The Balmy Berry

There was once a small silver dragon who wandered mountain landscapes alone. She stood only as tall as a large coniferous tree, and was not apt to take flight into the skies. There were tales of the little dragon throughout the many breeds of creatures, who all had at least two or three members who claimed to have seen the little dragon with their own eyes. The dragon became somewhat of a myth, although her reality was anything but.

Dragging her soft plump belly across the hardened rocks of the mountains, the little dragon stopped counting the days. For at least a hundred years she had been outcast from her fellow dragons, all fearful of breeding a new type of a small weak dragon that would bring the entire breed to a shameful end. The dragon could not remember how she felt about the situation one way or the other. It had been so long that she did not remember the faces of her original clan, or even the day that she had been forced to leave it- or if she had even been forced to leave at all.

The only thing that was certain for the dragon was her monotonous movement throughout the lands. She never stopped in one place for longer than to sleep, as to keep attention away from herself. She had found that when others saw her, they gawked and yelped, scurried and rolled. Some creatures laughed. It was easier for her to keep in motion. She trudged through rivers, dug her claws through mud, waded through fields of green and muscled through thick forests. She was always alone, and always in motion. Those two facts were never changing.

The little dragon was silver and beautiful, with large claws and strong white teeth. Some would comment that it was a shame, and had it not been for her stature, the dragon would have maybe been a leader. The dragon would have ruled over her own clan of dragons, soared high up above the clouds and ushered in an entire section of gorgeous silver scaled dragons. This, unfortunately, was the myth. The dreams of what could be haunted the poor dragon and picked at the spikes on her back when outside eyes were laid upon them.

The days drug into weeks, the weeks into months, the months into years, and as time is wont to do, it aged the little dragon. She was as beautiful as she had ever been, aging into a mature straight-backed beauty, lurking through the woods on all fours. One day, the dragon decided to stop. She was unsure why she had stopped at this particular tree to dig her claws into, in some sort of an attempt to stretch herself out. She had been traveling for a long time now and was craving a rest. There was a stream nearby, which meant that the fairy-folk would also be lingering nearby. These facts made this particular spot an unsavory one, and not ideal for stopping. The dragon, however, for whatever reason, did stop that day.

While combing her back against the rough bark of a tree, the dragon heard a sudden scuffle within the woods. She lowered her head, closed her eyes, and listened. Inhaling through her wide nostrils, the dragon could smell the clumsy mud creatures. The youngest of creatures on earth, the mud creatures had crawled out of the loam and began building settlements throughout the lands. They seemed to have no magic and reeked of the dirtiest parts of soil. Most creatures avoided them. The dragons were famously partial to the humans, who posed no threat to their strength.

The mud creatures appeared to be battling one another, fighting and huffing, grunting and shoving. The dragon shook her head and lowered her body into the ground. She peered past the trees, searching for the humans. It did not take her long to slither a little further up a path to find them. Two large male humans fought at each other, both weak and smelling of blood and shame. The dragon was unsure of what to make of the scene. She had not had any entertainment in a while, or much to mold her mind around. It was important for dragons to learn, to be able to carry tales to other creatures and dragons. This was their unspoken duty in the world. This particular dragon had been robbed of that duty when she was cast away to the wilderness. Now, she began to pretend that she had that duty still and decided she would stay and gather information.

The two humans wrestled one another for a long time before the both of them collapsed into one another, and the stench of their blood pooled out into the air. The little dragon wanted to stuff mud into her nose to dampen the smell but did not move. The two humans were unmistakably dead, laying limp next to one another. “What a waste,” the little dragon commented, shaking her large head at the pitiful scene. Suddenly, with all of the commotion settled, the dragon heard a piercing cry cut through the air. She could tell that the noise was steady and had been there for some time- had she not heard the sound over the crashing of the soft bodies of the two males?

It did not take long for the dragon to find the source of the sound, tucked away inside of a hollowed-out tree. The dragon sniffed at the tree and could tell that one of the men had dug his hands deep into the bark and pulled at the structure to create a hole. This within itself was curious to the dragon, as creatures did not often damage trees on purpose. The smell coming from the sound was sweet and soft like that of the lavender fields the dragon had once explored, years ago, in another part of the earth. The smell was so intoxicating that it drew the head of the dragon upright, towards the center of the tree.

Tucked within the bark, covered in a wool blanket –undoubtedly crafted by the same human who had dug the hole out in the tree- was a small offspring of the humans. The dragon caught her breath and stared at the creature in awe. The baby wailed up at the dragon, kicking and thrashing its fat little limbs in desperation. “Oh, oh my!” the little dragon gasped, jerking her head back in shock. The little creature kept wailing, and the little dragon kept staring down at it. At last, shaken from her shock, the little dragon decided that the sound of the wails was too much to bare. The dragon grabbed hold of the baby in her claws and tugged it from the tree, quickly but carefully.

The baby instantly stopped crying. Its face was plump and red, swollen from fright and tears. Its large brown eyes, set in an almond shape and surrounded by dark ebony skin, stared up at the dragon knowingly. The dragon stared down at the baby, and could not help but to sniff at the gorgeous flower like aroma spewing from the creases in the baby’s neck. The baby giggled, and grabbed hold of the sides of the dragon’s face. The little dragon huffed out a warming breath that splashed across the baby’s cheeks, and the baby cooed back at her. “Hello little one! How strange and cute you are. All brown and yet all red! You mud creatures are so strange...” the dragon hummed, swaying her torso back and forth in some sort of an attempt to comfort her large body with holding such a delicate thing.

The dragon had never felt bigger than she did in that moment. This thought was not lost on her as she began to make her way to the stream she could smell in the distance. For once, the dragon did not hesitate before shuffling out of the bush and heading for the water. It had been many years since the dragon had popped out of a bush unexpectedly, and she herself did not even notice the sturdy movement she had suddenly adapted. Without thinking, the dragon sat herself in front of the water and held the baby upright. The baby was sturdy enough, able to raise itself up and support itself. The dragon wondered if the thing could walk, but decided not to test it just yet. After all, the wailing had only stopped for a few moments, and the dragon was enjoying the sound of the forest around them.

“Oh, a little dragon and a little mud creature!” a tiny voice said, startling the dragon. The dragon spun her head to find a little fairy sitting by the water, bright and whimsical, covered in mud and leaves. The dragon huffed at the fairy and directed her attention back to the water. “Mind your own, fairy. You’ll be wise to go on about your way.” the dragon warned. The little fairy chirped out a giggle and rocked back and forth on the log on which she was sat. “I think this is the most wise I have been in a long time, to have come across such a rare sight! Where on earth did you get one of those, dragon?” The fairy tried to peer around and see the little pudgy brown baby, who peered around the dragon to stare back at her. Both baby and fairy began to chortle.

The dragon lifted the baby up in her arms so that the two could not stare after one another, visibly irritated. “That’s my business, you. Why don’t you flutter away from here and leave us be?” the little dragon hissed from barred teeth. The fairy threw up her arms and roared with laughter. “Us? And are the two of you apart of some unspoken clan? What a day! And to think, I almost did not come to play in the river today! What a day!” The fairy shook her little head in disbelief. The dragon sighed and tried to settle the squirming baby, who was beginning to cry and pout after the fairy. “Honestly, why are you acting like that? I’ve got to return this baby before-”

“Return?” the fairy’s voice was grim suddenly, drawing the dragon’s attention back to it. “Those humans will hunt you for sure, dragon. Look at how small you are. You don’t stand a chance once they’ve seen you. They would kill for your beautiful scales. I’ve seen them chase after my family for their wings. Imagine what they’d do to you. You may be strong, but you are but one creature. Do not be foolish. Toss that thing into the river. Be done with it.”

With that, the fairy stood and fluttered off, no more bubbling laughter erupting from its little belly. The dragon stared down at the little baby, and her heart became heavy. The thought of throwing that baby into the water made the little dragon ill at ease, and she could not imagine why. Maybe it was because she had been alone for so long, and finally had the touch of another in her arms again. Maybe it was because the little pudgy brown thing made constant little sounds that drew the dragon’s attention back to reality. Maybe she had been disassociated for so long that she had not realized that her focus had not been on the real world for quite some time. It was nice, the constant little sounds from the little creature, keeping the dragon’s attention present.

The dragon helped the baby to drink at the water, although the baby seemed to know how to cup its little fat hands and scoop water into its mouth. The dragon watched the baby and smiled, cheering it on with words of encouragement. The fairy was right. There was no way the dragon could approach a clan of humans alone and return the baby. It did not feel right to return such an adorable sweet-smelling creature to those disgusting mud dwelling animals who wrestled each other to death out in the forest for sport. The dragon shook her head. “No, no, no. That won’t do. You’ve got...potential. You smell sweet enough to eat. But don’t worry, I'm all full. Let’s find you something...”

The dragon wondered into the forest to find sweet berries for the baby to eat. The baby devoured handfuls, yelling and laughing, getting berry juice around its face and within the creases of its sweet little neck. The dragon huffed out a laugh. She had not laughed in so many years that she was unsure of if the sound had even been a laugh, although it certainly was. “You are as sweet as a berry, and so that is what you shall be called. I’ll take care of you, Berry. I won’t let you end up as those two did. You’ll be safe with me. We will have our own clan.” And with that, a declaration of love and protection was set into place by the dragon.

The first few weeks were the most difficult. The dragon was unsure of how to carry the baby from one place to another, although the two could not stay in one place for long. It did not take much for a group of gnomes to notice the dragon struggling to pull a large leaf with the fat baby on it across the ground, her giant teeth ripping the leaf every so often, her irritated breaths of fire wafting through the woods and filling them with a harsh scent of irritation. The gnomes, for no other reason than pure interest, crafted a saddle and wrapped it snuggly around the dragon’s torso. The saddle held a small pouch to hold the baby, so that the two could travel together with ease. The dragon nodded her thanks to the gnomes and continued on her journey, only this time, she was not alone.

During a wash in the river, the little dragon realized that her baby Berry was a female. This must be the case, for she did not bare the regular male reproductive organs, although her female organs looked quite strange and too soft. “Ah,” the dragon huffed, sniffing at Berry as she toppled around in the shallow water that the silver dragon had warmed for their bath. “Just one more thing to protect! You are as soft as a Berry as well- that was a good name for you, indeed.”

When Berry began to walk, she began to run just as quickly. Berry could easily swing her way onto her silver dragon’s back, clutch at her scales, and hang tight as the dragon galloped over rocks and hard terrain. Berry’s thick curly unruly hair brought the silver dragon the most pleasure, and so every night, as the two lay down to sleep, the dragon tugged her large claws through the little curls until she drifted into slumber.

Berry grew to be bold and brave, and leapt from tree to tree, both guarding and leading the way for her little silver dragon mother. “Mother,” Berry would call from a high branch, pointing off into this direction or that, a mischievous smile glistening across her wideset mouth. That silver dragon would shake her heavy head at her daughter, and gallop to whatever goofy thing the child had found for them to wrestle in for the day. It was their eighth year together, and the two had yet to see another group of dragons. The silver dragon kept her Berry far from the mountains and from the smell of lava, for fear that the dragons would snatch up her little girl and carry her off to burn.

This thought was unwarranted of course. The dragons did not take to violence unless necessary. The silver dragon held her Berry close to her heart, for it was the most precious thing she had ever kept. There was no more silence, there was no more brooding, and there was no more forgetting how many days it had been. Berry had given the dragon the gift of life, some one hundred and thirty years into living. The only dragon in the world who had never had a treasure to guard, finally had one- and it was a sweet little Berry.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, and the months into years, and as time is wont to do, it aged Berry. Berry grew into a large long-legged human, gliding in and out of camouflage with an ease that was as entertaining to the little silver dragon as the smile of her chubby baby face had been. Berry swung from vines and into lakes, and chatted with the fairy-folk, and braided the gnome's hair, and whispered jokes to the centaurs, and brought her mother’s name to a place of peace. The forest knew of the silver dragon and her brown companion, known fondly as Berry. The two did not hide, or run, or scavenge. They traveled from circle to circle, exchanging knowledge and tales of their travels, as the little silver dragon was always meant to do.

When the conversation would arise of Berry returning to her own kind to become a mother of her own, the young woman would scrunch her nose and furrow her brows at her mother. “Could you imagine me caring for a little mud creature? I’d drown it in a river!” Berry would shout, only because it made her mother laugh tremendously, and although she was unsure why, she liked the sound of that particular laugh. The little silver dragon wanted her Berry to be happy, and with her mother, Berry was the happiest. This was enough for the both of them.

When the dragons high on the mountains heard of the traveling duo, they ventured down to meet this strange pair, and greeted them with bowed heads of curiosity and kindness. The silver dragon hid her Berry behind her back and rose her rigid shoulders at them threateningly. Berry placed a calming hand onto her mother's shoulder, and strode from behind her, any trace of fear in the air belonging only to the little silver dragon. “I hear from my mother that you are all full of knowledge and tales. We have some of our own, if you would like to hear them,” Berry proclaimed, swaying in the wind as naturally as the leaves of the trees. The dragons, startled, began to roar with laughter and excitement. The night that Berry met the large dragons, the forest was buzzing with life, sitting around their large fires and listening to the tales that they had only heard about from other travelers throughout the years.

Life went on this way. Berry and the little dragon went from one end of the earth the other, somehow avoiding the humans, somehow avoiding sadness, and steadfastly chasing their own happiness with one another. The love between the two was palpable, and many creatures could recall getting close enough to taste the feeling of it in the air. The magic created by this love doused the flowers and the trees, and pulsated throughout the forests and the mountains. This era would be known as The Rein of Berry throughout the world of mystical creatures, who would not let their children forget that sweet taste that the pair left behind them wherever they would visit.

After ninety long years together, Berry curled up next to her mother and stroked her glistening scales. The night air cascaded around the two, and the sound of the mountain carried both their thoughts through the air. “Mother,” Berry whispered, placing her palm against her mother’s side. The little dragon smiled, thinking how she would never tire of hearing her Berry’s sweet little voice. “Yes, child?”

“Mother, I think I shall die here. In this cave with you. And I think that you should know, that you and I must have been meant to be. The way we found each other was not a mistake. There must be a way of things in this world, and we found it with one another. That is for certain. My soul will miss you, mother. But I must make you a promise...” Berry sat upright and placed both hands firmly against her mother’s side, who listened in rigid silence.

Berry inhaled, and huffed out a large colorful breath. Her breath seeped into the air in clouds of purple, pink, and delicate white. The puff of breath floated into the little dragon’s nostrils, who inhaled the scent thankfully. The smell was of the little baby’s neck, the child’s dirty hands reaching after a fall, the teen’s salty tears after a bitter loss with a fairy at a game in the forest, the woman’s laughter after a distasteful joke from a river nymph. The dragon felt intoxicated, and closed her eyes. “I have given you, my soul. I have given you, my life. You have given me so much, and I fear I cannot return it to you as I am now. When you leave this earth, and you return back to the mud, I will not be far. You must find me again, mother.” And with that, Berry closed her eyes and died.

The forest spoke of this moment, and changed the story, and rearranged the words so many times that it became nothing more than a story. The little dragon returned to her lone gallop through the woods and underbrush, as she had before. The creatures told this tale again and again, and said that this was the beginning of a soul mate. The little silver dragon would have her treasure again and again, and the treasure would have her. There could be no breaking of that delectable bond. No one believed it, of course. This was just a myth, a story to tell young ones before bed, to fill their heads with colors of purple, and pink, and white.

One day, in the forest, the mythical creatures could smell the sweet smell, that indistinguishable smell of the little dragon and Berry. And all at once they knew that somewhere on earth, the two had found each other again. And every few hundred years, the smell would return to them. Somehow, no one ever forgot that smell, even though they forgot what it meant long ago. The days turned to weeks, the weeks turned to months, the months to years, and so on and so on. And time, as it is wont to do, aged those two souls into the mud and earth, where they remained.