clear scraps from the debris, lifting small pieces in his jaws.

It came time to dig some deep holes for a fence and Dustpaw gleefully joined, using his little claws to dig.

“That’s actually helpful, thanks.”

Each night Dustpaw slept curled up next to her. The feeling that was once revulsion slowly turned to familiarity then comfort. She looked forward to snuggling him.

Angeline still needed a house, so she started one beside the ruins. Hewing trees, chopping wood with a borrowed axe, she made decent progress.  

After finding some of her tools destroyed, it became obvious Dustpaw needed training. She taught him how to be gentle, how not to bite down on hands, and how to carry something in his mouth softly. Dustpaw grew tamer, but every time Angeline thought she’d mastered the dragon she found herself being humbled.

One day Dustpaw came to her skipping with joy. In his mouth was a pinecone. With utmost care and pride, he presented it to her, slowly dropping it out of his mouth then stepping back, tail ceaselessly moving.

“Is that a gift? For me?”

Dustpaw nodded his oversized head. He nudged the pinecone closer.

Smiling, she picked it up. Dustpaw purred joyfully.

“Thank you.” A bond that she didn’t think possible was forming.

Soon little white teeth formed in his jaws. He would need meat now. But thankfully Dustpaw knew how to hunt. Brimming with pride, brought back mice, voles, and crickets. She knew it was vital she instilled rules in him.

“You are not to ever bite, or harm anyone,” she told him sternly.

Dustpaw looked at her dubious. He nuzzled her palm.

Where once there was deep anger and sadness, now fondness grew. She didn’t understand it herself. She would never forget what she had lost. But with the busyness of each day her mind was too full to mourn and remain sad.  

A hot sun beat the hardened mud and splintered wood. Angeline smiled proudly at the newly finished hut. “Not as good as my cottage, but it will do for now.”

Inside, she neatly arranged the hut with her few things. She placed a vase of flowers on the rugged table and a carefully preserved cloak on the wall, a memento of Henry.

“I must go to town for food. Be good.” She patted Dustpaw’s scaly head.

Dark clouds lingered in the distance as she returned from her trip. A thunder clacked. Her feet splashed in puddles.

The storm must have just passed. Good thing I stayed at the market talking to Mr. Frandle.

Humming happily, she creaked open the door. It feels good to be home.

Dustpaw charged her, trembling, tugging something along the floor behind him. Angeline reached down and pulled it from him. He whined.

She flinched, eyes widening, as she recognized what she held.

“It—it’s Henry’s cloak. The one he wore when...” Her stomach churned.

New teeth holes and claw marks riddled the already tattered cloth nigh into shreds.

“How did you get this?” Frantic she looked about the room. Disarray blared in her eyes as tears formed.

The table lay on its side, scratches splintering across its surface. The flowers scattered on the floor in fragments. Plates, cups, pots littered the ground, some broken. Her bed was ripped apart, the hay piled in a corner. The walls and floor were punctured with claw marks. The wood chest where she kept her most treasured belongs was cracked with splintering claw marks and little bites along the edges, lid askew. The contents were huddled in a crumpled pile.

She glared at Dustpaw.

“You destroyed it. You destroyed everything I worked so hard to create! Why did you do this? I trusted you. I tamed you. But you’re a monster! What’s stopping you from destroying everything else?”

Dustpaw clambered to her legs trying to nuzzle her. She kicked him back. Memories of what she had lost flooded her.

“This is all your fault. I can’t take it again. You are my enemy! Out!” She pointed.

Dustpaw refused to move.

Fingers curled around a broom. She waved it wildly, shooing the little dragon out the door. Dustpaw scurried away.

“Leave! Don’t return! You’re a menace! My enemy!” she screeched.

Dustpaw stared at her, eyes filling with tears.

“Go!” She swung at him yelling and chased him to the edge of the farm.

With a mournful look, Dustpaw disappeared into the forest.

The afternoon was terribly hot. Dustpaw did not return like normal.

She collapsed beside her destroyed house, burying her face in her hands.

Strangely, all she could think about was Dustpaw. How life would have been completely unbearable without him.

Why do I think of him? Do I care for him? Do I love him?

She couldn’t imagine a day without his antics. Without his goofy grins, and flopping about. Without the gifts of slobbery rocks, moss, and pinecones that filled her soul with joy.

The warmth he brought each night laying nestled next to her.

And yet she couldn’t get over how he destroyed the house and ripped apart Henry’s cloak. Why did he suddenly turn destructive after being so good? Its unlike him. But deep down she knew eventually it might happen. He was a dragon.

Footsteps. She looked out. Three knights approached.

“Miss, have you seen or heard anything odd today?”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve reports of a dragon hatchling heard nearby. The cries are unmistakable. During that intense storm several people heard it. We must find and slay the beast before it reaches adulthood and can destroy us.”

Angeline paled. Conflicted feelings clashed within her.

I sent Dustpaw away…now they will kill him. But isn’t it for the best? How could I be such a fool to think I could raise him? He destroyed everything. He’s dangerous.

“That storm must have really frightened it. The villagers heard its cries from half a mile away. Good thing too, otherwise we never would have known it was here. Did you not hear anything miss?”

Angeline gripped her tunic.

The storm. Cries? Dustpaw? Understanding clicked in her frazzled mind. Is that why he destroyed my things? The storm frightened him?

Dustpaw’s cute round eyes and stubby snout came to mind.

The thought of any harm coming to him shook her bones. An urge to protect sprang inside her.

She shook her head. “I heard nothing.”

The men nodded then left. They headed in the direction of the forest. Where Dustpaw—she gasped.

What have I done? He was scared. I must find him first.

Angeline sprinted across the muddy field and into the forest. She called his name again and again. No reply.

She stopped to gather her breath, listening. Footsteps pounded nearby. She hid behind a tree. A soft squeal echoed, followed by scurrying.  

She poked out. One of the knights chased something, sword held out.  

“I found you dragon! Now you shall pay!” bellowed the knight.

Angeline gasped. She saw a small blue tail bobbing among the thick weeds. She picked up a rock and threw it in the opposite direction. The knight chased the sound and vanished into the woods.

“Dustpaw! Come!” Angeline whispered.

A soft whimper came.

“Dustpaw!” she called again. Poking out from under a fern appeared a blue snout and misty eyes. The dragon hesitated.

“There you are!” She scooped him up in her arms.

“I’m sorry! You were frightened. That’s why you destroyed my house. I forgive you.” Dustpaw pressed his snout to her cheek and gave her a lick.

“Let’s go find a new safe place to live.” She hugged the little dragon, a warm comforting feeling filling her soul. Once my enemy. But no more. She deeply cared for the stray.

“Dustpaw, I love you.” She held him tight.

She couldn’t believe that against all odds, the little dragon had crept into her heart melting away her anger and regret.

A sense of joy filled her, as she realized she had overcome the hardest of emotions, to love one’s enemy.

Henry would be proud.