Razortail hated his life.

He was the disappointment of the family. He had no tail barb, no diamond-hard scales, no venom in his teeth or claws, and no freezfire. His only normal BloodDragon abilities were his sharp wings and talons.

His family hadn’t thought he was good enough. You’re not a true BloodDragon, his father had snarled. You’re a disappointing worm with no brains and no skills! Razortail knew it was true, but that only made it harder to accept.

So he had moved out at the age of ten and built himself a shack. It was shabby and falling apart, but it had served as his home for five long years.

He had learned to be an assassin. It wasn’t the best job on Terrarestria, and the StealthDragons were far better at it, but he had survived, and that was all that matters. He had risen to the top ranks, and had the most important tasks among the assassin clan.

But, just when he thought he might actually be doing good in life, he found a living, well-feared legend among the BloodDragons hiding in the trees, watching him. Razortail had caught her, of course. Being an assassin had its merits, like the ability to be fast and ready to strike at all times.

But now he had a myth in his ruinous shack.

And he had no idea what to do with her.

The green dragon lay unconscious on a bed of leaves that he had made. Not that he cared about her, he reassured himself. It just seemed slightly cruel to leave her lying on the tough ground.

Her entire body build was extremely elegant. The way her snout curved upwards slightly, the smooth bend of her horns, the arch in her back. Her wings were small and slender. Her tail was long and graceful.

She slept in a really cute way, with her tail resting on top of her snout and her body curled into a ball with her wings tucked tightly against her. Even the way she breathed was cute.

I am NOT admiring a supposedly-does-not-exist-ForestDragon. I am merely STATING FACTS, Razortail thought aggressively at himself.

He didn’t want her to escape, though, so he grabbed a small metal chain and slipped it around her neck, holding it in his claws. He could not stop watching her. He knew that, despite what his brain was telling him, he would keep her. She was his now.

Sunlight pierced through the many holes in the roof of Razortail’s shack, tucked in a secluded corner of the Jungleswamp. He edged away from it slightly, not wanting it to illuminate his weird scale patches. Dragonets always made fun of his weird color.

He turned his eyes towards the green dragon again and took in a breath. The sunlight revealed hints of gold on each white-green scale that he had never seen before. Her mint-green underbelly now had little lighter green specks on it. Her pale green wings seemed to glow. He tried to look away, but the dragon’s beauty was mesmerizing. Were all ForestDragons like that?

Nobody’s watching, he told himself. You can OBSERVE her all you want. Not admire. OBSERVE.

The dragon suddenly blinked and stretched, exhaling softly. She opened her eyes and saw Razortail, then turned invisible as if by reflex. Razortail was glad he had put on the chain, or he wouldn’t have been able to catch her if she flew off. He had only realized she was there in the clearing because he had smelled something distinct on her. Whatever it had been, it was gone now.

The ForestDragon turned un-invisible and jumped to her feet, beaming at Razortail. It was the same reaction he had gotten when he had first capture her. Why had she smiled at him? Not whimpered. Not bared her teeth. Smiled.

“Um…hello.” The ForestDragon seemed a little bit shy. She fidgeted nervously with one of the many pouches on her arms. There were other ones on her back legs, too. Razortail wondered how they turned invisible along with her.

“Hello.” Razortail sat on his haunches and raised an eyebrow at her. “Care to explain who and what you are and what you were doing watching me?”

“Not really,” the ForestDragon replied. The blunt truth made Razortail blink twice before the information really settled in his brain.

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“Well, too bad,” Razortail growled. He yanked on the chain slightly. “You’re my prisoner now. I have you at my command.”

“Well…” The ForestDragon quailed under his expression. “ Fine. I’ve kind of been watching you for a few years…”

“Excuse me?”

“Like, in the bushes. Watching you. I know, I’m a creep,” she blurted, “but you were the first BloodDragon I had ever seen and you were fascinating and I was kind of obsessed but I was too shy to say hello and I know it’s dumb but you’re not supposed to know that I exist and I kind of messed up and I have a million pictures of you.” She grinned nervously. “Sorry, Patches.”

Razortail paused. “Patches?”

“That’s…the nickname. I gave you. I know, it sucks but I really needed something to call you and you have a really cool scale pattern so I named you after it, sorry oh and can I get your real name please?”

Razortail rethought his original draft of her personality. Apparently she was not shy at all. Then he registered that she had called his scales “cool” when none of the other dragonets had. Then he realized that, even though she didn’t really show it, she was terrified of him. He wondered why.

“Your name first,” Razortail said.

“Lotus,” the ForestDragon replied immediately, as though if she spoke quickly and satisfied his demands, he would let her go.

“Razortail,” he said, then instantly reprimanded himself for opening up to this quirky dragon.

Lotus brightened and shook his claw. “Pleasure to meet you!” She paused. “So…am I, like, your prisoner or snack or what?”

Razortail regarded her for a moment. “You’re my pet,” he decided. “Although I wouldn’t say no to a snack, you’re the only ForestDragon I’ve ever met. You’re living proof that they exist. Normally, I would eat you and be done with it. Just don’t annoy me.”

Lotus blanched. “Okay, but…pet?” She asked disgruntledly, fiddling with her pouches again.

Razortail kept his face straight. “Yes, pet. You can’t go anywhere without my permission. You do what I say, when I say it. You ask no questions. And you don’t interact with anybody. Got it?”

“Got it,” Lotus said, sighing through her nostrils. “What are you going to do now?”

“I have a job,” Razortail replied. “And I don’t want you getting away, so I’ll keep you at my side, invisible. The only problem is, the chain around your neck can’t turn invisible. It will look suspicious if I walk around with a floating chain attached to nothing.”

“Oh!” Lotus brightened. “I can fix that! Follow me!” without waiting for instructions, she grabbed Razortail by the forearm and tried to tug him insistently out the doorway. It was no use, since she was only two thirds of Razortail’s size. He chuckled, then walked willingly with her out of his shack.

“Hm…” Lotus sniffed the air then took a handful of dirt, examining it closely. She glanced back at Razortail and said, “Come.”

She trotted over to the nearest pond and straight to a large bush growing close to the water. It was green with yellow-gold veins, and had large leaves. Razortail realized that it was the same plant that Lotus’s pouches were made out of.

“This plant is called faescfollum,” Lotus announced. “Make a rope out of this, and it will turn invisible along with me. I think it’s some sort of chemical that syncs to my scales, allowing it to camouflage itself.”

Razortail plucked one of the soft leaves and turned it over in his claws. He tried to pull it apart, but it resisted quite well. He could see why someone would make a pouch out of this.

“Alright,” he said. “Braid it for me.” He held it out to Lotus, and she started twisting it. They both sat at the pond as she worked.

“Why are you always grinning?” Lotus asked out of the blue.

Razortail stared at her. “Um, what?”

“You never stop grinning,” Lotus stated. Then her face changed to astonishment. “You mean you don’t know that you’re grinning all the time?”

“No.”

“Why hasn’t anyone ever told you?”

Razortail looked at her suspiciously. “This isn’t a trick?”

“No!” Lotus said. She gestured to the pond. “Look at your reflection.”

Razortail gazed at the pond and beheld his reflection. Sure enough, he was grinning. It was unsettling, almost sinister, and with lots of pointy teeth. His eyes were weird, too. One was black with a bright red iris and a black pupil, while the other was blood red with a light red iris surrounding a black slit.

He tried to frown. He thought he was frowning until he looked at his reflection. He was still grinning, no matter how hard he tried to frown.

Razortail tucked his wings close to his body and buried his face in his talons. “I’m a freak,” he said with anguish.

He felt a talon grip his shoulder gently. “No, you’re not,” Lotus said fiercely. Her eyes were blazing bright green.

“I’m a cannibal that sniffs flowers,” Razortail protested. “How freakish is that?”

“Normal dragons sniff flowers!” Lotus told him confidently, opening and closing her wings. “Just because you look terrifying doesn’t mean you’re a freak!”

Razortail stared at her. “I’m…terrifying?” he stared at his bloodstained claws. He had tried to wash off the red liquid, but it had stained his talons permanently. “I’m a trained assassin! I should be terrifying! Ha!” he ended his sentence with a slightly maniacal laugh.

“Oh, boy…” he heard Lotus mutter. “I sure landed myself in hot water. It appears that I will be both your pet and your therapist.”

Razortail stood up. “I need to get going. Have you finished?”

Lotus presented him with the rope of faescfollum. He slipped it around her neck, replacing the chain.

“Now come on,” Razortail said, tugging her with the rope. He ran over to his shack and grabbed his weapons pouch, slinging it over his neck. “Turn invisible,” he told Lotus. “And come see what I do for a living.”