A Courting Born From Care

20260824

Written for “Smogust’s Story Hoard”, prompt 16.

It started with tragedy. The storm was worse than any in living memory, even for dragons. Ripping through the forest and leaving destruction in its wake.
So it was, the morning after, that a young drake was flying where he’d never been before, driven outside his usual territory in search of food. His attention being focused on the ground he easily caught the plaintive chirps, and instinctually recognised them.
Babies in distress.
He banked sharply, looping back, drifting lower so he was barely skimming the trees, ears straining.
There.
While once the den’s entrance had been securely hidden, the old tree whose roots formed its roof had been torn up by the storm, laying the frightened baby dragons bare to the sky. They were huddled together against…
Ah.
He gazed at the pair of much older dragons. Large. Strong. In their prime.
Now crushed. Alongside one of their babies. Six misty eyes staring unseeing at the tangle of snapped roots overhead. They must have been sheltering from the storm… and the storm struck them regardless.
The babies had fallen silent, gazing with wide anxious eyes at the stranger intruding on what remained of their home. Their entire world, until last night.
He approached slowly, head low, and gave encouraging, gentle chitters.
What to do?
Well, the poor things couldn’t stay here. And his den was a flooded mess - though in far better shape than this. Still. It was too far to carry them.
Instead he started pacing around the area. Probing the wet soil and investigating every promising cranny.
Seeking a place to dig.
It took a few false starts, but soon he’d hollowed out a reasonable cave under one of the remaining trees. And the babies didn’t resist as he carried them across and tucked them into proper shelter.
Now. Where to find dry bedding? Everything was soaked…
A flash of movement made him look up, instinctively mantling his wings over the den entrance, as another dragon landed by the ruined den. She peered in, tail thrashing, then threw her head back and wailed.
He stood silent. Not sure what to do.
She snuffled at the nest, her head following the direction he’d carried the surviving babies… and she spotted him.
Her eyes narrowed, lips peeling back to show fangs. He returned the gesture.
His tail twitched - and a small paw grasped the tip, one of the babies chirping plaintively. Seeking reassurance, or perhaps food.
Her eyes snapped wide open again, ears flicking forward. She let out a crooning whistle and the babies responded, albeit uncertainly.
He sniffed at the air. She did share some of the family’s scent. A younger sibling of one of the fallen parents?
So when she approached he simply watched closely, not objecting as she shoved her head into the crude den and sniffed and nuzzled the babies. Then she nuzzled him and bobbed her head and chirped and took flight to the north.
Still unsure what to do, he clambered into the den and snuggled up to the trembling trio. Trying to keep them warm.
Her return was heralded by the scent of fresh deer blood, and he was almost as excited as the stridently chirping little dragons. But didn’t swallow a single scrap himself until all three of them were satisfied.
While he’d been feeding them she’d brought the other half of the deer, and together they made short work of the meat. Then he dragged the remains safely away from the den while she stood watch, and finally they dug out enough space for them both to bed down.
It was strange, being this close, in such a vulnerable position, with a total stranger. Snout-to-snout and tails almost tangled. But…
She nuzzled the sleeping babies, securely snuggled between the two adults, then licked his cheek, making him feel pleasantly warm despite the cold, damp ground cradling them. He tentatively returned the lick.
Normally dragon courtships started with singing and trick flying and exchanging gifts. This silent, close moment underground was entirely the wrong way around.
Chance and tragedy and compassion brought them together. But it was something far more primal which prompted him to tuck his snout under her chin and close his eyes. A gesture of shy, tender trust.
Together, they buried the old den. Hiding the bodies from predators.
Together, they dug and gathered and made the new space comfortable.
Together, they took turns exploring this unfamiliar territory - and marking it, indicating both to one another and to any similarly wandering dragons where had been claimed. Returning with food, or fresh bedding… or, sometimes, a pretty gift for the other to coo over.
And together they spent the evenings tentatively sniffing and grooming each other and practising duets. The sort of getting-to-know-you process which generally does not involve a baby clambering across you and tugging at your ears. But here they were. Together.
Days passed. The forest settled once more. The baby dragons were happy again, and the songs their new parents sung over them grew ever more intricate and confident. Life and love went on.
And, perhaps, from the green shoots growing out of the old, fallen tree, approval and relief were whispered with the wind.

I took the prompt as “A love story between two dragons”.

Click through to see the art which inspired this story (and maybe read some other stories written for it while you're there).