Hoard Crown

It didn't have enough teeth to be a faerie. However, its preoccupation with terrorizing his squirrel certainly seemed fae-like.

From a tree branch above, Marshall watched the small two-legger chase Pip around their home stump. He could choose to help his little buddy and scare the trespasser away with a roar or a blast of flame. Or he could sit back and watch the world's biggest annoyance being annoyed for once. And the branch was rather comfortable.

Marshall rustled his wings in the dappled sunlight, enjoying how large his shadow loomed on the mossy ground. Below his perch, the forest was unusually quiet. The other animals must be watching to see how Pip fared against this wobbly two-legger. Outsiders were rare in this part of the forest.

Evidently growing tired of the keep-away game, Pip rounded the stump one final time and then dropped into the entrance concealed by a biting fern.

Twin puffs of smoke escaped Marshall's nostrils as he chuckled at the two-legger's confusion. He congratulated himself, not for the first time, on this truly excellent location for a hoard. Dragons in his faction were known for guarding some of the most ostentatious caves in the empire. And they were continually having to defend those caves from thieves. Marshall wasn't the biggest dragon, but he was smart enough not to advertise his hoard with gaping entrances and glittering, precious stones.

The two-legger edged closer to the biting fern, and Marshall's amusement peaked. That little thing was about to be treated to the fanged bite of —

"Reeeeee!" The fern reared back and lunged at the two-legger. Its thorny jaws gnashed, and closed on nothing but air.

WHAP! Small, pudgy hand raised, the two-legger smacked the head of the fern and then shoved it aside as if it were no more than a bunch of buttercups.

Marshall and the fern both froze. That had certainly never happened before. Everyone knew that venomous ferns could render almost any creature into compost. This two-legger was either very brave, or it lacked all instincts for self-preservation.

And it was now butt-scooting into his hoard with infuriating ease.

Marshall clamored off his perch and dove towards the ground. He landed in a muddy skid and hurtled towards the near side of the stump where the two-legger had just disappeared.

The fern offered a half-hearted, "reeeee?" in his direction, but Marshall just lashed it aside with his tail. He tucked his wings and plunged through the hole.

Cornered at the far side of the den, Pip chattered and feinted at the intruder. The two-legger only laughed and reached out as if to catch him. Pip danced just out of its grasp. Distracted, the trespasser hadn't yet noticed Marshall's arrival.

This situation was salvageable, Marshall assured himself. The threat was small and probably edible. He just needed to get close enough to snap his jaws around its soft middle. It didn't look dangerous, but it had bested his fern without a hint of fear. The dragon proceeded with caution and edged around the perimeter of the den, talons making no noise on the earthy floor.

Now that he got a better look at it, Marshall was fairly sure the two-legger was immature, possibly a child of some elf-like species. If he had to guess based on his knowledge of their kind, he would also assume that it was female.

Marshall had a small hoard of items to show for his first decade of independence. Nothing of epic proportions, but pleasing all the same. He displayed his treasures in front of the hearth in an iron chest — a chest that the two-legger had just noticed. She promptly lost interest in Pip.

"Torch it! Torch it NOW!" Pip hissed to Marshall in a stage whisper.

Marshall nodded. The dim light and smoke from the low hearth fire helped conceal his approach. Marshall inhaled, trying to judge the amount of flame that would fully toast the trespasser without also endangering Pip.

The two-legger ambled to the iron chest, scooped up a jeweled crown and promptly placed it on her head.

The flames died in Marshall's throat. Of all the items to pick up —

"Shiny, shiny, shiiiinyyy!" The child chanted, twirling in a circle with arms raised over her head.

And indeed she was shiny. As the crown settled on her brow, her small body was lit from within. When the light faded, her skin took on a glittering, pale gold pallor.

Pip scurried over, nose twitching furiously. "I told you to TORCH IT!"

"It's no good now," Marshall settled back on his haunches and watched the child. She looked up, took note of the dragon, then continued her "shiny" chant, now adding a hip swivel to the routine.

"You're just going to let her take it?"

"There's nothing I can do to her while she wears that crown." Marshall hunched his long back defensively. If his brothers ever found out about this…

Pip took a running leap and landed on the child, clawing his way up her clothing. He climbed up to her shoulder, cursing under his breath. Delighted, the child tried to snatch his bushy tail. He twitched it out of her reach and tried to paw the crown off her head.

"It won't work," Marshall sighed. "She can't be harmed while wearing it, and it won't come off unless she takes it off. My uncle Snoo had to wait 200 years for the last wearer to die of old age before he could take it."

Marshall did not like to be reminded that most of the items in his cache had actually been willed to him by his mother's great uncle. Eventually, he planned to add more gold to his collection. He just didn't leave the forest very often, and his neighbors' idea of treasure was usually of the edible variety.

Pip gave up yanking on the crown and hopped onto Marshall's snout. "Well that isn't an elf, so it shouldn't live as long."

"You're sure she's not an elf?" Marshall felt slightly more hopeful.

They both watched as the child tripped over her own feet trying to follow Pip.

"Nah. Definitely not."

"So maybe she'll be easier to deal with?" Perhaps this could all be handled before anyone in Marshall's family heard about it.

"Well, I don't know, do I? That's a question for The Badger and The Rabbit."

Marshall blew out a smoky breath. The last thing he wanted was to deal with the most decrepit crones in the forest, but they hoarded knowledge the way his father hoarded rubies. "Alright then. But I'm not sure how we'll get her to The Hovel."

This task turned out to be far easier than Marshall anticipated. The little girl was so infatuated with Pip, that she followed wherever he went. He needed only to pause from time to time and allow her to nearly touch his tail before darting away again.

Marshall followed behind them, bringing up the rear of the odd parade. Several neighbors poked their heads out of holes and tree hollows to snicker at their progress. They may not know the extent of his problem, but seeing a dragon following a two-legger decked in stolen treasure was probably news enough. Not for the first time, Marshall was grateful that dragons in his faction rarely socialized outside of their own kind.

The trio reached The Hovel before the sun had moved very far in the sky. The Badger and The Rabbit laid belly-up in front of their dwelling, looking as if their aged bodies had finally decided to decompose. They hadn't of course. Marshall wasn't sure the earth would take them back.

"Hullo, you old bitties!" Pip called. Most neighbors wouldn't get away with such disrespect, but Pip was different.

Neither The Badger nor The Rabbit moved. But the child had spotted The Rabbit and raced for the fluffy old thing, scooping the animal up in her arms.

The Rabbit came to life with an angry shriek bit at the child with her overgrown teeth. The child dropped The Rabbit in surprise, but as she remained unharmed thanks to her golden skin, her good mood quickly recovered. She turned her attention to The Badger who was shaken awake just in time by Pip.

"What is this!" The Rabbit wheezed, clutching her chest. "What have you brought to our Hovel?"

"Actually we don't know," Marshall said, struggling to hold the child back with a taloned foot. "We were hoping you could help us with that."

"It is a plague," intoned The Badger in a quaking voice.

"No it's not," The Rabbit snapped. "It's just some two-legger brat."

"A plaaague," insisted The Badger.

"It's a thief is what it is," said Pip matter-of-factly. "This two-legger got into our hoard, picked up this crown, and made herself indestructible."

"Into your hoard?" The Rabbit asked Marshall, rheumy eyes glittering derisively.

"Yes, well, mock me later if you must," Marshall pushed down the scorched embarrassment in his throat. "Right now I just need to know what she is, and whether we can remove this elf crown."

The fickle child had now turned her attention to Marshall. She attempted to shimmy up his steep blue shoulder to his back, an act which should have sliced her palms wide open were it not for the crown's protection.

"Hmm," The Rabbit seemed to have recovered from her abrupt wake-up and was now peering interestedly at the child.

"I think it's not an elf or a faerie…" Pip offered. "It's too clumsy."

"It's a human," The Rabbit decided with a curt nod. "They're violent creatures that live on the far edge of the forest. They keep all of their food in one place and then kill anyone that takes a wee nibble."

She turned and headed inside The Hovel, followed closely by Pip and the curious child, then more slowly by The Badger. Marshall was forced to shove just his head and neck through the door after them while the rest of him laid in an undignified heap outside.

The inside of The Hovel was dusty and pungent with herbs and vegetables just past their prime. The Badger flopped down after the exertion of walking inside. The child began rummaging through a pile of beets. The Rabbit opened a large book so filthy it had at first blended into the dirt floor.

"It should be more vulnerable than other two-leggers…" she muttered, flipping through the pages.

"Kill a plague… with poison," advised The Badger, who was once again belly-up.

"Quite right," said The Rabbit, looking up from the book. "Humans know not what they eat and are quite easy to poison."

"That should work!" Pip said, turning to Marshall's head in excitement. "We can't torch her, but we can just feed her something that will pop her clogs!"

Perhaps the child understood some of what they were saying, because she looked up from her half-eaten radish, and her small face looked alarmed. She scooted closer to where Marshall's head rested in the entryway. For the first time, she looked wary of Pip.

"Um yes," said Marshall, shifting his weight in discomfort. "But maybe there's an herb that will make her compliant? Something to make her just do our bidding?"

"Did you know that humans wear the skins of their kills?" The Rabbit asked in savage delight.

"Surely not?" Marshall looked down at the human girl in alarm. He sniffed in her direction, but could pick up no animal scent on her clothing. "What purpose could that serve?"

The little girl's eyes were wide as she looked again at Marshall. He wondered for a moment if her blue eyes were usually flecked with gold or if it was just the effect of the elf crown.

"A plaaague," repeated The Badger

"They do it as a warning to us all," Rabbit climbed a rickety ladder to reach a hanging bundle of dried herbs. "Much better to kill it now. This will do it quickly. Then you'll have your crown, and I'll have that pretty head of hair for —"

"That seems hasty," interrupted Marshall. He tried to ease his head out of the entryway, but his horns caught on the doorframe. "Perhaps we could consider some other solutions."

The Rabbit ignored him. She clutched three dried flowers in her gnarled old paws and hopped off the ladder. Their long stems dragged on the dusty floor as she shuffled over to wear the child huddled next to Marshall's scaly cheek.

"I really don't think —"

The Rabbit was nearly on the child now. The little two-legger began to cry. It was the first real noise she had made since her "shiny" chant, and something twisted in Marshall's four stomachs.

With a wrenching noise and a cascade of dirt, Marshall ripped his head free of the doorframe and out into the fresh air. He dragged the child out with him, teeth clenched around her gold-plated leg.

Her cries reached a crescendo, but then promptly stopped as she realized that she was unharmed and now safely away from the old rabbit.

Pip scurried out of the den, dodging falling debris and leaped onto Marshall's back just as the dragon took to the air.

"What the hell was all that for?" Pip hollered into Marshall's ear as he gripped the dragon's horns to keep from sliding off. The little girl whooped in delight as the ground grew smaller below them. "I thought you wanted that crown back!"

Marshall didn't answer. He considered his meager hoard, now even more depleted. No one in his family would have made the choice he just made.

He alighted on top of a giant oak tree to reposition the girl and get a better look at where the forest ended. Maybe he could see the human village from up here.

Thankfully, Pip didn't question him further. He did however hop off to collect an especially large acorn.

Noticing it just a second after Pip did, the little girl held out her hand to the squirrel. "Mine?" she asked, hopefully.

"Nah, you little thief!" he answered. "This one's mine!"

Without a second of hesitation, the two-legger whipped the crown off her head and handed it to him in exchange for the acorn.

Marshall and Pip both stared at her in disbelief.

A simple trade was all she needed? Maybe she was a faerie after all.