It held.
I was safe.
I let out a heavy sigh, trying to force my heart to slow and my trembling hands to still.
If I thought I heard a rustling outside, I brushed it off as a wandering critter.
I didn’t even bother to wash my hooves as I usually did as soon as I entered my home—I had more important things to worry about than a few stray specks of mudon my floor.
“Alright, Brambleby. You’ll protect me from any monsters, right?” I asked as I set the box on my dining table, removed the lid, and set it aside.
Bright, alert eyes peered back at me. The dragon sat surrounded by shell fragments, simply watching me. He opened his jaw and spread it wide. Tiny, razor sharp teeth gleamed at me.
I braced myself, preparing for an immediate, painful death.
Thank the fates, death didn’t reach for me. Not yet.
The dragon simply yawned, letting out a tiny puff of air before his mouth fell shut again. He rose to his feet and clumsily crawled out of the box. His feet slipped against the wooden surface of the table, scrambling for purchase.
He gave up trying when his feet slipped out from under him, and he plopped onto his stomach.
He looked up at me with sad, discouraged eyes.
My heart cracked.
“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry, little sweets. I would’ve prepared the place if I knew you were coming. Can I—” I reached for him with tentative hands.
The dragon didn’t snap at me, so I considered that a good sign.
“I’m going to pick you up now,” I warned. “Please don’t bite my fingers off. I need those.”
Brambleby didn’t even snap at me once. I was proud of the little guy. He simply allowed me to slip my hands under his body, hoist him up, and tuck him under my arm. His legs hung limply.
He seemed almost…happyto be carried around like this.
Strange beast.
I kept my movements slow and calm. I wouldn’t push my luck.
“Now, where should I put you?”
As I wandered around my cottage looking for the comfiest, coziest place to set the dragon, a branch snapped somewhere outside.
My muscles snapped to attention.
My gaze shot to the window, where thin curtains were pulled aside, allowing a lovely view of the forest during the day.
But also, I suddenly realized, allowing a peek inside my cottage at night.
I rushed to tug every curtain shut. I checked the windows, too, making sure they were snugly closed and latched.
For the first time maybe ever, I wished that I didn’t live alone. I wished for the comfort and protection that another folk could provide.
I glanced at Bramble tucked under my arm. He didn’t seem concerned in the slightest, just dangling there, eyes blinking slowly.
I wasn’t sure if he had any fight in him. He seemed so docile. So sleepy.
The poor guy had just hatched, after all—I couldn’t really blame him for wanting to rest.
