Short Stories

Untitled Story

She was certainly no dragon slayer. Thin, malnourished, with a ripped and broken cloak and frostbite in her fingers.

She fell into the cave, snow melting off of her from the dragon's heat. He turned, slowly.

She wasn't sure why she fought so hard. It was just a memory of a memory.

But then, she wasn't sure why she kept fighting after...

She looked up at him, standing once more on unsteady feet, wrapped thickly in bandages and the peeling leather remains of boots.

"I need it," she said, her voice hoarse and raspy. She licked her lips, cleared her throat.

"Why take a baby's blanket, with all the riches and treasure you took? I just want it back. Please."

Please was a word he heard only when they were begging for him not to eat them. He was amused now. A baby's blanket. "Why not?" he rumbled, as a huff of smoke left his nostrils, "It is of fine make. I enjoy how it looks." A single claw rose, pointing at the blanket spread and pinned to the wall. She started to scramble to it, but he pressed a single paw into the ground in front of her.

"Why do you want it so badly? No others of your kin came for your treasures, or at least I presume none of the knights who came were them." He chuckled. "And it is only a blanket. An unused one, when you can make more."

"It's all I have left," her voice broke off into a cough. "It's all I have left of him. Please, please. I beg of you. Just the blanket."

Something stirred in him. "You will die if you leave with it," he observed.

"I will die holding the closest thing to my baby," she said softly, fighting hard against tears. She blinked rapidly, but one escaped despite her efforts.

"And if I eat you?"

"Then I will die near his memory still."

The dragon blinked slowly, leaning his face near her. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, facing death with dignity.

He debated. He could send her out into the cold with it, or eat her. He had it already, but...

"Stay here," he said, "Die someplace warm and we both get we want."

She blinked at him. "Alright," she said. She hasn't expected even that from the dragon. She moved to the blanket, and despite her aching fingers pulled it down.

She settled near the entrance, snow on her back held at bay by magic, and curled around the blanket.

The dragon was unsure how long she would take to die, but he was patient.

And anyway, might as well reward such persistence.

"You know," he mused, "Most humans, and even most dragons, believe in an afterlife."

"He was a baby when God let him die," she said softly, "I am not sure what will happen, but I doubt we will be together."

The rest of the time passed in silence. The dragon went out for several meals. She slept.

Eventually, he realized she had stopped breathing. He took the blanket carefully in his teeth, pulling it away.

"I hope you're with him," he said before he ate her.

Somewhere, a mother smiled, holding her baby again for the first time.