Elora and her Dragons

Elora was taking a walk in the woods, early in the morning as usual. She enjoyed taking in the beautiful scenery around her, the dawn’s light peeking through the trees to the small woodland animals that hid in their burrows at the sound of her nearing footsteps. She enjoyed the damp aroma of the dew settling on the plants and floor. She especially loved listening to the myriad of birds which existed in these woods.

She noticed that today, however, there were less animals today, compared to most days. Everything felt a bit too quiet. She couldn’t hear as many birds nor could she spy any small woodland creatures that would poke their heads curiously out of their hiding places.

There was even something that smelled a little off in the air. There was no familiar damp scent from the forest bed but...something burnt.

Elora deviated off her usual route down the downtrodden path that meandered around the larger trees of the woods. She followed the scent of burnt wood as the temperature in the air grew warmer and more humid.

Her breath hitched as she stumbled onto the scene of the crime. Her heart thudded against her ribcage as she beheld the sight of a large dragon, covered in green scales, sprawled out on a bed of trees, snapped in half from its weight.

It was breathing heavily and Elora accidentally slipped in a trail of blood that she had neglected to notice. She landed front first and tensed up.

Slowly, she looked up at the dragon and saw its dark eye look down at her. She swallowed, daring not to move.

The dragon let out a shaky growl that made Elora wince. It sounded as if it was on death’s doorstep.

It slowly raised its claw, revealing an egg that was half her size. It snorted, scattering leaves as it rolled it until it was pressed up against her side. It was hot against her but not enough to burn her thankfully.

Elora looked between the egg and the dragon before pushing herself to her feet. She slowly backed away and the dragon snorted again, pressing the egg against her leg.

They stared each other down. Elora slowly placed her hand on top of the large egg and the dragon pulled its claw back. Its eye closed and its breathing slowed down.

Elora took another look at the egg, carefully caressing the top like a mother would caress her child’s head. When she looked at the dragon again, her heart sank when she noticed its breathing had stopped altogether.

She jumped when the egg gave a little shudder. Perhaps it was best to get this back to her home and keep it warm.

Elora crouched and wrapped her arms around the egg. She heaved it and stumbled with its weight. She was surprised that she was able to lift it. It would be nothing short of a miracle for her to carry this back to her little hut.

With shaky steps, she made her way back onto the path and carried the dragon’s egg through the woods.

She arrived at the hut that was still in dire need of repair, not that anyone in the village would be willing to offer her aid. Such was the burden of the resident witch.

Elora only knew this simple way of life. Ever since she was found on the baker’s doorstep, she had been cast out, treated as a scapegoat. With no parents to shelter her, what else could she do but accept her role?

At least the village were merciful enough to teach her how to cook and clean for herself until she was eleven, when her first menstrual cycle indicated she had come of age. She was sent to live in this dismal hut at the edge of the village. She was to serve as the scapegoat, where everyone would blame their problems onto her.

The abuse had been frequent as of late, not that she was unable to put up with it. Being half elf had its perks.

Perhaps if she was a pureblooded human, she would have had a chance to be adopted and raised properly.

Thankfully, the villagers didn’t just come to her to give her a couple of lashes. Elora found her use in providing medicinal wares from what she found in the woods. A last resort for the villagers, of course, however her medicine was effective. Maybe that’s why she’s still alive.

Either that, or the village would rather not choose one of their own to fulfill this role.

Elora let out a sigh of relief as she set the egg on her bed carefully, grabbing the extra blanket in the corner to cover it. She had a feeling this wouldn’t suffice for a dragon egg, so she rushed to clean her fireplace and set it ablaze.

Once the fire was roaring away to her liking, she lifted the egg back up and steadily placed it by the hearth. She grabbed other blankets and pillows to keep it upright, eggs were meant to be kept upright, correct? Or are dragon eggs different? Either way, she should be careful it didn’t fall over and crack.

Elora sat by her table and stared at it with a thoughtful expression. How was she meant to hide this from any visitors that dared to call upon her? It wasn’t like they scheduled their visits around her daily routine. And how would they react when seeing this egg? It would either be used to feed the hungry or destroyed out of fear for the unknown.

Elora reach up to fiddle with her pointed ears idly. She didn’t even know the first thing about taking care of dragons. In fact, she had believed them to be extinct because of the overhunting. No doubt that there were ex dragon hunters that resided in the village, out of work because there were no more marks left to pursue.

Elora sighed softly. What has she gotten herself into now?