The Dragon, The Owlet, and the Lorebark

In a time beyond memory, on a cloudless day ‘neath a bright blue sky, a lone winged figure flies across a meadow of verdant green. A small forest of trees stands guard at the edge of the meadow. The great dragon beats his powerful wings and slowly descends toward the forest. He lands lightly despite his hulking mass and sharp talons tearing the earth asunder. The dragon folds his wings to his sides and enters the forest. The ancient trees tower over even him, allowing his lumbering frame to move easily through the foliage. The filtered sunlight plays across his iridescent scales, casting rainbows outward as he moves through the trees, carefully inspecting each one as he passes. Finally, in the heart of the forest, the dragon stops. While tracing patterns with his snout on the bark of an unremarkable tree, a breeze sweeps through the forest but only the tree at which the dragon stands is touched. The elliptical leaves dance gently in the wind, catching the sun’s rays and sending glittering beams of emerald light shining on the bark of the tree. On the transparent leaves, runes in a forgotten language shine and the raised edges of the bark sparkle and glow in the shimmering light. The dragon rakes his wizened, golden eyes over the lorebark tree, his rounded snout slowly breaking into a toothy smile. In a deep, gravelly voice he whispers, “At last.”

Hidden in the thick boughs of the enchanted tree, a nest lightly bounces in the wind. The breath of the dragon further tips the nest from its branch, sending the resident housed there careening toward the ground. Breaking its fall on the dragon’s nose, a little, white-faced owlet rapidly blinks its wide, round eyes and looks up at the massive face in front of her. The dragon huffs in surprise, his slitted eyes narrowing to see the feathery creature more clearly. It was not but a toddler, still a hatchling, too young to be on its own yet. Careful not to jostle his fragile, newly acquired passenger, the great dragon swings his head to scan for the owlet’s parents. They are nowhere to be found and the nest lay in tatters on the decaying leaves of the forest ground. Returning his gaze to the tiny creature still on his nose, he watches her rise unsteadily to her spindly legs and toddle up the length of his snout. She spreads her tawny wings across the space on his scaly face just above his snout and presses her head into the indentation there. The dragon chuckles, a deep rumble in the back of his throat, at her attempt at an embrace. Startled by the sound, the owlet jumps back slightly and gazes warily at the large serpent. Realizing she is in no danger, she ruffles her downy feathers and peeps at him. Chuckling again, the dragon gazes intently at the owlet, fascinated by the boldness and intelligence of such a tiny creature.

Deep in her big, brown eyes, the dragon detects a faint spark of magic. Looking from the destroyed nest on the ground to the high branches of the enchanted tree, careful again not to dislodge his guest, his eyes widen in understanding. The little owlet, having hatched in the branches of the enchanted tree, was imbued with a speck of the ancient and powerful magic that flows through the lorebark. Surely frightened by the unnaturalness of their offspring, her parents must have flown off in fear. Gazing back at the owlet, he watched her cock her head and peep questioningly. Smiling, he dips his head and jerks it upward slightly causing the owlet to jolt into the air. He quickly lets out a puff of air through his nostrils under her wings, keeping her afloat. Her instincts telling her to flap her wings, she manages to stay in the air. She looks at him gleefully and the dragon can see her smiling around her beak. The great dragon steps forward and walks further into the forest with the little owlet flying by his head, content to journey together while they await the fulfillment of the prophecy foretold in the runes of the lorebark tree.