> The Dragon and the Colt
>  by Abi Sain
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> The Dragon and the Colt
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

She extended her wings, stretching her muscles. Her body was sore, and she could still feel the weight of her tail as she got up from the rocks. The sun was hot now and the young dragon felt it on the back of her neck and felt her spine tingle as she moved. She could see the green of the shore. The light made prisms in the water.
Ada-Arian was content. The city had been found, and she could begin the first steps of her duty.  They were far away from the Hen Gartref, and she was glad to be away. The Gall Rhai were right to choose Tal-Gwynt. Had it been Afon-Gan, things would have been different. They would have halted a scant few days from Hen Gartref. Afon-Gan was too concerned with tradition and not enough with the pursuit of knowledge. The Gall Rhai were wise to choose Tal-Gwynt to reclaim the Gwaelod’a Cartref. And this is especially true now, with the Aur Ilwglyd so restless across the Dragon Lands.
She felt the light delicate breeze against her scales and then a hard push when the wind became stronger. She waited when the wind was just right, spreading her wings at the same time for she need enough lift to get herself in the air. Then came the wind pushing her forward and she leapt from the rocks.
She was happy feeling the gentle winds carrying her and then she saw something large and unbelievably strange. It was in the shore, lodged between the wet jagged rocks, and there were small creatures in the sand. Some were pulled back into the ocean by the waves, others remained, but they themselves didn’t move.
“Not fish,” she said. “Fish have scales, these have fur.”
She should return to the loremaster, she thought. She did not say that because she knew that if she did she may never learn what these creatures were. She knew what a rare chance this was and she thought of herself returning to Tal-Gwynt with one of the creatures to offer to him. At that moment, she felt herself descending. Then she landed on the moist sand and she approached carefully. Her stomach fluttered and one of the creature’s twitched and groaned for a moment and Ada-Arian was backing away.
It’s awake, she thought. Is it a trap or is it hurt?
She poked it gently while she readied the claws on her left hand and made ready to torch anything that might attack with her breath. It groaned again and tried to bring itself up.
“Are you awake?” she asked. “Are you trying to walk?”
Get up easy so that the waves won’t carry you off, she thought. Get up quietly and let me take you to the loremaster. All right. Are you ready? You won’t run, okay?
“Now!” she said aloud and quickly grabbed its tail with her right hand, causing it to scream and then dragged it closer and reached for its stomach, holding it tightly against her with all the strength of her arms and the weight of her body.
Nothing happened. The creature was too weak to struggle and the young dragon held him firmly. Her grip was strong and made for large game and she held the creature against her chest and felt its fur against her scales. Then it began to cough and whimper and she still held it, loosening her grip so that she wouldn’t hurt it. The creature began to speak, and although she could not understand the words, she knew it was pleading to her.
The young dragon wrapped his hind legs with her tail, and used her free hand to stroke his head. She tried speaking gently to it but the creature was still shaking.
“I wish you’d stop shaking,” the young dragon said aloud. “I won’t hurt you, and I can’t understand you if your babbling like an infant. Maybe you aren’t that smart. But then again, most beast don’t clothe themselves. I won’t let go until you stop whimpering, and I’ll catch you again if you try running.”
What will I do if I let go and he gets away, I don’t know. He’d probably end up getting eaten by the gwyllgi. But I can still show this wreck to Tal. There’s plenty here that I can bring back.
She loosened her grip and watched him moving steadily on the sand.
I might have to kill him, the young dragon thought. He’s small and looks sick. I doubt we have anything that could help. But the creature was still moving, looking at the bodies that laid motionless in the muddy shore and the wreck still stuck between the jagged rocks.
“They’ll want to know where I was,” she said. “You’ll have to come with me.”
The creature had pulled a silver chain out from the mud and pocketed it and he was looking at the young dragon. His lips were cracked and there was a bruise beneath its eye that had swelled and turned a dark purple. There were tears in his eyes and the young dragon reached out and laid his head against her chest and tried to comfort him.
They must have been part of his pack, she thought. He’s much smaller than the others too. She stroked his back, and combed the sand from his hair and looked at the sky and checked the sun. The clouds showed like puffs of wool in the sky. They were moving slowly and the glow of the sun was much stronger now, so that she knew that almost two hours had past. If I stay any longer I’ll get in trouble, she thought. But they’ll forgive me when they see what I brought. I wonder if they’ll let me keep him. He might heal if I keep a close eye. Then she thought, listen to yourself. Think of what they’ll say if you ask that. You mustn’t be stupid.
“Feeling better,” she said. “I’m sorry you had to lose them.” The creature looked up towards the young dragon and she remembered once being held in her mother’s arms. “If you come with me I can build you a shrine and you can see them again on spirit night.”
Does he understand me, she thought? He’s smart enough to wear clothes and he made that thing in the rocks. I must remember to choose my words carefully or the others will try and convince Tal he’s just a very clever beast.
She began to pity the creature. He’s soft, and fuzzy, and very small, she thought. Never have I seen one like him nor any animal that acted so strangely. Perhaps he was migrating with his pack. The wood thing could be a shelter, like the hermit crabs. Maybe that’s why he’s afraid. But what a great beast he is and what will he bring if he can be taught. I wonder if anyone else has seen anything like him?
“Are you feeling better?" she asked. She carefully spread her wings with the creature still in her arms.
Perhaps he will let me fly, she thought. But most animals tended to get scared when flying. But that was the fastest way to get back. I must remember to keep petting him once we’re in the air so he won’t struggle too much.
“I’m going to fly now,” she said softly. “Don’t be scared, alright. I’ve got you.”
He’s not shaking anymore, the young dragon thought and she waited for the wind to pick up. It was warmer now and she beat her wings against the air. It’ll be fine as long as he doesn’t struggle too much, she thought. As she ascended the creature whimpered and held onto her tightly, burying his face against her chest. His hooves were rough against her scales, but the young dragon was relieved. I wish he wasn’t so rough, but at least he’s smart enough to hold on. 
We’re almost there, she thought. Tal will have sent the others far into the citadel. I hope he isn’t too upset. Afon may be old-fashion, but she’s more patient than Tal. 
There were yellow banners on the rocks but the young dragon knew that they belonged to Tal-Gwynt, and she was pleased. It was the yellow gem-weave that warded off the coblynau. 
She landed gently as best as she could and she could feel the creatures heart beating rapidly. She knelt down and let him walk a bit and kept her wings spread around him so that the wind didn’t push him over. She gently held the back of his neck and guided him towards the ruined hall. The hall was sturdy and the old lanterns glowed a bright silver. Sacred knots and sigils that had been etched onto the walls were cracked and faded and the creature looked curiously at the etchings. Perhaps, she thought, he sees something that we don’t. But she said nothing to the creature who could barely understand her anyway and who would learn more about dragons soon enough.
When they made it into the rotunda the lights of the lanterns were out and had been replaced with tallow candles, a few of which had already melted. The air was stale and smelled mostly of charred pork. It was quiet though and they walked up to one of the slabs near the hide sheets. There was no one to help her so she lifted the creature up and sat him on top of the stone slab. Then she wrapped him in one of the sheets.
It was then that she realized she did not have a name for what he was. She stopped for a moment and looked over the creature and forcing his legs apart saw that he was indeed male. She checked the rough dark mass of his hooves, and the dull white hair on his head which was much thicker and longer than his auburn fur. She started to look over his face and, after rinsing her claw with water, carefully cut the swollen bruise beneath his eye, smearing the bloody wound with a mossy green paste. The creature whimpered and held her arm with his forehooves, and the young dragon gently rubbed his cheek, feeding him water from a granite bowl. Then she just watched the neighboring halls.
The sun was an hour higher when the others came. The wind was blowing so hard that no one would be flying and Ada-Arian feared there might be a storm and that the waves would carry the bodies and the wreck back into the ocean. A large, violet dragon saw Arian sitting across from them and then he saw the creature beside her and he eyes widened.  He approached the two, quietly requesting some mazagran and as he approached he was looking at the hoofed creature.
Many dragons were around the two looking at the creature sitting nervously on the slab and behind him, his sleeves rolled up, one was cautiously reaching for the creature’s head.
The creature did not flinch. His eyes were shut and he held Arian’s hand close to his face.
“What is he?” one of the dragons asked.
“I don’t know,” said Arian. They did not care that the creature was frightened. “Don’t get too close, he scares easily.”
“Is it a kind of dragon?” the dragon who tried touching him asked.
“Dragons don’t look like that,” another said.
“It could be from the Orient. I’ve hear stories about hoofed dragons.”
“It’s not a dragon.”
The violet dragon motioned for Arian to step away. The creature whimpered and shook but he didn’t move away.
“There’s a scroll marked V in my trunk. Someone fetch it for me.”
“Yes, loremaster.”
The dragon carried the large scroll marked V from the trunk to the violet dragon and watched him as he opened it. Once it looked as though he was upset. But he had found what he was looking for and the dragon looked up toward the creature with a curious, but kind, smile.
Finally, the violet dragon spoke.
“This thing,” he said. “Our ancestors called them merlod.” He drank some of the mazagran from the bottle.
The creature looked up towards the dragon.
“You understand, yes,” he said. “You are a merlod.”
The creature didn’t answer.
“What’s a merlod?” Arian asked.
“A frail, innocent creature. Our ancestors discovered them long before we fell into barbarism.”
“Where did you find him?” another asked.
“Along the shore, while I was flying. There were others, and a large wooden shell with sheets trapped between the rocks.”
“There is a storm coming,” said Tal-Gwynt. “It will probably be swept away by the tides.”
“We should send a team to- “
“No Haul. The Watchers say the storm will be too dangerous for flying.”
Graddfeydd-Haul wanted Tal to reconsider, but he saw the Watchers and he knew Tal was right. Arian noticed it as well, and considered it fortunate that she found the merlod early.
“You said there were others,” said Tal.
“Yes,” said Arian. She looked at the merlod and it made her feel sad to see his frightened face. “He was the only one alive that I found.”
“That is unfortunate. This one is very small. It may still be a child.”
Tal looked at the merlod. He wore his emotions as openly as he could, and his sympathy glowed warmly from his eyes.
“Can you speak?” he asked.
The merlod said nothing.
“He doesn’t understand ddraraith,” said Arian.
Tal placed his hand to his chest. He continued: “Tal-Gwynt.”
He pointed towards Arian.
“Ada-Arian.”
He gestured to the merlod.
“W-Wind Song,” the merlod said sheepishly.
Arian was silent, as were the others. Tal smiled. He quietly requested another scroll from his trunk. It was Arian who retrieved it.
Tal looked over the scroll carefully before he spoke again. He spoke each word slowly and carefully.
“Wind Song safe,” he said. “We ffrind.”
Tal struggled to find the word. Wing Song watched him briefly before speaking.
“Are you really a dragon?”
“Dragon?” one of them asked.
“Must be their word for dragon,” another whispered.
“Yes,” said Tal, pausing to check the scroll as he spoke. “We dragon.”
Wind Song fidgeted nervously, and Tal placed a hand on his cheek.
“Dragon ffrind,” he said. He looked back towards the scroll. “Dragon friend,” he corrected.
Wind Song looked towards Arian. Tal noticed and rolled up the scroll.
“I’ll get some scrolls and have a place prepared for you. How many days till our next report?”
“Eight days, loremaster,” one of the Watchers answered. “Storm should be gone before then.”
“There are plenty of areas that don’t require flying,” said Tal. “Arian, I’m putting you in charge of the merold.”
“I don’t know how to care for animals. Besides giving him water, the best I could do was take care of his bruises.”
“Haearn-Awyr can help you with that,” Tal said. “I need you to learn what you can about the merold. You brought him here, so he’s your responsibility.”
“I’ll bring the food and the parchment,” said Graddfeydd. “He should probably rest. I will bring stuff from the apothecary for his bruises.”
“Let the others know about our guest. I don’t want this one wandering off or getting hurt.”
“Yes, loremaster.”
As Graddfeydd left the rotunda towards the battered great hall Arian heard Wind Song’s voice. He watched her nervously and she stood close beside him, holding his hoof and spreading a wing over him.
That afternoon there were dragons moving through the rotunda and furthest from the neighboring halls with edible grasses, berries and roast pork prepared for them, Wind Song slept beside Arian, his head resting against her leg. An archivist saw Arian busily looking over the various scrolls and pieces of parchment spread messily on what was once the large stone head of a warrior’s spear.
“Is that the merold?” she asked Arian and pointed to Wind Song who was drooling on her leg.
“Yes,” Arian said. “His name is Wind Song.” She was meaning to explain what had happened.
“It’s adorable. I’ve never seen anything like him.”
“Me neither,” she said.
Arian gently combed his hair, which she learned was called a mane. He was still sleeping on her leg and she picked up a piece of parchment. On it, she had drawn a scroll and a green flame. The same image was on Wind Song’s flank and he called it his cutie mark.