One cold winter, an aging man has an unanticipated visitor in his mansion. She is quite strange and insistent in forming a deal.


Old man to young dragon

====
Sir Malcolm Price shuffled along the the red carpets with as much strength he could muster in this weather, a dripping candle in one hand and a glass full of tea in another; in passing, he saw snow and darkness fall in equal measure outside, a sign of the world outside had been engulfed in winter night. The frigid air rattled his bones and shook him to his core, making his arthritis feel all the more agitating.

He was a old man who was far past his prime, his skin and hair having long since turned pale and palid. His black suit contrasted especially with his appearance, giving him a sort of dignified professional air in matters of business, though that hardly mattered here in his own home. He didn’t have a beard, though the white growing stubble of hair on his chin could be if left to grow unmolested.

He moved through hallways decorated with everything stone statues and ornate paintings, giving none of them a second thought other than to make note of where he was in his private manor, though his memory had been slowly failing him these days.

His trek took him to his study, the place where he went to relax after a hard day’s work. It was a room full of bookshelves and favorite art pieces, usually paintings and a wall dedicated to accomplishments now consigned to history. Strangely, the fireplace was already lit, making the air here feel refreshingly warmer. Did he forget to quell the fire before he left his home to meet his obligations? It wouldn’t cost him much other than ordering another delivery of coal, but the real danger was in the event that the fire had been uncontained. Still, Sir Malcolm could hardly complain, as it saved him from having to worry about waiting for the fire to heat the air up.

Malcolm Price took a seat in his favorite chair, the left leather sofa from a twinned set. He set aside his belongings on the table between himself and the other sofa and withdrew a book from the small table that he had probably forgotten to return last night. “Hm, On Strange Creatures and Where to Find Them. Can’t decide if it’s fictional or not.”

“It isn’t either,” replied a soothing voice, a woman’s perhaps, though off somehow. Maybe it was too… loud?

Malcolm Price felt a sudden jolt of conflicting emotions well up inside of him, wondering if he was not alone or if his mind was playing tricks on him yet again. Either possibility was not good. “Whose there!?” he shouted, rising to his seat.

No one responded. Did the intruder leave? Or was there never an intruder in the first place.

The old man stumbled back into his sofa, letting out a frustrated sigh. Of course, he would think an intruder would accept his commands, assuming there was one in the first place. He must have been losing it, one way or the other. “Show yourself!”

No reply.

Malcolm scratched his forehead in growing frustration. “I know someone is out there!” he shouted, but this plan isn’t working. He decided to change tactics; he raised his copy of On Strange Creatures and Where to Find Them over his head and shouted. “How is this book not fictional?””

“Well, it’s not exactly presenting information with the intent to entertain or distract from reality, so it cannot be fiction. That doesn’t mean it’s being honest or truthful however, as much of the information contained within is wholly inaccurate or made up of fabrications,” boomed the voice. “So in essence, the book is non-fictional, but wholly untrue….”

It was in this moment, that Sir Malcolm managed to track down the source of the voice; his ears might have been failing him now, but he still could tell the direction of things. His gaze turned towards the seat opposite him. “Who are you?” he asked once more pointing to the seat. “Show yourself. You’re there, aren’t you?”

The speaker ceased speaking and for a moment Malcolm Price thought he was going crazy and hearing voices that weren’t there. Instead, he was starting to wonder if he was starting to see things as well. A woman appeared in the seat, a young elegant creature in a red dress that might have been made for warmer nights than this. Fine combs and sticks protruded through her long red hair, almost reminiscent of horns if one thought of it. “... Oh, perhaps I shouldn’t have been so eager to correct you… but well, I did want to meet you anyways.”

“Who are you?” Malcolm said again. “I’m not going to stop asking until you answer. Who are you and why did you want to see me?”

“Uh...business,” said the woman, she seemed to have trouble phrasing things correctly, like she needed think about her word choice. “You may call me… Karen.”

Malcolm narrowed his eyes, distrusting the woman for coming at such an unusual time. “You should have registered for an appointment; I have secretaries for that! Now leave me!” he shouted, waving his arm in a flurry.

The woman seemed to shiver for a moment, as if startled. “Uh… how about… philosophy then?”

Malcolm sneered, “Philosophy?” He had no time for this woman, yet he knew there was hardly he could do anything about her, not in his condition. He gritted what is left of his teeth, his jaws aching like loose gravel. “Bah, fine! As long as you answer me in turn!”

“As you wish.” Karen sighed and though agitated but thought nothing of it after a moment. “Well, you have such a nice looking home. It is no secret that you are quite wealthy and I have a rough idea of how you obtained it as you own shares in some particular industries… I was wondering if all this money had a purpose.”

“Purpose?” Malcolm narrowed his eyes, inspecting the woman for clues to her identity.

“Purpose. Everything has a purpose, even the acquisition of wealth serves some goal, usually because that money is a resource for some end, some greater purpose,“ said Karen. She raised a hand and then seemed to pluck an invisible flower as if to count imaginary pedals that were only there in her mind. “Money isn’t everything, they say.”

“And I say they are wrong,” Malcolm replied in a stern voice, his fists clenched, as if he harshly disagreed with the statement, as if it hit a bitter note. “Money is everything up until the point you have more than you can spend; before then, it drives everything, every act, every motion, every thought.”

Karen raised her eyes from her invisible flower and turned toward Malcolm. “Experience speaking?”

Malcolm smashed his fist into the side of his sofa, the impact rattling and spilling tea all over the counter. He closed his eyes and for a moment stilled himself before speaking again, “I… grew up poor. It is a struggle to live a day without hunger and money was the center of everything.”

Karen gave an understanding nod, as if accepting. “I see. So, you then collect money to no longer be poor, is that right? Is this mansion a manifestation of that desire?”

Malcolm frowned, running his words through his head. He then shook it, declaring, “No, I don’t believe so… It is just something I do. Money for money’s sake.”

Karen placed her invisible flower near the table, as if still maintaining the illusion that it was still there. “So there’s no real purpose to acquiring this wealth. Do you like collecting it?

Malcolm narrowed his eyes further, whilst considering his response. He hadn’t really given this much thought, or if he had, he had long forgotten the answers. “I don’t feel like answering that… so what about you? Do you crave money? Wealth?”

“Only as a means to secure a marriage I am looking forward to,” Karen replied, her gaze one of incredulity, as if she could hardly believe someone like Malcolm could even exist. “I have this… treasury where I keep all of my gold!”

“Typical,” said Malcolm.

Karen narrowed her eyes. “What?”

Malcolm sighed and took a sip of his tea. “A woman such as yourself is preyed upon by old men, typically to be reserved for a trophy status… or to take her wealth to use it for the husband’s ends. If wealth is what you need to secure a marriage, then it is perhaps not you that he seeks.“

Karen let out a laugh in response, as if the idea was itself comical, causing Malcolm to spill his tea in surprise. “Sorry,” she said. “It is just, well… I uh…have this one I have been waiting for my whole life and he’s a really nice guy!”

“Hmph, if you say so,” said Malcom as he sipped his tea and found nothing. He placed his cup back onto its saucer, empty. “Also, why have a single treasury? If you really have that much gold, you should invest it places so that it can accrue, put it to work. I am sure there’s someone in the steam yard or the mills who could use an investment of… capital.”

Karen looked somewhat confused by that. “I uh… never crossed my mind.”

“Did you what, inherit most of that money?” Malcolm asked.

“No!” Karen seemed quite insistent in denying. “I mean, I’m not expecting my parents to die for quite a while, so I’m not in line for inheriting just yet.”

“Then where did you get that money?” Malcolm asked.

Karen seemed nervous to speak, as if this question was something to be avoided; perhaps it hinted towards her true purpose here. “It isn’t something worth discussing just yet… I’ll tell you when. Besides, it’s my turn to ask now, since you’ve had so many questions.”

“Fine,” Malcolm obliged at he leaned back in his chair, thinking of what to ask next. “Speak.”

“Well, your family…. Tell me about them. You have a spouse? Children? You clearly had parents who were poor.”

Malcolm just brought his head to his temples, this woman was asking these pointless character questions. “Why does this matter?”

“I need to know for later,” said Karen as she took her flower again. “Your family, please.”

Malcolm shrugged, this was pointless, but he needed a time killer. “Just me now, no more, no less. Didn’t bother looking for anyone, so, well, was too late for me.”

“You parents?”

“No clue,” said Malcolm. “I ran away from home when I was young and when I went back when I had grown up, they weren’t there. Last I checked, the records say they died in the blizzard not long after I left.”

Karen seemed to nod in response, agitating as it was starting to become. “... Not unusual in their circumstances. Why’d you leave?”

Malcolm focused hard on Karen, wanting to get to his question, but ultimately feeling a strange urge to speak. It was strange focusing on distant memories that had long since been laid to rest, like the old wounds had been slowly reopened. “I… Mother and father were fighting, he was a fisherman and we were having problems just feeding ourselves…but then mother said that there might be another mouth soon, she was pregnant then. I left... I think I thought that things would be better if there was less of us to feed.”

Karen seemed to sniffle a tear, in response, as if conveying a muted emotion. “... Gee, that’s… that’s something. That is… unfair. ”

Malcolm felt something in his heart break into thousands of splinters; this was too painful, he had to move on. “I’ve been through a number of jobs since, but eventually struck it rich because I saved the life of this one dignitary tied very close to the Crown this one time. Earned a small reward monetary reward and a minor honorary title title, which was what I needed to....” Tears welled up in his eyes as he tried to smother the feelings. His own voice left him for a moment there. Why did he start? What was his purpose in doing all that? Was he avoiding something?

Karen moved over to him and wiped the tears from his eyes.

Malcolm suddenly realized that a strange was looking at him with those eyes and pulled himself in. “I’m… fine,” he said, his eyes turning towards the book by his side and to the imaginary thing in Karen’s hands. “What’s correct about this book? What’s with that flower?”

Karen coughed and then returned to her seat. “I see you have plenty of questions, but to start well… many creatures in that book are realer than you’d think. Many of them are little more than beasts, but some are more intelligent than the book gives credit to.”

Malcolm opened his book and saw images of strange sea monsters, hybrids between eagles and lions, oversized turtles and many things else. He blinked and found the image of this representation of a four legged lizard, a beast that flew and scorched the skies and had poor intelligence compared to many other creatures. He had this odd sense of familiarity that it reminded him of… “Karen isn’t your name isn’t it?” he said, raising his head in… an odd sort of dull surprise, as if the only thing worth focusing upon was that his he didn’t recall buying a sofa that size.

The strange, though attractive woman was no more, replaced by a large beast atleast twice the size of a horse. Its bright, bright red scales reflected the orange firelight, complimenting her lean and tested build in an odd way. The snout bore sharpened fangs, but they seemed well maintained, cleaned even, and for horns its head had the small curved horns of a ram’s head. Yet despite that, she still sat in the sofa, now having grown large enough to accommodate her size… as if it was always meant to be that way. Great wings were folded onto the back, with a span that must have been able to reach the fireplace from here. And even though she was far larger than Malcolm and at least a hundred times more physically adept, it was utterly impossible to be intimidated when the large dragon had a look on its face that practically howled apologetically. “... Well, sorta, if you translate it a few times… It’s Kerwyn, actually. Sounds almost the same don’t it?”

“Kerwyn…” Malcolm muttered; an odd style, but sure. He looked at his empty tea cup and quietly turned the cup upside down. “Perhaps the salesmen were right that Farfield and Garrets were never quite the same since they changed their recipe....” Because clearly, he had to have been intoxicated and suffering from oxygen deprivation if he was hallucinating a timid dragoness in his study; as a matter of fact, he might have been completely alone and there was never a woman in the first place. “Uh… I beg your pardon...madam, but uh, is this… real?”

Kerwyn’s maw seemed to approximate what could have been a smile and she stepped forward and deposited a white flower, some sort of daisy in onto Malcolm’s lap. “As real as could be. There are number of creatures in the world, but perhaps you can learn of that on your own time later; simply know that I am one. As to the flower, well, I recommend you hold onto it. It is a … health aid; it should make you feel better, ease up the tension in your bones and all.”

Malcolm reached and took the flower by its stem. It was seemingly an ordinary daisy, with white petals and a healthy sheen. Correction, it seemed that some of the pedals had been wilted. Had there always been a flower in the dragoness’s grasp, but he hadn’t seen it? Was he blind or was his mind playing tricks on him? “I don’t see what makes this thing so special, though I guess holding onto it makes me feel better.”

“You must have so many questions,” said Kerwyn. “But so do I. After your family died, why didn’t you start another one? Surely there had to have been lovers or potential brides.”

“Plenty, especially once I started accruing wealth.” Malcolm said as he looked deep into the flower; the thing looked like it was drying up, its pedals slowly draining of water. “Course, all of them were gold diggers. Hardly worth my time really.”

Kerwyn nodded in understanding. “Ah, so you wanted to defend your hoard from those who only care about it; that I am familiar with.”

Malcolm narrowed his eyes, finally understanding a small portion of what this whole meeting was about. This was certainly a business deal of some sort. “How much you got? ”

“Not as much as you,” said Kerwyn with a shrug. “Although that’s largely been the fact that I’ve never really… invested it like you did; I just did the traditional bury it under the mountain and sleep on it routine.”

“That must hurt,” Malcolm said. Fictional and imaginary reptiles had very odd habits. He had to wonder what kind of inspiration he had to imagine something like this. Was it old legends or maybe those magazines that just got published recently.

Kerwyn shrugged again, seemingly not understanding. “It’s… habit.” She then smiled and winked at Malcolm. “I’d say, you’d probably make for a very good dragon considering you have most of what you’re supposed to do down right…”

“Uh… thank you.” Maybe Malcolm was using his own life as a basis. Was his own mind that deluded?

“You feeling well?” Kaelyn asked. “You should ask your next question as it’s your turn…. Well, we technically add more questions for clarification, but that’s fine.”

Malcolm paused to think on his question for a moment, bringing his hand absentmindedly towards his wrists to scratch away an annoying itch. He was feeling quite relaxed, more at ease than he had been in quite a long a while, his breathing easier, his joints no longer aching. He felt flower petals falling away from the daisy in his hands and noted how odd it was the flower was rapidly sickening as he started to feel better. Then, on a hunch, he realized the skin on his hands was more taught, more healthy. “What… is this?” he said as he inspected his hands.

“I mean what I said, the flower is a health aid… as the flower sickens and withers, the opposite happens to you,” Kerwyn explained. “They are quite helpful, though not permanent in most circumstances. Would you like another, that one doesn’t have much life left in it.”

Malcolm laughed, perhaps the euphoria of his own imagine was getting to him. Or if it was real, well, nothing was wrong with being a little healthier was there? “Fine, fine. I’ll gladly take as many as you can provide.”

Kerwyn’s draconic smile grew as she passed a small sproutling onto Malcolm’s lap. How a large quadruped was able to hold onto something so small, Malcolm didn’t know, but he supposed that their hands might have been very flexible and precise. “It is best if you hold onto this until it withers away.” She took away the previous flower and set it on the fire, where it burned away.

Malcolm, simply accepted that this was the way things worked in this imaginary land. There was no point in letting himself suffer in his own dreams when pleasant things would be better suited. He grabbed onto the sprout, causing it to rapidly grow as time seemed to progress for the flower; the reverse happened to Malcolm.. As he imagined what the small sprout was doing to him, it happened; his vision cleared, his back no longer bothered him, his arms were no longer frail, and so on, causing him to change from an old man to a man in his prime. “With pleasure,” he said, his voice firm, resolute, like someone who had power and knew it.

Kerwyn, seeing Malcom’s request was satisfied, added her own. “Would you say that love is more important than money?”

“Hm?” Malcolm asked. “What… what do you mean?”

“Well, obviously we both know money isn’t quite everything, but it is important. The question is… if you had to choose, which would you rather have; wealth or love?” Kerwyn asked.

Malcolm squinted an eye. “I… I don’t see what you mean.”

“I mean, you clearly have some sort of preference, an inclination. You accrued plenty of wealth, but you aren’t a miser with it who values every penny since you seem to spend it when there is good cause; you also do not believe in buying affection through wealth and dislike money being the foundation of any relationship; these things all more or less explain why you are alone,” Kerwyn summarized. The dragoness moved over closer to the young man, towering over him, though not in a threatening manner. “I… believe that you crave honest affection, that if given the choice, you’d rather be poor than to be unloved, but as you have been for the past 50 years, a situation to open up simply never presented itself.”

Malcolm sat there stunned for a moment, the dragoness’s analysis biting into him more sharply than her teeth ever could. It… certainly explained a lot. He was rich and to many people… that’s the only thing that mattered; unfortunately, he wasn’t that way. At the same time though, he knew something was up. “So… are you saying that I should make myself poor to be happy?”

“Not in poverty… and not without getting something back in return,” Kaelyn explained. She moved over to the young man and tugged at his black suit, letting him know that he no longer fit it correctly. “Money doesn’t translate into happiness, but the lack of it does negatively affect things.”

Malcolm shivered and then felt his body, his clothes had started to grow… or rather he had started to shrink. He had enjoyed a brief moment of being at his prime, a young man ready to face the world; now that the small sprout had bloomed and started to wilt, he was younger than a young man, an adolescent male. His limbs became awkward, and shiny, almost too long for his body, his face broke out in a rash only to smoothen out moments later. Bones ached as they felt the tension of what had to be the reverse of growth spurt threatened to happen. “What… what have you done to me?”

Kerwyn sighed. “Some negotiation aid, it’ll all make sense later on… and please, don’t get up.”

Malcolm felt like trying to run, but as Kerwyn was right in front of him, he could only gulp in suppressed terror. “O...kay…” Was this the part where his own imagination started turning things into nightmares.

Kerwyn sighed. “Maybe I should have been more obvious… more direct, but fine.” She straightened herself and spoke. “Young Malcolm Price, I desire a significant portion of your estate and the wealth in your treasury. In exchange I will grant you something that you have desperately wanted, along with several provisions that you might see as assets.”

Malcolm’s fear wavered, replaced by a sort of annoyance. “I am not a child!” He hated being called “young”, even if it was becoming truer by the moment. His awkwardly skinny face started to soften, his features smoothening out; even the peach fuzz that had once been a late-midday shadow on his chin rapidly withdrew. He had been an early bloomer in youth, but that undid itself in a rapid moment, leaving the once old man to feel his feet leave the ground.

Kerwyn seemed to be amused by that and gently helped raise the young man’s feet off the ground, to prove a point. “Funny, your legs barely reach the floor and more.” She smiled and then let out a sigh. “Listen, I don’t think it’s even fair to call you a man, I mean, you’re clearly not even old enough for puberty yet!”

Malcolm gritted his teeth, oddly aware that several of them were missing in key locations. He withdrew himself from the dragoness, trying to salvage what was left of his pride. He reeled back and slapped the dragoness with one his oversized sleeves, using it like a shield or a whip, either worked. “Quit it! What’s the point of this!?” he said, his voice no longer sounding mature or deep, but he tried to manage to sound like he still had authority in this growing nightmare.

The dragoness seemed to consider her words for a moment and then replied, eying the boy’s face “Are those cuts? And is that a bruise?”

Malcolm growled at the change of subject, but responded once he realized he was starting to feel injuries well up on his face. “Gang,” he said. “They beat me up since I was alone and all since I had extra coins for a job I did.” He sniffled and wiped away some blood that dripped from his face with one of his suit sleeves. He could remember quite vividly the event, even if it had been so long. He contorted his face in discomfort at the awful memory involving dirt, sea water, and some bullies he had known..

“It doesn’t have to be that way; you don’t have to walk down the same path as you did before,” said Kaelyn as she gently patted Malcolm’s head.

Malcolm felt a little bit dizzy but healthier. The swelling on his face had went down, the cuts disappeared, as if they never happened, not yet anyways. Malcolm felt a little shiver go through his head and then suddenly the memories he had that were once intimately in the forefront of his mind went out of focus, as if separated by a vast amount of time that would never be. “Wow…” he whispered.

Kerwyn smiled. “It doesn’t have to be the only the only thing that can be different.”

Malcolm stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“What if… you could see your family again. Albeit, maybe a bit different from how you remember them, but still in essence as they were.”

Malcolm only cared about the first clause. His eyes started to water as if a sudden well of emotions that had been long buried slowly started to resurface. Leaving his family hadn’t been easy on him and now the question stung him as though the event just happened only yesterday. “... I … I…” he stuttered, at a loss for words. “But they’re … gone…”

Kerwyn rubbed the boy’s temple. “They don’t have to be. Did you miss them?” she said. “Do you want them?”

Young Malcolm’s eyes burst forth with tears, a whole lifetime’s worth of sorrows let out in an instant. The boy did his best to conceal his crying, using his overgrown sleeves to hide his face. “I want my Mama and Papa!” His body rapidly contracted ever further as more years fell away from the boy, leaving him at only 5 winters, the age he had been that fateful day when he ran. His features lost and hard edges entirely, softening into a cherub’s face, but marred with tears. He dropped the flower in his hands, now a blackened and molted twig of a thing; when it fell, it vaporized into dust.

Kerwyn moved forward and slowly wiped the tears from from his eyes, helping him expose himself. “Let it out let it out. Go on, it’s alright.”

Malcolm no longer had the self control and stoic fortitude that came with age and he wept and cried as a child his new age should. “I wanna be home! It was too hard! I don’t want to be alone!” and other raw statements like that flowed out of him like a tidal wave.

Kerwyn let out a sigh, and stared out of the fireplace, as if regretting something. Perhaps the fact she had made a grown man now weep like and as a child unsettled her or maybe it was that she was emotionally manipulating someone in distress instead of making a fair deal. Maybe it was fine by her to fool an old man into parting with his wealth, but doing the same to what was essentially an emotionally overwhelmed child was a step too far. She then did her best to steel herself, to see the task could be fulfilled. “It’s alright little dragon, I can take you back home!”

Malcolm sniffled, distracted from his crying. He didn’t even notice that he was called a young dragon. “... You can?”

“Sure!” Kerwyn said. She then lifted herself away from young boy and shown him the rest of the room. “... I wish I could give things out for free here… You are a nice kid and honestly, not a half bad grown man, but I need something for my purposes.”

Malcolm wiped the tears from his eyes and saw his study room. It was a collection of all of those trinkets and knick knacks he had amassed from simply being alive; his mansion was full of such rooms, all of it paid for by the careful management of investment and smart lending… And he knew for a fact that when it came down it, all of these things were a distraction from what he really wanted, what he should have wanted. “Take it all… I want my Mama and Papa! Take me home!”

The mansion shook and suddenly came undone, one plank a time, letting the snow from outside come right in. Statues, furniture, and books rose into the heavens and faded into the white. It was a strange sight, like something was taking everything, one item at a time.

Kerwyn exhaled a sigh, part relief, part guilt. “I… I really hope you’ll be happy with them…”

Malcolm sniffled and wiped away his last tear. “I will!” he declared, his mind set. Then, he paused and looked up at the blankets of falling snow that piled around him as the house rapidly fell apart. “But… wait, what about the blizzard?”

The dragoness smiled. “People worry about blizzards, but dragons don’t. You’ll understand!”

“But I am not a dragon…” he tried to say, but then the gust of strange air came and took his suit away from him, leaving the boy exposed to the elements and oddly not cold.

“Are you sure?” Kerwyn said.

Malcolm saw his body turn white, like his skin suddenly started to blend in with the with the snow around him. A small stubby tail poked out from between his legs, small juvenile spikes pointing right at it. Dimminuitive wings adorned his tiny tube of a body, whilst underdeveloped horns sprouted from his head. His mouth elongated just a tad, but for a youngling of his age, the tiny thing didn’t have to go far. His eyes changed from a human shade into something much more reptilian, more suiting.

“Imma dwagon!” he declared, letting out a laugh in the process. This had to have all been some dream, he realized; one very lucid dream that he didn’t know if he wanted to escape or to stay in it forever. He didn’t understand what the point of this was, but dreams didn’t need to be logical, or consistent!

Kerwyn laughed at the little whelp. “I’d say that you were always a dragon; you just didn’t know it yet! You look very cute!”

Malcolm smiled and jumped in his now oversized sofa and spread his tiny wings in a cheer. “Ya tink?” he slurred. Then, annoyed at his speech impediment, he looked at his snout and lucked his clops with his elongated tongue. “Dis is funky.”

Kerwyn simply laughed. “You’ll grow out of it, don’t you worry.”

Grow out of something. That was something Malcolm never dreamed that could happened to him again. But, then again, the gigantic dragoness over him was so big! He could be like that when he grew up! He wagged his tail again, pleased at the thought. “Okay!” he said. Then thinking on it, he realized something, something he needed to do. “... Can I see Mama and Papa now?” he said.

Kerwyn smiled and then shed a tear. “You may.”

The wind blew and snow blasted Malcolm’s face. The little whelp braced himself against his the oncoming gust, but he was too weak and he found himself blasted out into the mists. His vision faded into walls of dense white, carried by the wind to hopefully his destination. He screamed and howled in a weird mix of terror and joy. “Waaa!” said the little dragon.

“I’ll see you again, Mezar!” he heard Kerwyn’s voice in the distance. And then she was gone.

Malcolm’s eyes blinked open and he found himself inside a pile of snow. The whelp dug himself out and shook himself free. He yawned and sighed and then vigorously wiped away any traces of snow that still clung to his body. He felt dizzy, last night’s dream was so vivid, so real, and so disorienting to think about.

He saw that the sky was bright and snow had slowly stopped falling, the night having since passed. He was against some wooden house in some vaguely remembered back alley he hadn’t recalled, somewhere very distant, yet recognizable.

Malcolm stepped out of his hideaway and into a busy street full of humans and their animals and their carts, all of them gigantic, all of them might trample him beneath their feet if he wasn’t careful. A few took note of him, eying his scaly hide, but doing nothing.

Malcolm darted away from attention and scurried back into the alleyway to catch his bearings. There was a small satchel by his side, a single gold coin that jolted in his mind what he needed to do. The docks! He had to go to the docks and then things would be better!

The little dragon dropped his coin and it fell into the snow as he suddenly had an odd feeling go through his stomach, second thoughts. If he ran, he could be rich, but… did he really want to run away? Would it be worth it?

He shivered, the cold biting into him as much as it could. Malcolm shook his head… no. What was he thinking? That a little whelp like him was going to make it big across the open waves? That he would be rich and have a mansion all to himself! That was stuff that only happened in dreams. … Besides, he was starting to miss his parents.

“Mezar!” he heard some voices calling out a name, loudest above all others. “Mezar, come home!”

At first, the little dragon didn’t know who they were calling, but then, the whelp realized that they were seeking him. His tail shook and he leapt into action, seeking the sounds of the voice! “Mama! Papa!” he roared, coming out of the alleyway and running through the legs of all of these people in the way.

“Hey!” one snapped.

Two adult dragon turned to the whelp, their scales a glistening metallic silver, the kind that looked more like a metal than any pigment skin normally made. They saw the welp and were overjoyed instantly.“Mezar!” said Papa as he bent down and scooped up the boy and help him close.

“Papa!” cried Mezar as tears began to well up in his eyes; he realized with absole certainty that he was now able to go home. He tried to reach forward to hold his massive father, but could only manage to rub his face against his leg.

“My baby!” cried Mama. She bent down and licked her child, just thankful he was unharmed and able to come back.

Mezar’s heart melted into a puddle, relief of the kind that one needs to spend an entire lifetime to truly know overwhelmed him and made him shed tears of purest joy. This was a moment he didn’t know he would ever get and he took it in.

“We were so afraid!” cried Mama. “But now you’re finally safe!”

Mezar felt himself frown, tears still overflowing his body. “... I heawd you fighta,” said the little dragon.

The two parents turned to each other, looks of horror on their eyes. “Honey, it’s… normal for parents to be like that sometimes,” said Papa. “But that doesn’t mean we stopped loving you. You’re always going to be our son.”

Mezar sniffled and blew his nose; he felt like he should have known this a long, long time ago, but it was worth the wait listening to his father speak. He just buried himself in his Papa’s side.
“
Mama stepped forward and also grabbed hold of her son and patted him on the back. “And as for what we’ve been fighting over, well…” He pulled something out from her purse; it was a glistening egg, almost like an overgrown pearl. “You’re going to be a big brother… once it finally hatches.”

Mezar felt his insides warm and he nodded his head, understanding.
Mama put away the egg and placed her son on top of her back, letting the tiny whelp some time to rest, riding atop as a young dragon should. “Come on, we should go before the villagers complain about us blocking the roads again. It might not have been the most ideal to live here, but we can manage.”

Mezar let out a yawn, and his stomach audibly grumbled. He was tired and hungry, probably because he made the silly decision to run away last night; he had to have breakfast… though, he did recall his family didn’t exactly have enough food all the time. As dragons, you see, they needed to eat more than humans did. “... What’s ta eat?” he asked sheepishly.

Papa had this big grin on his face, he said as he lead his family out of the crowded streets and into a path that was less taxed and on the way home. “Oh, well, I think I can get you something nice today… and probably for the next few months if I plan my budget right; I have this friend that came by yesterday. He said he was moving in, something about investing into business… to expand his horde. I don’t know that stuff, but he owed me alot of gold way back!”

Mama’s walk was an oddly comforting motion against Mezar’s body, a steady rhythm like a heartbeat. “And they have this daughter of theirs too. A .. Kerwyn wasn’t it? She’s this red dragon that’s your age! You finally have a playmate!”

Mezar’s tail wagged. It wasn’t easy being a family of dragons who lived among humans. He didn’t meet many like him, but this news was exciting. The name though… bothered him, it reminded him of something from his dreams…. He had this vague feeling he met this Kerwyn before, her name sounded familiar. He laughed, as he suddenly realized something. Was she going to wait for him? He turned to his mother and asked an innocent question, “... Why do dwagons get lotsa gold?”

Mama laughed and then let out a sigh. “I’ll tell you when you’re older!”