It was clear within five minutes that the little pink dragon had no concept of personal boundaries. Catty found this out when he managed to wedge himself inside her shoe, staring up with the sort of wide-eyed innocence—if innocence could sneeze embers and set her pantyhose ablaze.
"Right," the girl said, lifting the shoe with a resigned sigh. "Day one, and you're already fooling around."
When Catty carried the little pink dragon up the creaky stairs to the attic room, his tiny claws clutched at her sleeve with the determination of someone who had no intention of heading out anytime soon. The room welcomed her with the familiar scents of sage and lavender, beams of moonlight filtering through the small window and casting soft patterns on the wooden floor.
Catty sat him down on her bed and surveyed the space. It wasn't much—a wardrobe, a table with a chair, and a washstand—but tonight, it felt even smaller, as if the dragon's presence had already begun to reshape it.
"Okay," the girl muttered to herself, hands on hips. "You need a bed. A proper dragon bed. Or at least… something close."
The dragon baby yawned in response, his small pink wings flapping lazily, and Catty couldn't help but chuckle.
She rummaged around the room, pulling out an old quilt, a few stray cushions, and an empty crate she found under the bed. After a few moments of rearranging and fluffing, Catty stepped back, surveying her creation. It wasn't perfect, but it would do.
"There! Your very own bed," she said with a sense of accomplishment, pointing proudly at the makeshift nest of fabric. "Well, get too comfy, but remember, this isn't a vacation."
The dragon blinked, tilted his head, and wriggled off the bed, padding toward the wardrobe instead. His claws made tiny clicking noises on the wooden floor as he sniffed at everything in his path—her books, the lantern, her underwear drawer.
"Hey!" Catty said, scooping him up just as he attempted to settle down among the folded panties like it was a luxury suite. "No exploring just yet."
The dragon sneezed suddenly, a tiny spark shooting out of his nostrils and landing squarely on her pajamas. Both of them froze for a moment, watching as the fabric smoldered.
"Oh no, no, no..." Catty scrambled to pat it out with her hands. "What even is this? A fire fever?"
The dragon, oblivious to the near disaster, gave a satisfied chirp as if he had just performed a great feat. Catty glared at him.
"Trouble. That's what you are. Pure, pink trouble."
This time, she placed him back on the makeshift bed with a stern look. "Stay," she commanded, pointing a finger at him. "Stay here. No fires, no escapades. And don't go through my things!"
The dragon blinked, gave her what she could have sworn was a mischievous grin, and curled up in the quilt. For a moment, peace returned to the room. Catty exhaled, feeling a flicker of relief.
Then, just as she turned toward her bed, a faint sizzling sound reached her ears. She spun around to see a tiny wisp of smoke rising from the edge of the quilt where the dragon had burrowed.
"Ugh!" she groaned, grabbing the corner of the fabric before it could fully ignite. "And we're just getting started!"
The dragon chirped again, utterly unbothered, and snuggled deeper into his nest. Catty sat cross-legged on the floor, rubbing her temples.
"Well," she muttered, "at least you're cute."
The first night was restless.
Catty stirred from sleep just as the first rays of sunlight peeked through the attic window, casting dappled light on the wooden floor. She felt groggy—the kind of tired that comes from dreaming you're awake the entire night—except the girl really was awake for most of it, thanks to a certain fire-hazard-in-training.
A soft tug at her sleeve brought her back to reality. Blinking the sleep away, Catty looked down to see two wide, gleaming eyes staring up at her. The pink dragon was perched on her arm, his tiny claws gripping her pajama sleeve like it was his lifeline.
Catty groaned, rubbing her face, "Good morning, naughty boy. What now?"
The dragon responded with an urgent chirp, his wings flapping as if trying to tell her something. Then, to make his point even clearer, he bit down lightly on her pajama sleeve.
"Ow! Hey—hey! Not a chew toy!" Catty yanked her arm back, but the dragon persisted, gnawing stubbornly at her sleeve.
"Alright, alright, you're hungry. I get it!" She sat up, brushing tangled hair from her face. The dragon froze in her lap, looking at her expectantly, his gaze fixed on the bracelet around her wrist, which glimmered in the morning light.
Catty narrowed her eyes, "Oh no. No way. You're not chewing on that, either."
The dragon let out a tiny growl—adorably fierce—and nudged her wrist insistently. A strange warmth spread through her when Catty touched the bracelet. As soon as she did, the glow brightened, and the girl felt a subtle pull—a connection sparking between her and the little creature.
"You need my mana, don't you?" she whispered. It felt ridiculous, but the dragon chirped in agreement, his eyes locked onto hers as if to say, Finally! She gets it.
Taking a deep breath, Catty closed her eyes and focused on the bracelet. A live pulse of energy flowed through it, and she felt it drain into the dragon—a strange but not unpleasant sensation, like pouring a bit of herself into him.
The dragon sighed, his wings settling comfortably against his sides. For a moment, Catty swore he looked as satisfied as a kid with a tub of ice cream.
"Happy now?" There was a smile on her lips.
The dragon curled up in her lap, purring softly—yes, apparently dragons could purr—and nuzzled against her hand.
Catty tilted her head, watching him. "You really are a weird little guy!"
Just as she started to relax, the dragon's wings twitched, and he perked up, sniffing the air. Before Catty could react, he darted off her lap and latched onto one of her shoes.
"Seriously?" Catty exclaimed, scrambling after him. "Not the shoes, man! I need those!"
The dragon gnawed at the shoe with enthusiasm as if it were his loot. Catty lunged forward, prying the shoe out of his tiny jaws.
He blinked up at her, sulking. A faint spark fizzled from his nostrils as if to say, You're no fun.
Catty crossed her arms, "Don't give me that look. I let you nibble on my sleeve, remember? That's where I draw the line."
The dragon huffed and flopped onto the floor dramatically, wings splayed out like a toddler mid-tantrum. Catty couldn't help but laugh.
"Oh, great. Now you're pouting?" she teased, crouching beside him. "Bold move for a guy who's known me for a night."
In response, the dragon emitted a tiny, pitiful chirp and gave her the saddest, most heart-melting look he could muster. Catty narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
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"You're going to keep me on my toes, I can feel it."
The dragon wiggled his tail in response, clearly unbothered by the accusation.
A realization hit her as Catty sat back on her heels, watching the little creature stretch and preen himself. He wasn't just a pet or a burden—he was someone she was already starting to care about. The bond between them felt real, alive, and oddly comforting, even amidst the chaos.
And for the first time in a long while, Catty felt something close to hope.
"Alright, buddy," she said, gently poking his side. "Breakfast is over. Let's try not to destroy the place before lunch, okay?"
The dragon chirped happily, clearly ready for whatever adventures the day would bring.
Catty sighed, "This is going to be a long day!"
It took a week before the little pink dragon settled into the house. Or perhaps, Catty mused, the house had started to settle around him. Wherever the dragon went, chaos followed, as if the entire place was adjusting to fit its newest—and rowdiest—resident. And today, it was the kitchen's turn to fall under his spell.
The morning sun streamed through the windows as Catty trudged into the kitchen, hoping for a quiet moment with a mug of tea. What she found instead was the dragon perched on the edge of a wooden bowl, sniffing curiously at a loaf of bread.
"Don't even think about it," Catty warned, pointing a spoon at him like it was a sword.
The dragon blinked at her with wide, innocent eyes—just before sinking his teeth into the loaf.
"Oh, come on!" Catty groaned, rushing forward to wrestle the bread from his tiny jaws. The loaf tore in half, and the dragon let out a triumphant chirp, crumbs clinging to his snout.
She sighed. "You're impossible, you know that?"
Undeterred, the dragon fluttered onto the counter, his claws clicking against the wood. He poked his nose into a jar of flour, sending up a white cloud that coated him from snout to tail.
"Really?" Catty muttered, brushing flour off his scales. "You're a disaster on tiny paws."
The dragon sneezed again—right into a pot of porridge simmering on the stove. To Catty's horror, the sneeze wasn't just air; it came with a spark.
Fwoosh!
The pot ignited, a small flame dancing cheerfully on the surface of the porridge.
"Are you kidding me?!" Catty yelped, grabbing a damp cloth to smother the fire. "What even is this? Breakfast or a campfire?"
The dragon tilted his head, utterly unbothered by the culinary catastrophe he had created. In fact, he looked rather pleased with himself.
With the fire extinguished, Catty leaned against the counter, rubbing her temples. "How are you this cute and this much trouble?"
The dragon chirped and flapped his wings, sending a puff of flour into the air again.
Catty stared at him, then at the flour-coated counter, the singed porridge, and the half-eaten bread. "Okay, that's it. I'm sticking to cold cereal from now on."
Apparently, the dragon took this as a challenge and lunged for a spoon resting nearby. Catty barely managed to snatch it away, holding it above her head like a prize in a game of keep-away.
"You," she said, wagging a finger at him, "are the reason people say, 'Don't play with your food.'"
The dragon gave a mischievous chirp and curled up inside the now-empty bread bowl with a surprising amount of grace as if it were the perfect nest. He peered up at her with a look that could only be described as smug.
Catty threw her hands in the air. "Fine! You win. But I swear, if you sneeze on anything else today, I'm banning you from the kitchen forever."
The dragon yawned, settling deeper into his makeshift bread-bowl bed. The sight was so comical that Catty couldn't help but laugh, her frustration melting away.
"Alright, troublemaker," she whispered, ruffling his flour-coated head. "Let's just try to survive the rest of the day without setting anything else on fire, okay?"
The dragon chirped softly, already halfway to sleep, leaving Catty to clean up the mess with a weary but affectionate grin.
Then it was the library's turn.
Catty barely entered the door before the dragon darted between her legs, his claws clicking excitedly against the floor. He braked sharply near a towering stack of books in the corner, which seemed to dare him with its height.
"Don't you dare..." Catty started, but it was already too late.
The dragon leaped—an impressive feat for his size—and latched onto the side of the stack with reckless enthusiasm. With a crash, the entire pile gave way, burying him in an avalanche of covers.
Catty shielded her head as the books tumbled around her. When the dust settled, the dragon sat triumphantly atop the heap, looking far too pleased.
"You just had to do it, didn't you?" Catty exclaimed, brushing the torn page off her shoulder.
The dragon responded by pouncing on one of the fallen books, gnawing at the corner like it was a particularly stubborn chew toy.
"Stop doing this!" Catty lunged to pry the book from his jaws, but before she could grab it, the book broke free with a panicked flap, it shot into the air, pages fluttering like wings.
Catty froze, watching in disbelief as the book soared around the room like a startled bird. A moment later, the rest of the fallen books followed suit—springing to life with terrified flaps and flying in every direction.
"Oh, come on!" Catty groaned, dodging a dictionary that buzzed past her ear.
The dragon, however, was having the time of his life. He leaped into the air, snapping playfully at the flying books, sending them into even more of a frenzy. One book dive-bombed him in retaliation, only to be met with his claws.
"Great," Catty muttered, ducking as a history textbook zoomed overhead. "Now they're fighting back."
The girl desperately grabbed a particularly fat novel, but it wiggled out of her grasp, flapping away like an annoyed pigeon. She plopped down on her seat.
"I did not sign up for this," she grumbled, narrowly avoiding a midair collision with an encyclopedia.
The dragon swatted at another book with his tail, sending it spinning into a bookshelf with a thunk. He gave an excited squeak, clearly proud of his handiwork.
Catty, meanwhile, scrambled to her feet, eyes scanning the chaos for a solution. "Okay, okay... think. How do you stop a book from flying?"
As if sensing her frustration, the dragon tilted his head, then pounced on a smaller book mid-flight, pinning it triumphantly under his paws. The book flapped helplessly for a moment before going still, its pages folding neatly shut.
Catty blinked. "Well... that's one way to do it."
She swatted a nearby magazine out of the air, sending it skidding across the floor. "Alright, teamwork! Let's round them up!"
Catty and the dragon were darting around the library, swatting and stacking the rogue books until the room was, more or less, under control.
Panting, Catty collapsed onto the floor, the dragon curling up beside her, looking far too pleased with their chaotic victory.
She laughed wearily, "You'll put me in an early grave."
The dragon nuzzled her hand affectionately, and despite the mess, Catty couldn't help but smile.
"Well," she sighed, glancing at the haphazardly stacked books. "At least we didn't set anything on fire this time."
The dragon gave a contented chirp as if to say, There's always next time.
Salvation came from the indoor garden.
Tired, frazzled, and on the brink of collapse, Catty flung open the greenhouse door. Without another word, she scooped up the dragon—who had just been gnawing on her favorite tank top—and tossed him inside.
"There. Enjoy nature," she muttered, slamming the door shut behind him.
The dragon blinked, adjusting to the new world around him. The air inside the greenhouse was thick with the scent of blooming flowers, exotic herbs, and strange, shimmering plants that glowed in the shade.
Just as the dragon started sniffing curiously at a vine, a tiny, fluttering figure zipped past his snout. Then another. And another.
Fairies.
They were tiny, bright, and mischievous—exactly the kind of creatures who can find endless amusement in a baby dragon. Before he could react, a trio of fairies swooped down, poking at his wings, tickling his nose, and tugging at his tail.
The dragon puffed up indignantly, wings flapping wildly in protest, but the fairies only giggled in delight, darting around him in a playful swarm.
Catty peeked through the glass door, arms crossed and a smirk creeping across her face, "Welcome to payback, little guy."
Inside, the dragon tried his best to keep up. He leaped into the air, snapping at the fluttering fairies, but they always stayed out of reach. When he tried to swat them with his tail, they danced gracefully around him, their laughter filling the air like the tinkling of bells.
The dragon growled in frustration, spinning in circles as they tugged at his wings and darted under his claws. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't catch one. The fairies were relentless, treating the little dragon like a new toy they couldn't put down.
Catty leaned her forehead against the door, watching with a growing satisfaction.
"Not so fun when someone else is running you ragged, huh?"
After fifteen minutes of frantic chasing, the dragon's energy began to wane. His wings drooped, and his tiny paws wobbled with exhaustion. With one last huff of breath, he flopped onto the soft mossy ground, completely spent.
The fairies circled him a few more times, giggling among themselves, before losing interest and flitting off to tend to their flowers.
Catty watched as the dragon let out a tiny yawn, curling up into a snug little ball right there in the moss. His sides rose and fell in the steady rhythm of sleep, and for once, he looked entirely at peace.
"Finally," she whispered, opening the door. The dragon didn't even stir.
Catty leaned against the doorframe, letting out a deep, contented sigh. "I should've thought of this hours ago."
As the sunlight filtered through the glass, casting soft patterns across the dragon's sleeping form, Catty allowed herself a rare moment of peace. Maybe, just maybe, this little pink troublemaker was going to be manageable after all.
At least until he woke up... but she was not destined to rest that day.
Knock, knock.
The sound echoed from the front door, sharp and unexpected. Catty froze.
Nobody ever knocked on Rutger's door. Not since...
She straightened up, suddenly wide awake, the sense of calm evaporating instantly.
Knock, knock.
This time, it was louder—insistent. Whoever was on the other side wasn't leaving anytime soon.
Catty cast one last glance at the sleeping dragon, curled peacefully in the moss. Then, with anxiety, the girl turned toward the door. Her pulse quickened as she stepped into the hallway.
And just like that, the peace shattered—leaving only the unknown waiting on the other side of the door.