Free To A Good Den

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

Dragons collect things. They’re well known for it.

A dragon’s ‘ooh, that’s mine now’ instinct is on par with actual hunger but harder to satiate.

To a larger dragon the young mastiff would have seemed a pest. Assuming they noticed it at all. But forest dragons are scaled to move easily between trees, big enough to take down a galloping deer yet far too small to fly off with it.

The smell of blood from his latest kill was what drew the puppy. She didn’t dare approach while the dragon mantled the corpse, fear overriding her desperate hunger. Simply lingered in the brush in the hope there would be leftovers.

His gorging had slowed, his belly now distended. With most of the deer comfortably inside him flying would be a struggle. So he sniffed the remains one last time, wiped his face off on a pleasant-smelling shrub, and started lolloping towards his den.

As soon as his back turned the puppy darted out of hiding to investigate what was left, the sudden motion causing the dragon’s head to twist back around. But now that there was meat between her teeth the hunger overrode all else. She simply trembled as he slowly paced back to his discarded kill, frantically worrying at the deer’s head which he’d left almost intact. Its glazed eyes watched him stand over this tiny predator.

The dragon gingerly sniffed. Intrigued. This scrawny hungry creature was covered in fascinating smells. Smoke. Human. Harsh scents he couldn’t begin to put a label to.

Then she looked up, eyes wide and legs trembling, and licked his nose.

The dragon recoiled. She shrank down so her belly pressed against the blood-soaked grass. A helpless, apologetic whine wormed from her throat but only confused the dragon further.

After a long and careful consideration, his head descended once more and a long green tongue delicately returned the gesture.

He smelt of earth and sulphur and deer. Fresh deer.

That reminder awoke the hunger again and she turned back to their forgotten audience to gnaw and worry and slurp. The dragon watched as every scrap of flesh he’d missed or ignored was cleaned up. Until the little creature’s belly was as drum-like as his.

She wagged her tail vigorously and lapped at his chin. This time he accepted the gesture gracefully.

He’d never had a clutch. In fact he’d never managed to attract a mate. Admittedly he was young still, merely twenty-something years. But this lack of experience meant he didn’t understand the feelings he was getting, watching a much smaller, more vulnerable predator eating from his kill and thanking him.

Instincts knew what to do, however.

So he nuzzled the top of her head and gave a hot sulphurous snort. ‘You’re mine now.’ Then he wrapped his mouth around her back, ignoring her confused yelp, and resumed lolloping back to his den.

By nightfall she was curled up beside him in the hollow hillside, savouring his warmth and her full belly. Home.

Prompt was “The young puppy cuddles next to the dragon. He has a home now…”