As you were soaring over the ancient forests your land was covered in, you heard a cry. It was not the howl of a wolf, nor the rustling of a smaller creature. It was something human.

You landed and searched for the source of the noise, intrigued. At the edge of a clearing, nestled in the tall grass, you found a small child, no more than two years old, alone.

You had never dealt with humans, particularly not small, helpless ones. But something in the child’s wide, innocent eyes stirred something deep inside you. So you brought them to your cave.

Years passed, and the child, whom you affectionately named Smallbones, grew.

There were days when Smallbones would stare longingly at the skies, watching the dragons who flew overhead. They would ask you if they could one day learn to fly too, you had to let them down every time.