Ash's lungs burned as he pelted down Scoria Street, feet slapping against cracked pavement. The jeers of his pursuers faded behind him, but he didn't dare slow down. Not until he'd lost himself in the labyrinthine alleys of the Char District.

He careened around a corner and found himself facing a rusted chain-link fence. Beyond it lay an abandoned lot, a pocket of overgrown green amid the urban decay. Without hesitation, Ash scaled the fence, jagged metal biting into his palms.

He dropped to the other side, into a world forgotten by time.

The lot was a graveyard of urban detritus. A rusted jungle gym reduced to a skeleton of flaking scabs. Broken bottles were malevolent eyes in the fading light. Discarded paper flit across the uneven ground, propelled by a breeze that carried the sick-sweet scent of distant factories.

An old oak tree stood at the center of the lot, gnarled branches reaching towards the sky. At its base, greenery had taken root, as if nature was slowly reclaiming this forgotten corner of the city.

Ash slumped against what he thought was a particularly lush bush, his breath coming in ragged gasps. As his breathing slowed, he became aware of an odd sensation against his back. The bush seemed to be... moving. Shifting with a rhythm that felt disturbingly like breathing. A low rumble vibrated from the foliage, setting his teeth on edge.

Slowly, he turned his head.

An eye the size of a hubcap blinked open, inches from his face. Green as summer leaves, with a vertical pupil that contracted as it focused on him. The ‘bush’ unfurled, revealing a draconic head the size of a small car.

Ash's scream lodged in his throat as the creature's maw gaped open, revealing teeth like thorns and a tongue thick with crabgrass.

Heart pounding, Ash scrambled away, freezing as his eyes focused.. What he'd dismissed as overgrown vegetation resolved into impossible shapes. The "bushes" were alive with sinuous, reptilian forms. A tendril that might have been a tail twitched, sending motes of pollen into the air.

The entire lot was alive, teeming with creatures that shouldn't exist.

"Now, now, Briar. Is that any way to greet a guest?"

A man–tall and rail-thin, with eyes that glittered like amber–stepped out from behind a tangle of what might have been rosebushes, if rosebushes had leaf scales. 

"I do apologize," the man said. "Briar gets a bit tetchy around feeding time. You're not on the menu, of course."

Ash found his voice, though it came out a strangled whisper. "D-dragons?"

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"What else would you call them? Hedge lizards? Overgrown abominations? Ttopiary gone wild has a certain ring to it, I suppose."

He extended a hand. "I'm Rowan. Gardener, dragon-tender, and thorn in the side of every urban developer looking to gentrify."

Ash hesitated, then shook the offered hand. Rowan's skin was rough, like tree bark.

"I'm Ash," he said, his voice steadier now. "I was just... running. Didn't mean to intrude."

Rowan waved a dismissive hand. "Intrusion implies ownership. I'm merely a caretaker. The dragons, now, they might have opinions on trespassers. But they seem to like you."

As if on cue, Briar lowered its massive head, snuffling at Ash's hair. Its breath smelled of loam and wildflowers.

"How..." Ash swallowed hard. "How is this possible?"

Rowan's eyes twinkled. "The world's full of impossible things, lad. Most folks just don't bother to look."

He gestured towards his dragons. "These beauties, they're a bit of an accident. Or a miracle. Started with some seeds I found in a junk shop. Packet said 'snap dragons.' Didn't expect them to be quite so... literal."

Ash reached out tentatively, running his hand along Briar's leafy flank. The dragon rumbled contentedly.

"But why here?" Ash asked. "In the middle of... all this?" He waved vaguely at the surrounding urban blight.

Rowan's smile turned wistful. "Why not here? This part of the city, it's been... Forgotten. Left to rot. But there's life here, lad. Wild, stubborn life that refuses to be paved over or built upon."

He plucked something from a nearby vine - a fruit that pulsed with bioluminescence. "Besides, the soil here is... special. All sorts of things buried in it. Secrets and dreams and cast-off bits of wonder. The dragons feed on it. Grow from it."

Ash's eyes widened as Rowan sliced the fruit open. Inside, instead of seeds, there were tiny, perfect gears, ticking away.

A distant shout snapped Ash back to reality. His pursuers, closing in.

Rowan's expression hardened. "Ah. I take it those are the reason you were running?"

Ash nodded mutely.

Rowan sighed. "Well, can't have them stumbling in here. Delicate ecosystem and all that."

He whistled, a sound like wind through rushes. The dragons stirred, leaves rustling and vines creaking. The creatures moved with surprising grace, flowing over the fence like a wave of living foliage. Moments later, there were shouts of alarm and the pounding of retreating feet.

Rowan chuckled. "That ought to keep the riffraff out for a while. Now then, Ash. Fancy learning a bit about dragon-tending?"

Ash looked at Briar, who curled contentedly around him like a scaly, leafy cat. He thought about the drab apartment waiting for him, the school where he never quite fit in.

"Yeah," he said, grinning. "I think I'd like that."

Rowan nodded approvingly. "Good lad. We'll start you off easy. Pruning and fertilizing. Maybe work our way up to mist-breathing."

He turned to Briar and made a gentle clicking sound with his tongue. The dragon's chest expanded, and it released a soft exhalation. A fine, glittering mist sprayed from its mouth. Immediately, grass began to sprout from the soil. 

Though he didn’t understand it, Ash saw possibility. The subtle rhythm of renewal in places lost to people. 

He thought of cold water and green grass and fresh air. The smell of moss he’d never known and other old things the city had forgotten.