A Wish Gone Whickered-ly Awry

20260805

Written for “Smogust’s Story Hoard”, prompt 3.

“Are you sure you need all this?” Wishy peers at the bags I’m loading onto the cart, tilting his head in what I assume is draconic puzzlement.
I nod.
“But that pile’s bigger than you are!”
Annoyed, I open my mouth to retort - and out comes a whicker. I settle for scowling.
Bessie flicks her tail and snorts, then says “Trust he knows what he’s doing.”
I still find it jarring when she speaks, particularly since, our voices having swapped, she sounds eerily like me. But the words are definitely her own. Hardly surprising, given how much sass she had before gaining human-level intelligence…
That’s a thought - thank goodness we didn’t swap minds! For all I’ve been cursing this wretched dragon, that wish could in fact have gone worse.
My annoyance is kept stoked by Wishy’s complaining. Keeps going on about how he wants his mistake fixed as soon as possible - as if we don’t! Honestly I can’t think whatever ‘demerits’ he gets will be a patch on what we’re suffering because of him.
Dusting my hands off, I inspect the cart and run down my mental checklist. Tent, sleeping bag, spare clothes, survival tools, first-aid kit, everything to care for Bessie, food and water…
I dearly wish I could ask about these mountains. But sadly Bessie didn’t gain the ability to read - which is fair enough, I only said I wished she could talk to me. And seems whatever dragon magic school Wishy is apprentice at doesn’t use writing. He couldn’t even figure out what I was trying to do.
So, just have to hope this is enough to get us safely to this ‘school’. And that Wishy’s right when he promises his teachers can fix everything.
Gotta admit, based on the only evidence I have of their magical prowess, namely their student… I’m not optimistic. Still, I have to try.
And hey, at least Bessie was able to explain to me why she’d started baulking at pulling the cart, and I got the sticking axel sorted. Absolutely totally not worth it, but I might as well clutch at what silver linings I can find.
“Are you ready now??”
Bessie rotates one ear and gives Wishy that head lowered sidelong glare which means she’s thinking of biting someone. Much as I understand the temptation, I pat her shoulder and frown sternly. If that dragon flies off in a huff, we’re stuck like this!
The snort she gives has a touch of ‘humph’ to it. This is really going to take getting used to.
With a last pensive glance at my supplies, I turn to Wishy and nod.
“Finally!” The little dragon flaps partway down the fence, alighting on a post to call “Come on!”
I click to Bessie - thank goodness that still works! - and we set off down the road. A path we’ve taken countless times… but today, we’re going straight at the crossroad. Towards the Mystic Mountains.
Please, let at least one of these teachers know their stuff…

Prompt was “Write a story or poem about the beginning of a journey into lands unknown, with only your trusty horse and dragon at your side.”