The Dragon of Southwick

Delevar peered around the corner of the house again and sighed. "Never in thirteen years..." he muttered to himself, but he knew it was wishful thinking. It had happened in Smithfield and in Candlewick and... well, it happened a lot. He looked around the side of the house again.

Southwick was a small village, just a dozen houses along an old road, with a lawn in the center for livestock. Currently that livestock consisted of about a dozen sheep who were running back and forth across the lawn. The lawn had a luxurious growth of grass, clover, and heather that was only broken in a few places by small burnt out circles where the greenery still smoldered.

The source of this disturbances was a small dragon, about six inches tall and a foot long from the tip of his snout to his forked tail. As Delevar watched, the dragon gave a cry and leaped at one of the sheep. The dragon clung to its back and tried to secure a grip with his teeth, but the thick wool stymied his efforts. With a startled bleat, the sheep shock off the dragon and ran to the other side of the lawn. The dragon hit the ground with enough force to knock away his wind, but with the wind came a puff of flame and another smoldering section of greenery.

Delevar sighed again. He had gotten into the dragon slaying businnes for the glory, but nine jobs out of ten were clearing out a dragon the size of a pig and at least once a year you got a call like this. "Still," he thought, "they all pay the bills." The bills were certainly piling up, so Delevar drew his sword and strode purposefully toward the lawn.

Usually dragons this size stayed away from people. Dragon's were physically mature from the time they left the egg, but they wouldn't reach a size where they would be a threat to humans until they were at least two centuries old and they wouldn't get a human level intelligence for twice that long.

THIS dragon had apparently been caught in the woods by someone's cat. The cat had brought the dragon as a present to a pair of newly weds. The newly weds were less than pleased, especially since their new house was now a burnt shell.

"Maybe I can get this over quick."

Delevar lunged for the dragon, but the dragon skipped away at the last second and launched itself at another sheep. This dance continued for 30 minutes: Delevar chasing the dragon, who was chasing the sheep. Finally Delevar, out of breath, leaned against the fence and slid down to the ground. Dragon slaying was a job for the young, and maybe 35 was just too old. He laid his head back against the fence post and closed his eyes. He hadn't been there for much more than a minute when he heard a chirrup near his hand. The dragon had managed to pull loosed a mass of wool and mud and was tearing off chunks and swallowing them whole.

The dragon dropped a sizeable chunk by Delevar's hand and stared expectantly at him. It chirped again.

"What am I going to do with you?" Delevar sighed.