Living with dragons

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. I mean, there weren’t always red and black dragons in the Valley. The original dragons were golden. The town villagers had begun to mine for precious metals, and extra chemicals leached into the water sources the dragons used to drink from, thus causing these creatures to shed their outer skins. Underneath their old, discarded skins, iridescent-colored skins would emerge, which shone in the sunlight in hues ranging from baby blue to petroleum blue; pearly whites, shimmering pink (especially the female baby dragons)… and metallic silver colors.

At dusk, when the dragons flew back to the caves they lived in, it was a spectacular sight to see.

Albeit, the bodies of the grandfather and grandmother dragons were covered in a wood-like film, which weighed them down, so usually they were too tired to fly, and spent their days near the entrance to the caves, taking baths in the hot thermal streams that were nearby, and foraging for medicinal flowers and plants to ease the pains in their aching wings and claws. Sometimes, they would rub themselves against the nearby rough-edged granite rocks, thus sloughing off pieces of that heavy, brownish shell, helping them to feel lighter for a brief stint, until the heavy hides would grow back.

I always admired and feared dragons. The villagers were scared of them, but I found something very attractive in their demeanor.

One fine day, I became friends with a pink baby dragon, in the most unusual way you can possibly imagine. I will tell you the story now:

I had completed my day’s work in the fields and was heading home, taking a long and winding road, with hillocks to my left and meadows - that at that time of the year were filled with pretty yellow, red and blue flowers - to my right, and I was looking up at the summer sky, when I heard a kitten crying. It was not exactly the sound made by a small cat: it was more hoarse, and I wasn’t able to pinpoint what animal would do that noise. I tried to follow the peculiar sound, and, happened upon the cutest little baby dragon, crying for help, among the tall grass and pink and purple poppies. I approached cautiously (because I knew from the tales my granddad had told me at night when I was tucked into bed) that even baby dragons are capable of throwing flames and scorch the land and anyone nearby, as they haven’t yet learned to harness the power of their fire-producing abilities. The baby dragon appeared to be healthy. I didn’t see any broken bones or wings, and she was not caught in any nets laid by the villagers to trap them. The creature was pink, so I knew it was a baby girl. I wondered where the mother was. Could she be nearby, watching me intently, hiding behind the bushes? I stayed still for a while, not moving or making any noise, and not wanting to bring any attention upon me. I knew what the consequences could be. If a mother dragon was on the prowl for “food” - which in the eyes of a dragon I could be classified as - that would be the end of me. Ten minutes passed, and nothing stirred, so I took small steps towards the lovely creature. There she was, the prettiest little thing with the cutest big eyes. She noticed me, and stopped crying and started to purr. She was purring! I never knew dragons could purr! I came close to her and touched her. She softly enveloped her tiny wings and claws around my hand and put her head inside my open palm. I can’t describe the overwhelming feeling of love I experienced at that moment for that tiny creature! I wanted to protect her and provide for her always and have her as my companion for evermore…

I wondered… could that be possible? Is it possible to have a baby dragon as one's pet or mascot? Will the mother continue to search for her? For how long? What do I feed her? How will I hide her from my family and the villagers? So many unanswered questions to ponder…