The Foundling

The Foundling

A very short story

Some dragons, have the ability to change their shape, or rather create a pocket dimension inside of a human skin. A few of the older dragons can grow a human skin based on their long experiences with the species, some can create human dolls that they can see and act through while retaining their original shape. However, the youngest dragons can achieve the result by animating a corpse or stealing its skin if they have learned either art from one of their caretakers. In rare cases, a young unlearned dragon may achieve the result by stealing the mind of an impressionable human being. However, the dragon may then forget that it is a dragon and believe itself to be human as their true body hibernates.

Note: Written in two hours and unrefined but comments and critique are still welcome.


Related Pieces: The Oldest Egg

My first memory was standing, shivering, outside the village gate as snow fell softly around me. The sky was darkening when one of the young men , barely more than a boy, in the watchtower spotted me. I did not know how long I had been standing there or how long I would have stood there if the village had not had such a good harvest the season prior. As it was, one of the woman had recently lost a child to the hungry beasts of the wood and as she could not bear more, she saw it as her duty to raise a child that had escaped the fate her own had suffered. "What the gods take, they may return," she would say to me when I asked why she had taken me in.

My mother tried to teach me fine crafts for she was a woman of great standing in the village. I was rather interested but never managed much skill for I was always distracted by the call of the wood. At first, it was difficult to sneak past the guards as they were clever and well trained in the detection of the slightest unusual sound. However, time and patience turned the task from an exhilarating feat into a well-practiced motion. If the guards always began to tire before I did, I assumed it was because I was younger and better rested. My mother never questioned the appearance of game in the kitchens but she did look at me with eyes that hung heavy and grave with knowledge hidden to me.

I didn't notice it until much later in my life but no one ever forced me to take up feminine work or barred me from going where I pleased during the day. At the time, I assumed that any privileges granted to me were due to my mother's station but later I realized that they must have suspected the truth or in the case of my mother known it.

Those close to my age though, had no fear of me. The girls turned their noses up when I was around and the boys said lewd things when they thought I could not hear. It didn't occur to me that perhaps I ought to have been unable to hear them. If their older siblings felt the same, they were much more reserved in my presence and I could not guess at their thoughts.

Soon enough, I grew into a young woman of marrying age. I had plenty suitors and plenty of ways to scare them off. I might have died a lonely old woman if not for the persistence of one of my older brother's close friends. He was relentless and ready to brave anything I could throw at him. He was a great hunter and my attempts to lose him in the woods were ineffective. He did, however, compliment me on my ability to hide my trail. Shortly after that I conceded to marrying him. I reasoned that I would not be able to be rid of him anyways, that he was an agreeable match, and that my parents would approve.

We had three children and rose to high standing in the village. As I was the only daughter, adopted or not, I inherited my mother's position. I had my third child at the end of my child-bearing years, a girl. I regret that I did not survive her birth to raise her but I did my best.

Death, was an unexpected experience for me. I had expected the spirit world or reincarnation. I had not expected to wake up beneath a lifetime's worth of growth and struggled fiercely with weakened limbs to free myself from it to no avail. Frustration made me want to scream and I did, or I tried to, what resulted was a stream of uncontrolled flame that at least succeeded in freeing me from my green prickly prison. Unfortunately, it also started a forest fire that I took upon myself to put out. By the end of it, my purple scales were covered in a fine layer of soot around my face and caked in it everywhere else. I had also become distinctly aware after using my body to suffocate the flames that I was indeed a mythical creature that no one had ever seen and that I was about the size of two horses. I was surprised at how unmoved I was by the knowledge, as if I had know it all along.

Memories of my dragon life came back to me at the oddest times and I was finally able to piece together that my name was Monarch and that this was given to me when I had gained sufficient importance in my clan to be talked about. Dragons apparently, don't bother to give names to anything they don't talk about. My name, I recalled was given to me for my coloring and intelligence rather than my station. I was born late in my brood and this meant that in earlier more barbaric times my older siblings might have eaten me before I hatched. Because our clan was more civilized, we assigned station based on birth and brood order. I thought it unfair but being subservient was much more appealing than being breakfast.

While I waited for my dragon life to come back to me, I watched my human family grow and change. I had recalled enough of my dragon teachings to hide myself from human eyes. That, definitely explained why I slept unnoticed for forty years so close to my human home.

My favorite perch was atop the watchtower and from there I watched the comings and goings of my youngest daughter. I had before only considered that my children would inherit my human traits, such as my unusually dark hair and blue eyes. After watching my daughter take up my old habits, I began to wonder how much dragon was in her. I decided then that I would stay long past the return of my memories. This was partly because of my dragon curiosity, a trait we share with some humans, and partly because I was worried at the possibility that my children were changed enough to breathe fire and I didn't want to return only to find ashes where the village had been.

Nothing in my memories gave me reason to fear that all was not well in the high mountains where I was raised before running off to have an adventure. As such, I saw no great urgency to return and it wouldn't be until a human army came to the doors of my beloved human home many centuries later that I would begin to suspect.