Breezy Beach groaned as he shuffled out of the bar’s back door and into the late night air, the sound of breaking glass and a wild brawl escaping past the stallion’s broad frame. The leg of a chair and used mug smashed harmlessly against the alley’s far wall before he managed to shut the fire-door behind him with a heavy thump.
“Why do they even call it Happy Hour?” Breezy asked the night as he gingerly stepped over some of the detritus that filled the alleyway. He chuckled at his own joke before wincing, holding a hoof to the side of his head and fighting back on the urge to release the contents of his stomach over the rain-slicked stones. The alcohol clung to his mind like an amorous octopus, causing his vision to waver as he stubbornly tried to remember which path lead home.
One of the brown stallion’s hooves found a patch of rainwater and, with a high-pitched yelp, he was sent tumbling forwards. “Crap crap crap craaaap!” he cried out before he slammed into a nearby pile of garbage face-first, apple cores and old cans flying up into the air around him. Lifting his head out of the refuse, Breezy spat out an empty milk carton. “This… might just be the worst night I’ve had in a while,” he declared.
With a sigh, he slowly rose up to his hooves, shaking off the wet garbage like a dog shook off water. His nose scrunched up in protest as he brushed a banana peel off his shoulder, the rotten fruit leaving just one of numerous new stains on his favorite shirt. It had been a gift when he had last visited the tropics, a memento from a mare he had met while writing up a review for one of the hotels along the beachfront. Her name, like the hotel’s, eluded him in his drunken stupor, but he could still remember how they had sat together, watching the sunset drop down over the water while talking about nothing important. He could almost smell the sea as he pictured looking into her green – no, blue. Purple? – eyes, but like the rest of the memory it soon slipped out of his grasp, leaving Breezy staring down at himself as he stood hoof-deep in grime and mildew.
Shaking his head to clear out the booze-fueled melancholy that threatened to overtake him, Breezy focused on the more important task ahead of him: finding his way home. He still had a deadline to meet, and as a consummate professional, he wasn’t going to let a little drinking keep him from his work. Tired, intoxicated, and covered in rubbish he may be, but he still had his pride.
With a confident snort that sounded more like a sneeze, Breezy chose one end of the alley at random and took a strong, bold step forward – right onto a plank that had been supporting a precariously stacked pile of empty boxes. The entire structure collapsed into the alleyway with a resounding crash that launched the neighborhood dogs into a chorus of barking. From above him a perturbed stallion shouted, “Shut up out there! You damn drunk. Some of us have work in the morning!” before slamming a window closed.
Breezy glared up at the window for a few moments. “Oh yeah? Well… you shut up!” he finally managed to shout back, but there was no response. Embarrassed and insulted in equal measure, Breezy spun around on unsteady hooves and bucked the large pile of refuse with as much force as his drunken limbs could produce. A few bags shifted position under the feeble and uncoordinated assault, his repeated kicks causing a single wooden box to fall to the cobblestones beside with a sharp crack. Focused on venting his rage on the garbage, Breezy didn’t notice the large white oval roll out of the box until it bumped against his hoof, causing him to jump in alarm and retreat a few steps for fear of being bitten by some rabid animal of the night.
Spinning around to confront his attacker, legs at the ready, Breezy was confronted by a large ivory orb sitting inert in the middle of the alley, a single crack running up its side. An… egg? He blinked a few times. A big egg. A really, really big egg.
Breezy cautiously reached out to poke at the side of the egg, causing it to teeter back and forth a few times. When the feared attack failed to materialize, Breezy let out a relieved chuckle, his cheeks burning scarlet as he thanked his lucky stars nopony had seen him panicked by a rotten egg, as big as it might be. It can’t even be an egg, really, he told himself. It looks more like a white stone. He thumped it with his hoof again, just for good measure, before picking it up. He tossed it from hoof to hoof, a faintly victorious smirk on his face. Yeah. It’s too heavy to be an egg. It feels like a rock.
The rock chirped.
Breezy froze. Rocks don’t chirp.
When the egg-rock-thing trembled and chirped again, Breezy dropped it like it had grown fangs. It hit the cobblestones with the sound of breaking porcelain, causing the crack along the side to yawn wider. Stunned into stillness by intoxicated confusion, he stared down at the thing as it twitched from side to side. By the time his brain processed that being alone in a dark alley at night while something hatched from a mysterious egg was probably the plot of half the horror books he’d read and he should probably start running for safety before he was devoured, he could already see a pair of tiny claws pushing through the crack in the shell.
The repeated refrain of ‘It’s going to eat you. It’s going to eat you. It’s got CLAWS and it’s going to EAT YOUR FACE!’ that thundered in Breezy’s head sent a surge of adrenaline racing through his blood, but just as his brain and body finally got their act together and he remembered how to move his limbs, the egg burst apart in a small shower of egg fragments.
Laying in the midst of what had been it’s eggy prison was a small, yellow, reptilian... thing. Its long, thin tail swept the little bits of shell back and forth as it sat there in a shallow puddle of dirty rainwater, looking as stunned as Breezy felt. It wrinkled its nose and wipe its tiny claws across its muzzle. It blinked several times, squinting as it took in its new world. In the beginning its vision was engulfed in darkness. As its vision adjusted, it looked up at the large, dark shadow that towered above it, eyes widening as the pony swam into focus.
“Dddddd…. Ddddddd…” It stumbled over its tongue, words not quite forming. It stood, little legs shaking, but before long it was standing on its own. Then, as if it had always known how, it was running at the tree-trunk of a leg before it, wrapping tiny little arms as best it could around the fuzzy appendage.
Breezy shrieked like a frightened foal and began flailing his leg about wildly, abandoning the last of his pride. “Ahhhhhh! Help! It’s trying to eat me! It’s trying to eat me!” He spun around on three legs as he shook his leg in an increasingly desperate attempt to dislodge the monster, all the while screaming for for help. Drunk and panicked, it didn’t take long for Breezy to exhaust himself. Gasping for air, he collapsed against a nearby wall.
The reptile glanced up at Breezy as he gasped for air. He winced as it bared its teeth, prepared for the sharp pain as it tore into his delicious, tender flesh. “Dddadda!” it chirped.
“D-dada?” Breezy wheezed back almost automatically. When the word finally penetrated the heavy fog of alcohol and blind panic that shrouded his mind, his racing heart skipped a beat. “Wait, what? No! Nononono!” he cried out, lifting his leg and vigorously shaking it from side to side once again. “I am not your daddy!”
The little creature held fast as it swung back and forth, its loud giggles echoing off the brick walls. Again, Breezy danced about as he tried to dislodge the little laughing limpet. He growled. “C’mon! Get off, you little lizard!”
Then, one of his hooves found another discarded banana peel, and the whole world rotated around him. He landed on his back, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs and filling his vision with nothing but stars.
A moment later, the grasping bundle of horrors landed atop his stomach, clapping its little hands together. Breezy just let out a pathetic whimper.
Eventually the reptile stood up and waddled forward, swaying on the unsteady footing, planting itself down on the stallion’s chest. Its little tail wagged back and forth as the stars cleared from Breezy’s vision. Sitting only inches from the end of the muzzle and unable to move much more than his eyes, Breezy got his first real glimpse at the little beast. Out of the pain and alcohol-fueled malaise that gripped his mind came the identity of his attacker.
It was a dragon. A tiny, ugly, pony-eating dragon. With fangs. Sharp fangs. And claws. Sharp, sharp claws. And beady, slitted eyes that were staring right at him, sizing him up as a rabbit would a carrot.
Letting out something between a whimper and a moan, Breezy’s eyes rolled up into his head as he finally blacked out.
Something was pulling on Breezy’s shirt. Lounging in the comforting arms of unconsciousness, he did his best to ignore it, but the tugging grew more insistent, and was soon accompanied by little stinging pinpricks along his chest.
With great reluctance, consciousness pulled Breezy back into reality and – as his eyes fluttered open – he found himself staring down at the fanged devil as it nuzzled its golden scales against his coat. Moonlight glistened off its claws as it made a cross between a hiss and a purr, but it seemed content to simply brush up against him instead of eviscerating him for dinner.
At the back of his mind, Breezy knew he should still be panicking. He had a predator sitting atop him; panic was a fully respectable and justified response. Yet he remained calm, as much to his surprise as anyone’s. It could have been the adorable noises it was making, the fact that it was small enough to fit in a cereal bowl, or the concussion, but he didn’t find the little dragon frightening anymore. Despite the claws and scales and oh so sharp fangs, it was still just a baby.
“Dada!” it chirped as he lifted his head a few inches off the ground.
Okay, maybe it’s the booze talking, but it is kinda adorable… in a fanged monstrosity from hell sort of way, he thought, fighting down the urge to flinch when it flexed it’s claws. Instead of attacking it simply rubbed them together, suddenly engrossed in its own hands. There was something endearing about his former tormentor, something fragile and delicate, like an injured bird. He felt his heart melt when the dragon scrunched up its face, looking like it were about to sneeze in the most adorable manner possible.
And then it did sneeze, and a gout of orange flame engulfed his chest.
“GAAAAAH!” Breezy shrieked like a schoolfilly noticing a peeping tom. He beat his hooves against his burning shirt, sending a shower of sparks up into the sky. In desperation, he rolled himself over into a mud puddle, sending the dragon sailing off his body.
It landed in a squishy pile of trash with a wet thump, knocking some garbage loose and causing a banana peel to drop onto its head. It chirped in confusion, clawing at the air, unsure at how to combat its smelly opponent. After a moment it flopped over, defeated, and began crying out in fear.
The stallion lifted himself out of the grimey puddly just as the hatchling began bawling its eyes out, the sound of the infant’s wails driving an instinctive bolt of concern straight into his sodden chest. “Don’t cry!” Breezy said as he stumbled towards the garbage can and lifted the dragon free, the peel falling free from its golden head. “Come on now, don’t cry. Please? I mean, I’ll, uh, buy you… ice cream?”
The small bundle in his arms continued to wail, little fists balled and eyes squeezed shut. Breezy’s eyes flitted between the creature and the alleyway, tempted to simply escape, and afraid of what would happen if a passerby were to notice a drunk stallion standing alone with a crying child in his arms. “Seriously kid, please stop crying. I really, really don’t need this right now.”
Small plumes of smoke began to leak out of the creature’s nostrils as it noticeably grew a few degrees warmer. The knowledge that he was holding an upset living flamethrower in an alley filled with flammable garbage caused Breezy’s voice to jump a few octaves. “Look, I promise, if you stop crying, I’ll take you home and, and give you anything you want! Just please, stop!”
To his shock, the wailing lump of golden scales in his hooves grew quiet, its face a mask of utter seriousness. It leaned forward, placing its little claws on either side of his muzzle. “Dada.”
Breezy froze. “What?”
The dragon’s green eyes sparkled. “Dada,” it repeated.
Breezy’s jaw dropped. “No. No! I already told you, I am not your dada!” he protested, shaking his head vigorously. “That ain’t happening.”
“Dada!” the little dragon said in a happy little shriek, giggling as Breezy spun around looking for assistance.
“Oh, come on! I’m far too young, single, and good looking to be a father to a reptile!” he moaned. “What sort of stupid nightmare is this?”
The creature giggled, clapping its claws excitedly. It looked up at the stallion’s face in wonder as its temperature normalized. The tail swung back and forth lazily as it attempted to mimic the distraught visage of the pony.
Letting out a long sigh, Breezy planted his rear on the damp cobblestones. “Thank Celestia,” he mumbled, still cradling the squirming dragon in his forelegs. He could feel the dragon’s small hands grasping at his goatee, its weak claws barely able to hold onto the mud-slickened hairs before sliding away. He chuckled. “Okay, I admit it. You are kind of adorable. But we’re not done talking, you and I. Tomorrow, once I’ve sobered up, we’re gonna have a discussion about this.”
The little dragon stared back blankly as its forked tongue flicked out into the air.
Breezy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Gonna have a discussion with the newborn.”
With a resigned sigh he hefted the little dragon up and placed it over one of his shoulders. It wrapped its arms around his neck and began to thrum, its entire body vibrating at it made that sibilant purr again. He smiled. “What are you, a cat?”
The sudden burst of liquid warmth down the front of his chest sent his back ramrod straight. His nostrils flared as the acrid odor filled the alleyway. He hooked a hoof under each of the lizard’s armpits and held it out as far as possible from his body. The dragon met his stare, and Breezy could swear it was smirking as it continued to urinate on the stones beneath them.
“So, you’re a girl then. That's one mystery solved.”
Day 4
The sun was barely peeking over the crest of the horizon when Breezy Beach was awoken by cries of anguish and the acrid scent of something burning. Cracking open one blood-shot eye he glanced over at his bedside. His grandfather’s old silver pocket watch sat there, propped up on books to act as an impromptu alarm clock. He groaned at the absurdly small number. For a moment he fantasized about rolling over and trying to get a few more minutes of sleep, but a renewed burst of wailing drilled into his ears like a sadistic carpenter, making sleep impossible.
Like he had every morning that week, he levered himself out of bed and, yawning, plodded down the hall to the bathroom. He sighed at the few strands of acrid smoke leaking from the top of the door frame. He would have to replace the towels soon.
The wailing reached a new crescendo when he finally opened the door, the burst of smoke sending him into a coughing fit. He turned away and held the door open, clearing the room and his lungs of smoke. His ceiling had turned grey from the particles, but he barely noticed it anymore. Only once he could breathe freely did he step inside what had been a pristine (for a bachelor) bathroom.
Now it was a disaster zone. A few large buckets of water were placed strategically around the room, resting against walls bearing claw and fire damage along the lower edge. Everything was covered in a fine layer of soot. Breezy tried to swear, but it only sent him into another round of coughing.
At the sound of his voice the squeals died away, replaced with cheerfully inane babbling. He turned to face the source of the chaos, staring at what had once been his bathtub. Now, it was a monument to fire prevention. The shower curtain had long since been burned away. Dampened towels were nailed into the walls atop one another, each newcomer planted over the scorched remains of its predecessor. Only the freshed claw marks could be seen through the black residue coating the tiles.
There was a hiccup from his tormentor, and a stream of orange fire shot up into the air to engulf one of the towels. It hissed as the last of the water he’d soaked it in the night before was turned into steam, the burst of heat enough to sear the lower, drier portions of the towel, leaving it a half-burnt wreck.
Breezy let out something between a curse and a whimper, rubbing a hoof along the numerous bandages and bald spots along his arms in sympathy. “Don’t let it sense your fear,” he said beneath his breath, repeating it a few times. “If you keep calm, it’s less likely to set you on fire.” Steeling himself, Breezy advanced to the tub and glanced inside at the horrifying bundle of golden scales sitting in the fire-marked tub.
The little dragon released the tail she’d been sucking on and let out a squeal of delight. She reached up with her stubby arms and made a grasping motion. “Dada!”
Breezy shuttered. “I’m not your father, you little fire-belching monstrosity. I’m the poor soul that has to take care of you until I can pawn you off onto that pegasus that runs the animal shelter. Until then I’m stuck feeding and cleaning you and hoping you don’t burn down my apartment and kill me in my sleep. You’re a hideous, selfish beast, I wish I’d never found that stupid egg, and I am not your daddy!”
They stared at one another in silence, the dragon cocking her head to the side as Breezy tried to pour as much of his resentment and frustration into one single gaze, hoping to breach the barrier of age and species and communicate his inner feelings, praying that the dragon might understand just what he was saying. Her expression was serious – far too serious for such a young thing. Eventually she opened her mouth and made her pronouncement.
“Dada.”
Breezy hung his head in defeat. “Fine. If thinking I’m your father makes you less likely to flambé me, then I’ll put up with it for now,” he told her, thankful that the towels he’d placed inside for her to sleep on were still mostly intact. He could hear his mother’s voice chiding him making a baby sleep in a tub. But after his only attempt to create a proper bed for her had ended in a predictably fiery end, he’d decided that he had to be creative until he could get rid of the lizard.
Besides, sleeping in a tub was a blessing when compared to burning to death.
Scooping her up he planted the dragon on his back – and immediately lifted her away again. Stiffly and without a word he turned around and lay the dragon down on the bathroom counter before reaching for a replacement diaper. He could feel his mother smirking at him from beyond the grave. Cursing whatever twist of fate had kept him from being born a unicorn, he took up the well-sanitized tongs in his teeth and set to work.
Breakfast was the most important meal of the day – another bit of wisdom drilled into Breezy’s head by his mother. While no willing companion to early mornings, Breezy had certain enjoyed the satisfaction and well-being that came with enjoying a late breakfast or filling brunch. There was a period of calm and solitude that fed the soul for the labors ahead.
Feeding the little parasite was anything but.
He pulled the bowl of porridge out of the ice box and gave it a sniff. He smiled. Still good. He dropped the bowl on the table before removing the dragon from his back and squeezing her into his home-made foalseat - an old chair, some cinder blocks, and a worn belt to ensure she was kept in place.
The dragon’s babbling came to an end when her eyes eventually found the bowl. Instead, she let out a low hiss, her tail lashing against the chair. Squirming in her seat, the dragon gave him a pleading look.
“No. I don’t want to hear any complaints about breakfast,” Breezy said as he plunged his metal spoon into the bowl and withdrew a sizeable lump. The dragon blanched. “It’s what you’re going to eat, and that’s that.”
Breezy ducked when she scrunched up her face and closed her eyes, but instead of the expected gout of searing flame she let loose with a loud wail, her claws gouging furrows into the chair as she beat her hands against the armrests.
Seizing the opportunity, Breezy lunged forward and forced the overladen spoon into the dragon’s open mouth. The lizard’s eyes popped open and she swallowed reflexively. She licked her lips as she looked up at him, the blessed silence lasting until she remembered that she was supposed to be upset.
Her shrill bellows echoed around the room as Breezy scooped up another spoonful of porridge. It was an endless cycle. Food. Silence. Screaming. Food. Silence. Screaming. His ears were ringing loudly as he scraped the bottom of the bowl and fed her another bite. He feared he might go deaf before he could red rid of the little monster. The howling resumed once the spoon was clear of the dragon’s stubby fangs.
It couldn’t happen fast enough.
After burping the little lizard and putting out the resulting fire, Breezy took the slightly sleepy dragon and set her on his bed, using the pillows to ensure she didn’t roll over onto the floor in her dreams, and rushed to feed and bathe himself before she woke up.
Hot water cascaded off of him, dripping off his muzzle as he stared down at his hooves. Breezy let out the low sigh of a stallion many times his age. The fear of finding a grey-hair in his mane kept him away from the mirror. “All I want is my old life back,” he muttered beneath his breath. Experience had taught him that any loud noise could awaken her, and he needed the moment of solitude like a fish needed the sea.
The promise to avoid thinking about her was broken swiftly, his thoughts always circling back to the free-loading lizard lounging on his bed. No matter how hard he tried – and oh, how he did – he couldn’t bring himself to hate the little parasite. Despite the claws, fangs, and flames, she was still little baby.
“And until the veterinarian Buttersky gets back from wherever she’d gotten off too, I’m stuck up a creek without a paddle.” The words only soured his mood, and he let out a frustrated groan. Why didn’t he do the sensible thing and run away as fast his legs could carry him? What possessed him to take care of a monstrosity instead of just leaving her to her fate?
He lifted his gaze and frowned. “Is this your revenge for not giving you grandchildren before you died?” he asked the ceiling, daring his mother to respond.
There was a loud bang from the bedroom followed by a loud, frightened wailing, and Breezy had his answer.
Breezy raced down the hallway and threw open the door to his bedroom, a trail of soap and water following behind him. He rushed to the side of the bed and glanced around in a panic, trying to see through the painful haze of soap and shampoo that was dripping into his eyes.
She wasn’t on the bed.
He glanced around franticly, following her by hearing alone.
When he found her he almost shouted in relief, but it was short-lived. She had climbed up onto the bedside table and lay there near the edge, crying out and making grasping motions towards the floor. He followed where she was pointing and saw his grandfather’s silver pocket resting on the floor beside the lamp she’d knocked aside.
He wiped some of the soap from his eyes. No, it was only most of his grandpa’s watch. A few obvious bite-marks suggested where the rest of it had ended up.
Her cries became pleading whispers when she noticed him standing there, continuing to make motions towards the watch.
He picked up the remains of the old family heirloom, his father’s words ringing in his ears about the connection with the past and the watch being a sign of his responsibility as an adult. Having gone completely silent, the dragon’s eyes tracked the watch with a disturbing focus. She licked her lips.
After a long silence he dropped the watch into her waiting claws, eliciting a squeal of delight. The sound of eager chomping filled the room as he exited silently. He was too exhausted to be angry. At that moment, all he could hope was that the meal had bought him a little more time alone.
Just a few minutes more solitude and it would almost be worth it.
Day 6
“I’m sorry Mr. Beach, but that’s just not going to happen.”
“What do you mean it’s not going to happen? You’re my insurance agent!”
“And what I’ve got sitting on my desk right now are nine separate claims for smoke and fire damage, six for miscellaneous damages under the label of ‘big dragon claws’, four for lost and destroyed property, three for water damage, a destroyed pocket watch, and… four trips to the hospital for animal-related injuries. I’m sorry to say Mr. Beach but at this point it’s starting to get suspicious.”
“Suspicious? I’ve got a dragon living in my apartment now, and you think fire-damage is suspicious?”
“Sir, you can’t still be expecting me to take this whole ‘dragon’ story seriously.”
“Yes of course I expect you to take it seriously! Why don’t you come down to Ponyville and I’ll show you the damned thing. Maybe after she sets your head on fire you’ll believe me.”
“So this isn’t another example of you trying to lie about getting drunk and setting the couch on fire for a pay out, is it?”
“That was never proven in court.”
“Or the time you tried to blame a, and I quote here, ‘shifty looking zebra’ for stealing your radio?”
“I resent the insinuation.”
“Or when all your windows were broken from the inside and you –”
“Yes yes, I get it. Look, if you won’t believe me, then just send someone out to investigate and I’ll show them the dragon.”
“Sir, if you want to continue this, ahem, story about owning a baby dragon and demand payment on these claims, then I feel compelled to remind you that your renter’s policy and your contract with your leasing office doesn’t include a provision for owning any pets.”
“Pets?”
“Yes sir, Mr. Beach. Damages caused by pets are not covered by the terms of your agreement and–”
“She’s not a pet. She’s a wild animal! A wild animal that breathes fire!”
“–and as such any investigation that found the damages were caused by your harboring of an animal, wild or not, would not only be dismissed as not covered by your policy, it would also result in penalties and fines for being in breach of contract with your leasing office.”
“Are you telling me that you’re not going to cover any of this because I’m taking care of an animal in need? That’s heartless! What about compassion and charity and basic pony decency? Don’t you have a soul?”
“I work in the insurance industry, Mr. Beach. It’s not my job to have a soul.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Then I think we both are on the same page, sir. I will just discard these claims and… by Celestia’s name, what was that noise?”
“That was the sound of a dragon setting fire to the article I've been working on all week. And laughing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get going.”
Day 9
“Terror-Maw, Destroyer of Ponies?”
Breezy stared down at the dragon as she rested on her back and clasped at her toes, letting out little chirps of nonsense. No reaction. With a methodical motion he picked up the clipboard and crossed out the name.
“Yellow Mountain the Tyrant?”
More chirps, along with a half-hearted dada when she caught his gaze. The pencil made a definitive slash across the paper.
“The Great and Mighty Stoneclaw?”
The dragon rolled over onto her side and began to suckle on the end of her tail noisily. As before, the rejected name was removed from the list.
And so Breezy ran through the list of names until the last – Jormungandr – was ignored like all the rest. He nibbled on the end of his pencil as he stared off into the distance while the dragon focused all of her attention on her tail, gnawing on it with her stubby fangs. The pair of them chewed in silence.
“Come on, you’ve gotta give me something to work with here,” he said with a loud sigh. The dragon looked up at him in mild surprise. “I thought all you dragons are supposed to have big, long, powerful sounding names with some terrifying adjective attached to it. How am I supposed to give you a name you’ll like later in life? I don’t know anything about what makes a tough, intimidating sounding dragon name. My parents were named Rocky and Sandy, for crying out loud!”
Spitting out the pencil, Breezy began pacing around the room. He walked a well known path, the carpet was worn thin from so many nights of writer’s block. Refusing to remove the captured tail from her mouth the dragon simply moved her head a little from side to side to keep the stallion in her sights.
Every now and again he turned to glance over at her while he talked it out to himself. “Well, I can’t just keep calling you dragon. That would be absurd. Ponies would think I was mad if I told them about Dragon the dragon. And that Flustershy pony would probably think I’d been neglecting you if I showed up and told her that’s what I’d named you. I heard she’s a bit… you know, like that.”
Reaching the end of his five-lap circuit he turned around and began walking it in the other direction, the small ritual so ingrained into his subconscious he barely even realized he was doing it. The dragon giggled at the small spin, but he ignored the muffled laugh. “But do I really need to name you at all? I mean, hopefully she’ll be back in a few days and you’ll be some other pony’s problem. She’s good with animals. I bet she knows how to name a dragon perfectly.”
Stop, rotate, walk. The little dragon giggled a little louder, ignoring her tail in favor of the stallion mechanically moving around the room.
“Still, I guess I should at least give her something to take with her. Something I can remember when I look back on this week and… I dunno, weep with joy that it’s over. It doesn’t have to be some grandiose dragon name. Something suitable. Something practical. Something like… Claw? Fire Face? Golden Guts?”
As he completed his third pirouette the little dragon burst out laughing, her face split by a wide grin as she clapped her hands together.
Breezy paused and stared back at her, the rest of his monologue withering on his tongue. “Golden Guts? That’s the name you respond to?” he asked, deadpan.
She reached out for him with her little grasping claws. “Dadada!”
Despite himself he found a slow smile play over his face. “Well… I guess it’s as good a sign as anything,” he said as he walked over to her and scooped her up into his arms. Taking a seat, he rubbed her belly-scales with his hoof, sending her into another fit of laughter. “Okay, I know it’s both fitting and technically accurate, but that’s not a serious name. I was just kidding about it.”
She ignored his rambling as she squirmed and laughing, her claws grasping at his hoof.
“So how about Golden Scales? Golden Fang. Golden… Tail? Golden… Golden… Gold–eiiii!” Breezy’s voice ended in a shriek as the exuberant dragon’s claws grasped his forearm tight enough to dig into his flesh. He shook her claws loose and jerked his hoof away. She chuckled back up at him, her innocent expression melting the angry accusations on his face.
Opening his mouth to tell her off, the words died on his tongue. He blinked in surprise before giving her a thin smile. “You know what? I’m calling you Goldie from now on. You’ve been a monumental pain from day one, so it’s only fitting that your name reflects some of that agony I’ve had to suffer through.”
Goldie just laughed.
