The cave you chose was quiet—tucked into the mountainside, far from villages and hunting parties. You’d carved a home from stone and ash, lined the walls with treasures from old raids, and learned to sleep peacefully beneath the warm hum of your own fire. It wasn’t much, but it was safe.

Until one morning, the wind shifted.

A new scent laced the air—ancient and powerful, threaded with smoke and iron. It circled closer each day, testing the edges of your territory. You felt it even in your bones: another dragon. Male, scales a steely grey that caught the sunlight like sharpened steel.

He never landed near the entrance, never roared a challenge. Instead, he began leaving things at the edge of the clearing—a freshly killed stag, a heap of gleaming gemstones, a length of silk that smelled faintly of rain. Peace offerings, perhaps. Or courtship gifts.

You’d been wary at first, watching from the shadows of your cave. But one dawn, as he swooped low to drop another treasure, a tiny sound broke the stillness—a curious chirp.

Your hatchling had toddled to the cave’s mouth, blinking up at the great steely dragon hovering above. He froze midair, eyes wide and molten with surprise. For a heartbeat, he forgot to even flap his wings.

A mother, his mind whispered. And suddenly, every gift, every gentle gesture felt far more delicate than before.