The Dragon's Stash

Galli “the Quiet One” had a dilemma. The dragon crossed one arm over her chest, claws resting in the crook of her other arm, which cupped her chin. She tapped a talon against her cheek, deep in thought. What to do, what to do…? She was, for the most part, typical of European dragons: four-legged, green-scaled, with bat-shaped wings on her back, possessed fiery breath (despite her obsessive dental hygiene). Her head was reminiscent of a skinny crocodile with horns sprouting out from her forehead, yet she was unusual in one very important respect.

Other dragons hoarded gold. 

Galli hoarded yarn. 

Galli loved yarn. All kinds of yarn! Itchy Icelandic wool, softer merino, cloud-like alpaca, heavenly cashmere - oh! What she wouldn’t give to have more cashmere! The green dragon once even had an unhealthily large supply of mohair, until she attempted to knit a lace shawl out of lace-weight mohair yarn; after starting, ripping out, and restarting that project five or six times, she finally got so frustrated she set the whole thing on fire with her own breath. Mohair could burn in hell, as far as she cared. 

Back to her current dilemma, she was getting more and more frustrated. Unlike her dragon brethren, who tended to keep their gold and treasure in one massive pile in their lairs, Galli preferred organization. And moth balls. Couldn’t forget the moth balls. Her massive yarn hoard was organized by weight, fiber type, color family, and yardage, each bin painstakingly labeled with her own elegant, flowing calligraphy. By far her biggest bins were for yarn scraps, leftovers from finished projects that she swore she would use up one day, but never did. She eyed these bins and wondered if she should make a pair of Frankensocks with the leftover sock yarn, or a crazy sweater with the leftover worsted weight wool. But then there was that new DK superwash she just bought…

“ARGH!” she finally snapped, letting a plume of flames erupt from deep in her throat toward the ceiling. Smoke still trailing from her nostrils, she crossed her arms and pouted, glaring down at the knitting books and magazines laid out on the floor in front of her. In addition to yarn, she also hoarded an impressive library of knitting books, magazines, and online patterns. But after hours - days, even - of flipping through pages and binders of her purchased and downloaded patterns, nothing, absolutely nothing, inspired her. 

She huffed, a few little flames escaping her thin, scaly lips. Galli needed something to do. She’d just finished an intricate cabled sweater that had taken her months to knit, and was proudly wearing it now. She remembered how frustrated she got after noticing mistakes in her cables and needing to use lifelines to rip out a couple rows, sometimes even a couple feet of complicated cables. She could read knitting charts like no one’s business, reading them like an archaeologist deciphering hieroglyphics. This sweater had been her sole focus for the past six months, easily, and she didn’t care how hot the weather was outside, she was going to wear this thing now, damn it. At least this time she learned to be patient when blocking it; once, she had gotten so impatient for her blocked project to fully dry that she breathed on it a bit…and months of painstaking work on a lace shawl was in cinders. Galli wasn’t making that mistake again.

Sighing, the green dragon picked up her phone and opened the app again. Surely Ravelry must have updated with new patterns by now, right? Previous searches of the social media site devoted to knitting, crochet, and all things fiber had been as fruitless as her search through her hard copy resources. 

No, nothing. No updates to her saved searches, no new patterns, no featured projects on the main page that caught her attention…

No more shawls, she decided. She’d made many shawls over the years, but never wore them. She hated knitting scarves, no matter what pattern attributes it had, because they were just long, thin rectangles that took forever to make. A cowl could be fun; there were a couple patterns that would be perfect for mindless binge-watching knitting, and others that would be a real challenge. But not brioche. Like working with mohair, she refused to work a brioche pattern ever again. 

Galli didn’t have enough to make another sweater to fit her, but looking at the gigantic stash in front of her, she couldn’t justify buying more yarn just for one project when she already had so much. That, and her bank account wouldn’t let her entertain such an idea.

Her family wasn’t “knit-worthy,” which she found out the hard way. Galli had made her sister a custom sweater, and warned her - more than once - that it was hand wash or dry clean only. Yet it took less than a month before that sweater went through the washer and shrank down to the size of a human. Still, Galli gave her another chance, knitting a full set of baby things - blankets, booties, baby sweaters and hats - when her sister’s eggs hatched. That, too, was a disaster: acrylic yarn, while easy to wash considering new babies could be quite messy, was not ideal for fire-breathing babies. The rest of her family didn’t seem to appreciate her handmade gifts, either, so that wasn’t an option.

Galli’s friends were certainly knit-worthy…but they were also knitters or crocheters, so unless she was giving them yarn, it was senseless to make them something they could have easily made themselves. And dragons did not part with their hoard as-is, full stop. At least not willingly. Galli’s unorthodox hoard notwithstanding, that was one hill she would gladly die on with her fellow dragons who had more “traditional” hoards. She would happily knit someone a pair of socks, but drew the line at giving them the yarn to make it themselves.

Finally she slumped down and sighed heavily, running her clawed hands over her face in a mix of frustration and desperation. She was bored, her claws itched to feel the needles in her hands again, feel the soft yarn against her fingers as she worked the fiber into…something.

The dragon’s phone pinged with an alert and Galli groaned. If it was her mother asking her how to reset her password one more time…

Nope, worse. A NextDoor notification. She honestly didn’t know why she bothered with this app; it was almost as much of a dumpster fire as other social media sites. Still, sometimes it could be good for a laugh at others’ expense (or if she needed a good plumber). She opened the notification and rolled her eyes. Another complaint about noise disturbance…next to a construction zone. 

“Lady,” Galli muttered, “What did you think you’d get? Jeez, these people…”

She kept scrolling, occasionally raising a brow at the odd post here or there about “suspicious persons” in the neighborhood; if that “suspicious person” was wearing a county uniform and checking the sewer drains, electrical poles, or assessing potholes for repairs, that was hardly “suspicious.”

“Some people…” she muttered, and kept scrolling. The dragon knew from experience that she’d eventually come across a post so offensive that it would raise her blood pressure a fair bit, but when one was holed up in a mountain fortress, protecting their most precious possessions all the time…well, she had to get her kicks from somewhere.

Then something caught her attention, but in a good way. Some lady had posted a request for NICU volunteers. While Galli felt awful for the little babies and their parents, she always assumed there wasn’t anything she could do. It’s not like a hospital would happily let a 60-foot-tall fire-breathing dragon through their doors as a volunteer. Several commenters had already offered to help, but one comment especially caught her eye:

“These babies also need blankets and lovies,” the commenter said. “I’ve crocheted hats and little octopus lovies for NICU babies. The idea is the babies grab the octopus tentacles so they don't accidentally pull off the cords and IVs.”

What a neat idea, Galli thought. Her eyes flicked up to her bins with yarn scraps and her mind wandered. Then she reopened Ravelry, searched for “charity octopus” and immediately found dozens of free patterns. The dragon couldn’t help but smile a little. They were pretty cute…and looked like they’d knit up pretty quick.

But that wasn’t all. There were related patterns for baby blankets, hats, (human) children’s clothing…

Galli could’ve kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner. Maybe it was because she was a dragon, and it wasn’t inherently in a dragon’s nature to be so…‘giving’. But maybe something like this would get her out of her slump, and keep her occupied with something that had a higher purpose than yet one more hand-knit sweater or yet another forsaken shawl.

She opened her phone’s browser, entered “knitting charities” in the search bar, and waited for the results to come in.

“What in the hell…?”

Galli looked up from her latest NICU octopus, the crochet hook idle for the first time in hours. It had been a week since Galli’s search for knitting charities, and Menisso the Firestarter, Galli’s long-time knitting friend, had just arrived at the green dragon’s lair for their weekly knitting "Binge’n’Stitch." A few others were supposed to come over, but Galli was so caught up with her latest obsession, she had completely forgotten to clean up, or buy snacks.

Menisso, a red dragon, looked around the lair, unsure what to make of the piles of tiny baby hats, crocheted stuffed animals, and… “Is that…an octopus?” the red dragon asked, pointing a talon at the multi-colored project in Galli’s claws. Galli proudly held it up. 

“Yup! Isn’t it cute?!” she gushed. “I’m addicted to these things.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” her friend said, looking at the huge pile of colorful octopuses at the green dragon’s side. “So, I know you’re kinda in a knitting slump and all, but what’s with all…this?” she asked, gesturing to the multitude and colorful variety of decidedly non-dragon-sized items. 

“Charity knitting!” Galli said proudly. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner!”

Menisso crossed her arms and raised a brow, her knitting bag dangling from her elbow. “Um…because you’re a dragon? We don’t exactly give things away, y’know.”

“I know, I know, but hear me out: I saw a post on NextDoor...”

“I thought you deleted that app?”

“Eh, it’s good for a laugh sometimes. Anyway, I saw a post asking for volunteers and donations at the local NICU, and I started learning about all these knitting charities: blankets for kids in hospitals, wool hats and gloves for sailors on cargo ships, winter gear for disadvantaged kids…and octopuses for preemies! See, they grab onto these tentacles instead of the cords and IVs, and it soothes them. Isn’t that sweet?”

“Wait. This is all for human kids?” the red dragon asked, skeptical. “Why would you want to help humans? They’re the ones that started hunting us to extinction, just because we ate a few sheep a few hundred years ago!”

“Yeah, that was a bit of an overreaction,” Galli admitted, then shrugged. “Humans gonna do what humans gonna do, right? But I’m not just knitting for humans. See those boxes over there?”

Menisso glanced over at some large cardboard boxes against the wall, labeled in Galli’s elegant cursive with black Sharpie. 

The red dragon was now even more confused. “‘Plushies for Pixies’? ‘Blankets for Basiliks’? And what the hell is ‘Project Cryptid’?”

“Those are all charities for ‘mythical’ creatures, like us!” Galli said excitedly. “I contacted one for homeless gorgons, and a few dragon-specific ones, but I haven’t heard back yet.”

“Have you lost your mind? Dragons never give anything away! Especially not their hoards!”

Galli held up the now-finished crocheted octopus. “But I’m not giving away my hoard. I’m using it to make stuff that I don’t need or want to keep for myself. I figure if I can’t use it or if I don’t want it, what’s the point of holding onto it? Can you think of any dragons that hold onto things in their hoards that they don’t want?”

“Yes,” Menisso said flatly. “Like, all of them. Remember Jurdai the Grumpy? He collected snow globes. Frickin’ snow globes. He hated snow globes, but he still collected them. And when some weirdo with a sword eventually came knocking, you think Jurdai let even one of those things go without a fight? I heard he was still holding onto a snow globe from San Francisco in his claws when he finally went down.”

Galli just shrugged and picked up more scrap yarn to begin another octopus. “Yeah, but Jurdai was old-school. I’m changing the narrative. Dragons can be good and generous, too.”

“So you’re going to tell the human charities that everything’s coming from a 60-foot-tall fire-breathing dragon with a serious wool addiction?” Menisso asked, skeptical. Galli’s hesitant answer was cut off as their next Binge’n’Stitch member arrived:

“Wait, Galli’s doing what now oh sweet Mother of Medusa…” Nordea, their gorgon friend gaped as soon as she walked in. While nowhere near as tall as her draconian friends, she was still a fearsome creature, a humanoid figure with hair made from writhing, venomous snakes. She also had golden wings, boar-like fangs, and gray scaly skin. Nordea wore dark sunglasses, even inside, for safety’s sake, but even hidden behind her shades, it was obvious the gorgon’s eyes were wide as dinner plates. “What in the hell…?”

“That’s what I said!” Menisso gestured. “She’s giving these to humans!”

“Humans? Ew, why?” the gorgon grimaced, setting her “Knit Happens” knitting bag down on the dragon-sized couch in front of the TV. 

Galli sighed, getting tired of defending herself. “Look, can we just wait until--”

“What in the hell?!” a female orc with a deep, gravelly voice gasped. She had her own knitting bag, bright pink, with a skull and crossed knitting needles on it and the words “I knit so I don’t kill people”, which in her case was literal.

Galli let out a long-suffering sigh. “...Until Sharog gets here. Okay, ladies, before we get started, I gotta tell you about my charity knitting--”

“Wait,” Sharog stopped her, then gushed, “Plushies for Pixies?! I love that charity! I’ve made so many amigurumi for them, like, I lost count. Aww, Galli! Are those NICU octopuses?! I love making those!”

“Wait,” Menisso stared at their orc friend. “You knit for human charities?”

The orc stared back at the red dragon, looking confused. “Do you not?”

"Why would you do anything for people who've been trying to genocide us for thousands of years?!" Nordea asked, her snakes hissing angrily. 

Sharog gave them all a flat look - which looked more like a glare - and stood arms akimbo. "Because it's the 21st century, and I'm not a petty bitch. So are we watching 'Bridgerton' or not?"

"Again?" Menisso groaned. "We've watched it at least five times!"

"Girl, hush," Nordea hissed. "I'm always down for some Duke of Hastings; for a human, that man is fine." She returned the red dragon's glare. "What? I'm a gorgon, not dead." Defeated, the red dragon settled in with the others as Galli grabbed the remote.

The following Monday, Galli felt much better. Not only did she get a day of knitting and binge-watching with “the girls,” but the green dragon felt by that night that she had knit enough for every charity she wanted to give to, and spent her Sunday boxing everything up. She clearly labeled each cardboard box with her signature, flourishing cursive, and signed each one as “Anonymous Donor.” Setting her Sharpie aside after labeling the last box gave her a sense of satisfaction she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

The next day, she spent her daylight hours delivering to the mythical creature charities. Galli wasn’t afraid to drop off to these places in broad daylight. Delivering her hand-knit donations to the human charities, on the other hand, she did in the middle of the night. The last thing she wanted was to cause a panic, which would definitely happen if a giant green dragon just showed up outside a children’s hospital. So instead, she sneakily left the boxes for each charity on their doorstep or outside the various ERs, and waited until a human found them and took them inside before moving to her next stop like a huge, scaly, bat-winged Santa Claus. 

Now it was Tuesday, and Galli looked around her lair and smiled, nodded in self-satisfaction. Charity work felt good. The other dragons were definitely missing out. Galli put her hands on her hips and surveyed her freshly-organized lair, casting her sharp gaze over her bins of yarn…then frowned in consternation when she realized what she’d done. 

Her carefully organized stash had been - to her horror - diminished. By human standards, she still had more yarn than she could knit up within her lifetime. But Galli was still a dragon. She realized that despite how good it felt to knit so much, and to give all her work to those in need…the charity work had exhausted her scrap stash, leading her to dig through the rest of her stash. Bins that had once been filled to bursting now had room for more yarn!

What was worse, it wasn’t just one or two bins: it was all of them! 

Panicked, she picked up her phone and called the only friend who would understand. “Menisso!” she cried, “Call Nordea and Sharog. I need an emergency Yarn Crawl, now!”

Menisso didn’t say anything for a moment, then sighed. “I think I already know the answer, but why?”

Galli uttered those horrible words that both dragons and fellow knitters alike feared most: “I need more yarn!”