I always wondered what you really were.

When you came to me the first time, I was vulnerable. I was wrapped in the sky-trap, I could barely move, and you were there. You had the sharp-bad-wrong-thing in your paws, and you were going to kill me.

And you didn't. You set me free.

I wondered why. Two-legs-no-wings had no code of honour, no mercy. But you let me go. It wasn't for sport, that much I knew. I could tell you knew all the implications of setting me free; that I could kill you in an instant. Besides, two-legs-no-wings did not play with their prey before they ate it. Only in the sick-wrong-death-den, where captured dragons are held. But you let me free. I just couldn't understand.

You kept coming back, when I was trapped. Why? You weren't going to kill me, so why? You brought prey once. It was long-dead, but still the closest thing to food I'd seen in too long. And when I snarled at you to drop the sharp-bad-wrong-thing! you did. So I took the prey and ate it. Then I felt bad for taking your prey. Now that I looked at you, you were tiny. Your tiny frame had no fat on it at all, and your fur flapped in the wind. So I gave you back prey, like a dam does for her hatchlings. You didn't seem too impressed, but you ate it.

You kept coming back. You smelt less of two-legs-no-wings now, more of dragon. I was so confused. I had by now figured out that you were a hatchling; but when I sniffed you I could faintly smell your sire, but never could I smell your dam. Where was your dam? Shouldn't she be feeding you? Making you big and strong?

You kept coming back. You had so many noises; you spoke no dragon tongue I knew, but you chirped and cooed and burbled, like a hatchling that could not yet talk. You were loud when you were angry; you spoke fast when excited; you were quiet when you were sad. You had so many emotions trapped, and I got the distinct impression that you let them wild around me. You were a hatchling that had been mistreated, not cared for, abandoned. Like me.

You kept coming back. You brought something with you; it stank of not-true-fire and sharp-bad-wrong-thing, but I ignored you. And then it drew tight to my tail and it felt right. So I took off. At first it was the same as my previous attempts; falling, but then you reached out and we soared. But when I threw you off I fell again, and I understood. I needed you.

You kept coming back. By now, I knew you were not a two-legs-no-wings. You had to be dragon. You weren't any type I had seen; furry, bipedal and with no tail. I thought you were hiding your wings, under your fur. Maybe you were a dragon hatchling captured by two-legs-no-wings? I felt only scorn for your sire and dam. They were terrible guardians. You couldn't fly, you couldn't breathe fire. When you fell from my back when we flew, you didn't open your wings. We both nearly died. Why couldn't you fly?

There was a two-legs-no-wings. I think it was a she. She held a sharp-bad-wrong-thing and she threatened you with it and threw you to the ground. But when I pounced you made your stop-cry and I didn't understand. You let her on my back and I was furious. She had tried to hurt you! So I shook her around, but by your reaction I realised. Was she… your mate? Did two-legs-no-wings mate at such a young age? Was the 'fight' I had interrupted some bizarre mating ritual? So I calmed, for you, and I tried to make it up to you. But we had flown father than I realised; I could hear the Queen singing. So I didn't think. I followed the song. You were scared; I don't think you were dragon enough to hear it. But you knew it was bad, so I helped you escape. And your mate licked your face, and I knew I did good.

You screamed for help. And I came. I fought, pulling so many muscles that the Dragon of the Sun couldn't count them. I ran, and I found you. What cruel, heartless creatures two-legs-no-wings were! They clearly considered you their own hatchling, but they had trapped you in the sick-wrong-death-den, with a furious Fire-Scale, and they were watching, like it was all fun and play. They had pitted dragon hatchling against dragon warrior, and I saved you. And I pinned one down the biggest one, with thick pelt and wild mane, and long savage horns, but you shrieked your despair-shriek and I stopped. And I realised. He smelt like smoke and musk and sharp-wrong-bad-thing.

He smelled like you.

And then he pinned me down, the tides changing, and you howled your grief-howl, but he didn't stop. Your own sire cared less for you than I did. I decided then, trapped and helpless. If I survived, I would be your new sire. I would teach you your fire, your wings, your free spirit. But I was trapped in cold-small-bindings, and I had no choice but to take them to the nest. I hoped foolishly that they would spare you if I helped them, or at the least the Queen would kill them all.

You came back. You leaped into fire and smoke and the burning floating-tree to save me, and when we were dumped in the cold earth-salty-wide-water, you didn't even stop to breathe. You nearly drowned, but your sire suddenly appeared. He pulled you from the water and I was afraid. He looked so much like a dragon snatching its unsuspecting prey from the water and I feared for you. You were helpless and he was going to kill you, and there was nothing I could do. So when he came back and broke the cold-small-bindings, I grabbed him like a fish and hurtled out of the water, only to see you bedraggled but alive on the bank. So I laid him out like a kipper and ran to you, and you hopped into the soft-not-fall-slab on my back. And your sire let us go kill the Queen, which we did.

But you were falling, so I went after you. You were so small and limp, plummeting into the fire, and I knew that you weren't dragon enough to survive the flames. I wrapped you in my wings, and the fire was so hot. It heated up my scales until I felt like screaming, but I wouldn't let you go. There was a stink of burning flesh in the air and I prayed that it wasn't yours.

And you came back, from the farthest you'd ever been, from the brink of the eternal realm itself. You were like me, incomplete, but you took it all in your stride, and when you fell I caught you. I save you, you save me. That's the way it goes.

o~0~O~0~o

Over the years, new things kept appearing in your little two-legs-no-wings nest. They were all for dragons, and by the tender look in your big green hatchling eyes, so like that of a dam regarding her hatchlings, I knew that you had made them, and you had made them for the dragons. No, not just the dragons. Yourself, too. I once heard that small hatchlings like you were a mistake from the Dragoness of the Moon; that you were meant to be big and strong. But I think her mistake was even worse. She put a dragon in a two-legs-no-wings skin.

There was trouble; two-legs-no-wings wanted your pelt almost as much as they wanted mine. They came after you with their sharp-bad-wrong-things, and we outsmarted them all together. We even tamed one. Sure, your nest had some strange two-legs-no-wings, but we tamed one from another nest, where they weren't so accepting. You always were so good at taming wild animals.

You came to me one day holding something, and then there was fire. Not mine. Not any other dragon's. It was yours. It was not from your jaws, like mine, but it was clearly coming from you. It wasn't the not-fire that two-legs-no-wings used either; it was true dragon fire. I was so proud. You had found your flame. And then you spun in a circle and fire-smoke swirled around you and lit up with a bang. You had two flames! I had never heard of a dragon with two flames. But then, you were no ordinary dragon.

And then came the day when you shed your fur for the last time. Your fluffy head-fur was still there, but you had grown a smooth pelt, almost like a shell or scales. You hopped on my back, all cute hatchling clumsiness, and we flew like we always did. You wanted to go higher, so I did. And then I felt the tail you made suddenly stiffen, and you shifted on my back. And then you weren't there anymore. I panicked, remembering what had almost happened the other times you fell. But then you snapped open your arms and flew, all by yourself. And I was overjoyed. You had your scales, your fire and your wings. You were a true dragon now, and I knew that you had never been a two-legs-no-wings. You were always, and always would be, dragon.