The Golden Dragon's Hoard

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The baby dragon no longer questions if he's safe with them or not, he simply is.

"Come on, sunshine!" Oziamon cheers, laughing as he watches Stray flip mid-drift at a solid gust of wind.

Athanasius, from the porch, makes an unhappy noise but doesn't move to intervene as the hatchling calls out a growl saying he's okay and flits down to the witch's feet. He's picked up again, playing is the only time he's really okay with such cold hands wrapping around his ribs, before getting tossed into the air.

The little dragon gives a happy squeal, flapping his wings to boost himself even higher, steadily coming down in a circle even when the wind pushes at his side.

"Good job, mate!" Ras calls, laughing with the big dragon when Stray lands on their witch's head.

Oziamon grumbles, fake-annoyed the baby dragon knows, and throws him again.

-——-——-

Spring's nice, he has a firm but very short sort of trust with the coven, but it's warm enough outside now to make him nervous.

Spring is usually when he'd trade scales for skin and slip back onto two legs instead of four; usually when he could survive well as a boy instead of a monster.

His old catchers used to hurt him when he shifted forms without permission.

Athanasius did catch him, they have held him here without asking if they could (not that he'd leave if the offer came up), but the big dragon and his coven are not his catchers—not like the ones who came before them.

Stray wants to shift. He really, really wants to.

It's night, right now—not late enough to make him super tired but dark enough to give him the illusion of absolute safety—and his protector is the only one in the room.

The witch and Ras have left for the night, off to their own nests.

Atlas isn't asleep but he is in his dragon form, red scales gleaming in the candlelight and eyes closed. A rumble is in his chest, snout pressed into the baby's side as both of them purr, happy to be close to one another.

The little dragon would usually be asleep by now but he's itching to ask, to know the limits of their hospitality—if it is only for him when he's on four legs or if they'll treat him nicely on two as well.

Is it better to ask and get a no, or to do it and risk a punishment?

Back with his old catchers, he knows which he would take: neither. He wouldn't even consider it. He'd do nothing but what was asked of him, but what was told of him to do.

Escaping was... a one time act of disobedience.

Stray doesn't really remember why, why everything changed from being just what happened to too much. He just couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't take it anymore.

The cold room, the small cage, the ropes.

It was all too much, he couldn't just sit there, he had to leave, leave, leave—so he did.

The decision here is far different. If the baby dragon does it anyways, regardless of asking, then he risks getting hurt by people he never wants to be hurt by. If he asks and gets a no, then he finds out that the care he's receiving has conditions, rules.

But still—he doesn't think there'll be any pain.

Stray will give it one week, one week and then he'll change forms.

-——-——-

The first three days aren't too bad, they don't weigh him down, but by the fourth night he gets a little antsy.