“My neck itches can you scratch it?” These sheep that both are and aren’t sheep are demanding.

“Ooh if he’s getting a scratch, I want one too, my ears been killing me and the fence poll just isn’t cutting it”. I know I was bored but this may have been a bad decision. Once they start its hard to stop them.

“Honestly stomach rub would be fantastic, that patch of grass really isn’t sitting pretty and gentle massage is just what the physician ordered”. Father said they were conjured sheep, nature spirits summoned from another plane and given the form of a sheep. Apparently, father is trying breed them which he said is “theoretically impossible” but he’s still trying to do it. Weird.

“Hey, wanna play, hey wanna play, hey wanna play, hey, hey” Why? Who wants more these annoying creatures?

“How about a chin scratch, surly that’s not too much to ask for right”? The fae like them to apparently. Being creatures of a similar nature, they seem to get along. I wonder if being the stuff that dogs are made of has do anything to do with it. Another question for mother.

“Ooooh yeah that’s the good stuff, little hig oooooh” They seem to shut up when I indulge them. I trail my claws between the ears of two back and forth, coil my tail around the waist of another slowly contracting and releasing it. I lock ‘horns’ with the young one in front me, pushing back and forth in a ‘contest’ of strength. Apparently a ’contest’ is something I could win but shouldn’t due to how easy it is for my draconic self therefore going ‘easy on my opponent’ is a requirement for me to participate in these ‘contests’.

Father had to explain this to me after the lead Ram ‘challenged’ me. Wait I not using that word right, it wasn’t difficult. Hmm maybe ‘opposed’ me works better. The Ram opposed me? Sounds about right though thinking about it needs more ‘flair’ now.

More drama required. I like drama.

Everything becomes more fun when dramas included.

The Ram uselessly opposed me? The Ram haphazardly opposed me? Hmm no not quiet right. Why does language got to be so easy to use but so hard to master? It’s a task I barely dare to undertake with my superior capabilities.

Oh ‘dare’, ‘dared’. That kinda works.

The Ram dared to oppose me? Wait no “The Ram DARED to oppose me”. It obviously couldn’t to see the magnificence before it. It had eyes but could not see.

HA! That sounded wise and had a nice dramatic ring to it, I’ll have to use that more often.

What was I thinking about again?

Right, when the Ram ‘DARED’ to oppose me, trying to push me out of its pen I discovered that despite having the same fluff of a dog covering the majority of their body their insides are much different. Apparently blood and guts are a thing. I’ll stick to dogs from now on. The mess they make is a lot more fun to play in.

Father was a little angry, not as scary as mum but best not to make it a habit.

Dragons are terrifying when mad who knew?

Father had to resummon the spirit but apparently the damage I wrought to the not-ram isn’t so easy to fix resulting in the now exhausted ‘lamb’ with a thing for ‘butting’ heads with me. I win every time, but the same ‘opposition’ is boring after the fifth or so round transforming into the annoying daily chore that it now is. I’ve got to keep ‘playing’ with it until it recovers in a week or two and it regains its original size along with the ‘appropriate mental capabilities’.

Whatever that means? Where’s father? I have more questions.

Wonder if I could get him to answer the whole ‘what’s magic question’? He said to wait and be patient, that I’ll know when its time to start studying magic. I argued that I know that I know I want to learn magic therefore it is time to do so.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Father just smiled and said “Ah but did you know that I knew that you didn’t know you knew that you know you probably can’t know what you should know without being shown therefore if you had known what was knew before you knew that your mother said no and that mother knows best.”

I’m confused. I also feel like the word ‘know’ has lost meaning. Weird and mildly annoying.

Its official, fathers’ part fae as well. I have a fae father. A Faether? Ooh word play.

Probably shouldn’t call ‘faether’ annoying though, he might summon more not-sheep. Fours my limit. I tried playing with more, but I got buried. I slept well but it was hard to get out without killing them all, ended up asking them to get off, they became very talkative and demanding after that. At least I’ll get to complain again soon. Wait who do I complain to this time? Mum’s still mad at me. Not sure why. That hole in the roof was there before hand. I just made it big enough for me to fit through, I need a route to fly in and out of the house for after all.

How else am I meant to chase the fae finch if it comes back? Just need to be able to fly now.

Can’t complain to father about faether. Seem pointless and more likely increase the amount of annoyance and confusion I have with him.

Should really track those neighbours down. I need a new dog and someone new to complain to. Maybe a should go out and find them. I haven’t really explored My territory yet. Wait don’t the neighbours live nearby. Isn’t that what makes them neighbours? Are they living in MY territory, without MY permission? WITHOUT so much as an introduction to my superior draconic self.

Is this a challenge, a proper challenge?

No. Defiance. An insult. An insult to what?

MY PRIDE.

I now know anger, it makes me mad. Let’s find out if I’m terrifying.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

“Sigh”

‘How did he even get up there. His forge chitin should still be two heavy for him to be so overly mobile. No holes in the wall so he didn’t climb up. Wyrmling’s don’t lack claws but I’m starting to wish they did. My furniture won’t last with the way things are going. No, the house probably won’t survive the wraith of my child’.

Brushing a stray strand of metallic grey hair out of my eyes, fitting it back behind my ears, viewing it from myself through the additional senses obtained from the Fold, checking for improper or inefficient movements in the action.

Grace and poise the foundation of this mundane life.

Her son was making hard to maintain such standards.

Reaching into the Weave she pulled at its strands, bringing its focus back to the hole, wooden slates of the roof edge visible through exit of Andaz’s near explosive exit through the framework of the house at the sign of a small bird. Drawing on her own line of power it hummed inaudible to mundane senses, resonating with ‘Before’ and ‘Material’ threads. Ringing within her own mind the two conceptual strings of the Weave were meshed and knotted with a thought, wrapped and transformed into ‘Reconstruction’ under the weight of her own soul.

A bundle made, spell work achieved. She let go of her own line of power, letting her effort unravel around the space of her damaged home. Cracks reseeding, woodwork realigning, pieces that had fallen far soaring back into position and setting themselves in place. The Weave altering itself to show and record of the changes made.

A ‘brand new’ house. The signs of the few short years of occupation and weather of the area vanishing within the span of a few short moments.

Checking the spot of the previous hole for imperfections, no wrapping, no gnarled points or frayed outlines. For something damaged by a dragon, even for one so young, it repairs with remarkable ease.

Concerning.

Growing amount of worry.

Simple and easy are things she has begun to disassociate with Andaz.

Even her current husband is starting to bang his head on the walls. How do you even scare a spiritual entity? One that even has proclivity for change and growth. One that can reconstitute its form to top condition if given the chance to rest.

The fact that its currently a sheep doesn’t change any of that.

The headache is back.

“Sigh”.

‘I wonder what he’s doing now’.

Expanding her senses, reaching past the walls of her home. Branches of her awareness scouring the countryside for her son. Feeling him try to take flight.

Failing. Falling. Inventing the first draconic headstand, Impressive?

Certainly cute.

Now he’s running off somewhere. Can’t have that.

The tether formed through the weave tightened with a touch of her will. Affirming her connection to her child and connecting the distance between them. She reached out, hand poised and confident as she grabbed something not yet there. The space rippling within her hold then yanked and lifted her struggling, confused son as he swung by his tail. Releasing an indignant squawk escaping as he fruitless flailed in her grip.

Resigning himself he stops struggling and fixes her with a questioning glare.

“Is it time to learn magic yet”?

Her headache throbs.

“No”. The only revenge she could muster against her month and half old son.