No fire dragon would ever declare their cave stagnant or muggy. To them, that would be comfortable. The strongest dragons find caves in warm areas to avoid the waft of cool air. Other dragons loudly complain about their drafty cave every time they feel it, their joints stiffening and shivering from the temperature drop. Vakandi tucked himself into his second cavern, a smoothed out a spot in a corner, and curled up. Each time he shivered from the bitter cold air would cause the injury on his back to flare up. He grumbled in complaint and puffed out more hot air to fight back the frigid, icy spring day. He wanted to melt all the blasted snow. Seeing the white powder would, fortunately, warm him with embarrassment at recalling how he lost his temper at the Vakfored people. All because he failed to be there for them. To think that a great fire dragon like him would be stuck licking his wounds in the corner of his cold cave because of some – an actual mountain load– amount of snow smashed into his back.

This time his stomach gurgled as loud as his grumbling earlier. It had been days since he last ate. He could not go out and fly, or even walk, to hunt for food. Doing so would reopen the wound and it would need more time to heal. He glanced at the dark scab on his lower back, right above his tail. One of his precious plates was gone and he could not grow it back. It was unlikely the scales would ever grow over the area, either. The ugly pink would always be there.

Feelings of pain, cold, hungry, embarrassed, and alone, only made him spiral more. The best way to deal with spiraling would be to fly above. And he couldn’t even do that. Like all things in life, he would just have to wait until the status returned. He doubted he would be this miserable if it was summer and he just slept under the stars out by the foothills of the mountains. He would be warm, but then there would be zero snow to hurt his back.

He would still be an idiot for getting angry at the Vakfored for exploring the world on their own.

Something crunched the snow outside of the first cave’s entrance. A group of things and it was louder than the mountain goats that would foolishly hop by like a popping snack for him. Most thieves that came after the Golden Essence’s gold were quiet and would not risk breaking-in days after a snowstorm. He forced himself up, grimacing at the aches, and crept out of his warmer back cave to the front where the small gold piles sat. He stopped and stood below the low spot on the roof that divided the two caves, grateful for the small amount of sunlight that helped him avoid hitting his head. By the time he got to the first cave, he saw seventeen people that closely resembled icicles marching into his home. Ice covered their hair and clothes while snow clumped up around their feet from their hike up from Vakfored to here. The snowstorm was four days ago, a day after the Vakandi was dug out from the avalanche. They must have left immediately to get here.

He looked back behind the cave and noticed a lack of items. Every time he landed in the inner ring of the city, they gifted him something. Bedruk offered a lot of bowls only people could use. So many that Lash made a crate to make it easier, and safer for Vakandi to carry all the pottery. Giving the Vakfored a Bedruk bowl would end up being like he returned the gift, and that was rude. Vakandi’s papa at least taught him that much.

The people finished shuffling in, past the bank’s gold and near Vakandi. Some took off their hats and scarves, others started removing their large packs on their backs. A couple of donkeys complained about being dragged inside an alpha predator’s home. Vakandi’s mouth drooled at the sight of the animal, but he backed up. Those donkeys were not for him, no matter how much his stomach grumbled.

Engill put her hands on her hip and raised her voice to him. The bags under eyes were easier to notice on her human flesh. “Get back into that cave now. You need to rest. I can smell the blood in the air below the...” She politely stopped herself. “You will get a chill and cold coming out in your weak state.”

Vakandi puffed out a bit of air and inhaled it back. He stuck his tongue out in disgust before sucking it in to hide it as well. His breath was rancid and needed some evergreen trees to brush up. Embarrassed, he shuffled backward to his warmer cave. It seemed the people had the same idea of finding warmth. A few people deposited gold from packs on their backs and the donkeys’ onto the gold coins in the first cave. The bank’s piles were growing.

“I stay warm by using my fire to heat this cave,” Vakandi said.

“Keeping your blood in will, too.” She pointed to a corner. “Sit there and we will start treatment right away.”

“It will heal on its own.”

“And you will get an infection.”

He laughed as he settled into the corner. Even with his scuffling, the spry older woman kept up with a speed walk next to him. “Dragons don’t get infections. Or even a cold.”

She pointed to the corner. “Settle down. Let’s keep that fact true.”

Slowly, he settled down, curling his tail again. The wound still stung. He watched as the people gathered in, removing their packs in various places. They did not sit on the floor, instead they began pointing to various spots in the cave. While they ran around with a string, took notes, argued about chairs and tables, Engill climbed up on Vakandi’s back to inspect the wound.

Like the first day when the Vakfored arrived, the silence in Vakandi’s life was disrupted. He smiled as he heard them bicker about.

“We realized we had not come to visit your cave much beyond depositing gold. With everything you have done for us, we want to help you in return. Any complaints?” Engill asked.

She asked a broad question that instantly became narrowed as she scraped at his back. He turned and growled. She smiled at him with a tiny knife in her hand. “Ah, so it does hurt. It’s swollen because of an infection. You focus on them while I remove the bad flesh. Ginger!” She shouted.

It was not the root she shouted for, but a young woman bundled up in her hiking equipment still approached. Her hair weaved into a braid stuck out below her woven hat. “What? We just got here. Can’t we rest for a moment?”

“Sickness doesn’t stop because you take a nap,” Engill lectured.

“I heard you tell the Shadow of the Sun rest is needed.” The woman replied.

Her response was so fiery that she should have been named Pepper.

“Do you even want to learn?” Engill asked.

“As much as you want to debate. What is it you need? We shouldn’t be bothering his rest like this.”

Vakandi cleared his throat and pretended to be more interested in the chalk lines that were happening on the slate opposite of him. Already a human and orc worked together to drill a hole in the wall. Vakandi had seen them make paintings on the wall, but the drilling was new. Maybe it would be more dimensional this way. A dwarf was pulling out a chopping axe and pointing to the outside was confusing.

Before he could question what they were doing, Engill patted his back. “So, what do you think? Are you alright with that?”

He widened his eyes as if it would help him hear the past better. Ginger had her arms crossed, but smiled. The body language of people was never helpful. The kind spoken woman, Engill, had her head tilted, still holding that knife near his injury. He had no clue what they said. He directed his voice to Engill. “I would like to hear your opinion on the matter.”

“I am not versed in these plants she talks about. My central focus is about the plants readily available in the Black Forest.”

Vakandi involuntarily constricted his muscles. He could easily burn the forest down, but that didn’t stop the death within it. It would only help it grow. The people did a better job pushing it out slowly than he ever did.Engill was still standing on top and noticed his twitch. “I won’t be using the plants directly on you. With your permission, I will clean your back and use the samples as means of testing to see if I have purified the plants enough to be used on you.”

“While she wastes her time on that,” Ginger pointed to a large backpack and continued talking, “I plan to actually use living typed plants to find medicine for you.”

“I appreciate the gesture.” Vakandi said, “But I will be fine. I just need time.”

“You’ll suffer pointlessly.”

“Listen to us, Shadow of my Sun.”

The women said in unison. Ginger waved, signaling Engill to talk. The older woman graciously bowed her head. “This was not a minor injury. There are talks of powerful medicine out in the world that can heal instantly. With how you protected us, we want to find this in case you get hurt again.”

“Even a big, powerful dragon can use some help.” Ginger said. A lot of the people by the chalked-up wall nodded in agreement.

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

A loud thwack sound came from outside of the cave. Its sound echoing in. A few more happened in succession. The sound of an axe chopping a tree down. Vakandi rarely had to deal with multiple interruptions like this. A dwarf started pulling out a massive amount of purple yarn from their packs. It must deal with the art they were going to do on the wall. The guild master of the woodsmen had come over to help. Vakandi ignored the tree cutting and focused on Engill and Ginger. “Vakfored, you always create. Who am I to say no to your innovation? I would greatly appreciate if you find a way to speed up my healing. But I don’t want my blood leaving this chamber.”

Ginger snorted. “You lost a lot out in the snow.”

“What my apprentice should be saying is that you can trust us, and we will respect your wishes.”

“Then feel free to research using the samples as explained, but please keep me informed.” He turned his head back to Ginger, getting a crick in his neck for switching back and forth. “I’m curious to know what plants you have brought? I know of a few key magical essences that can aid in magical healing.”

The rhythmic axe cutting stopped as the cracking sound of the tree falling brought further attention again. Vakandi could only imagine the plume of snow rising from the tree’s impact to the ground. He could no longer ignore the fifteen other people who shuffled around his home. “What are you doing?”

The orc who was drilling in the wall came up to him. “It’s darn cold in here. We’re going to be staying a while until those two finish researching a healing draft for you. I want to be warm and comfortable.”

“How does drilling into my cave help with that?”

The human who was coring another spot stopped. “Sun of my Shadow, remember the water pipe? We want to give you one. That’s going to be an extensive project, too. But we can’t have the pipes freeze, so first we are making a fireplace.”

For the first time, Vakandi learned how to tsk his tongue. “I want to make sure I understand. You are building a fire dragon... a fireplace?”

“Aye,” the human replied. “You said so yourself. You use your own breath to keep warm in the back. We want you comfortable.”

He lost his words. Centuries of meditation on the ways of the world and he had nothing to say about having a fireplace besides what his Mum told him to say. “Thank you.”

Granted, those words only applied to other dragons, and he was certain there was a lesson about avoiding people at all costs. If he listened to all her lessons, he would have missed out on seeing the city grow. Them blustering about in his cave, dragging wood in and cutting it, hammering away to the point it gave him a headache, hearing and feeling the earth shake at their onslaught. Even Ginger and Engill could not stay calm for a moment as they argued the best way to work in the area. Everyone was setting up stations. Work orders were quickly being made about needing a table and chairs. The access to water would speed things up too. These unexpected guests were going to be here for more than a few days with all the items they packed. They had packed only dried meat, fruits, and hardtack. Engill was the only one to bring in the death plants and their tincture.

He avoided twitching too much to Engill’s cutting, but kept a close eye on her. Until someone pushed a giant yarn collection next to him. The deep purple belonged on berries, not near Vakandi. The dwarf and a human guild master of the woodsmen smiled up. “Shadow of our Sun,” spoke the guild master, “this man saw your pain and suffering the other day and wants to bring you more comfort in this unbearable winter.”

He put a hand on the companion. The man stroked the yarn in his hand like it was his beard. “I understand how the joints hurt with the cold. I couldn’t imagine the massive amount of pain your injury could be in now. Don’t want to, to be honest.”Vakandi puffed some smoke out at that remark. “Tell me then, what is it you have in mind to make it comfortable? It seems you Vakfored are running about the place.”

A mighty dragon letting the small ones roam around. The situation was joyful. He was finally like that orc who cared lovingly for their child days before. He was a parent in the chaos.

“I want to make you something my grandma made me for snowy days. A cardigan.”

The vocabulary of the people always befuddled Vakandi. He learned the word armor as the broad term, and how it broke down to helm and greaves from there. Although a shirt protected them from the weather and exposure, its not considered armor. The people were scaleless, but they were small enough to always mingle like this in each other’s homes. “Enlightening me? What is a cardigan?”

The dwarf undid his jacket, and stretched out the soft, flimsy, looking garment underneath that weaved around in design and knots, golden buttons standing out on the red. “This!”He noticed small holes in the knitted cardigan, which made it impossible to keep a person or a dragon warm. “I guess it could be comfortable.” He did not want to chase away the people, especially when they were being so forward with their kindness. But, a dragon doesn’t wear clothing. “Do you even have enough materials? You only recently started the looms.” He nodded toward the Woodsmen guild master. “Plus, didn’t I say that the fabric should be used for your people-”

A tickle on his back paw, between the claws, caused him to snort suddenly. Looking back, Engill and Ginger giggled.

“Oh my, a dragon is ticklish here? What a weakness. Maybe you should–cover it up gratefully.” Engill said.

Vakandi quickly lost his funny bone. That was the voice his Mum used to give him. “You know what you are doing.” He said to correct the previous statement.

“Of course!” The dwarf was unchallenged. “I should introduce myself. I’m Jokran, and with these needles, I will make you comfortable and ease your pain.”

Vakandi felt embarrassed for trying to turn away from the help. This was no different from when Bedruk started offering all the clay pots. Vakandi never wanted them initially, but now he treasured them more because his friend was gone. A fireplace to remember and cherish other visitors, a place for them to stay and visit for a bit, and Vakandi could host them! A winter armor to keep the chill off would be nice, and make visiting the city easier, to see his domain glisten when it was covered in snow.

“I look forward to seeing what you can do.”

Even more donkeys bayed at the entrance as they resisted being dragged inside. Vakandi though, could not get up to investigate and he felt uneasy about that. The cheering and applauding of his people diminished his stress of invaders quickly. He really needed a break from being on edge around them. Things were fine.

More people settled in, along with more gold and yarn. They brought along other companions. A human brought a cat and her freshly born kittens. The human did not want to leave them alone at home. She bundled up the fur covered creatures in a box. The felines mewed and scattered about the moment they were free in Vakandi’s cave. Such tiny little creatures he easily ignored. They might enjoy the various pests of the cave. The people seemed amused by their antics as they dashed about. One bravely cried up to Vakandi, protesting at the dragon for taking the best warm spot. The mother nuzzled near him, bringing the rest of the litter nearby. He reminded himself it was only a few more creatures to the disorder of his cave. This was the noise of the city slowly entering his home. He grinned and rested his head near the cat. Both their tails twitching as they watched the people run about on their work orders.

The Vakfored had sucked the air out of the bags to decrease the volume of the yarn. This idea intrigued Vakandi, and they talked about how to create infinite bag space. Engill contributed a lot, and Ginger would provide a counterargument. Jokran worried that the yarn would become tangled and knotted up–or all of it would appear instantly. Fortunately, solving this problem would not happen instantly. The Vakfored were visiting for a while. Days passed and the pain in his heart and back vanished with time under the constant attention of everyone.

He did not understand how the people kept laughing at the kittens. They would try to climb on everything and would get in the way. The cats seemed so smug, like they knew and ran the place. One even swatted at Vakandi to threaten him into moving. Ginger giggled and picked up what she deemed “a tabby” away from the scared dragon. He did not feel feer. He just wanted to snap at the creature and had to resist for the people’s sake.

Jokran made progress on the knitting and explained to Vakandi how the stitches worked to weave together and make various designs. During summer, some rows of the cardigan had to be undone. Jokran’s girlfriend came over to help with the project as the fall colors appeared. Vakandi, Jokran, and his girlfriend would sit near the edge of the cave looking out at the red, orange, and yellow leaves that lined the mountain and valley near the Vakfored. The giant ball of yarn was slowly shrinking and the last of the shoulder braids were being stitched together under gentle hands. Ginger and Engill had helped heal Vakandi’s back and made progress on a potion they called the Dragon’s Elixir. It would only work to make barrels of it at a time, and Vakandi really liked its golden color. Other people stayed and slept, their various sounds of snoring echoing through the night almost as loud as their tools during the day. The fireplace hearth took shape and so did the tables for everyone.

The kittens grew into small cats, as all young creatures do. They had not yet returned home, apparently thinking the cave was their’s. Vakandi was at first fine with them, but they kept attacking Jokran’s yarn. One skein ran down the mountainside, causing it to get snagged and stained. Everyone laughed, even Jokran. The people were just happy to have the time together, and if they had to spend more because of dirty yarn, so be it. Vakandi learned from them again how to be patient, and not worry about the end of their brief lives.

Right when the first frost appeared, Jokran wove the loose ends of the cardigan into place. Vakandi’s back ached with the cold. Before he could moan or complain, the Vakfored brought wood into the cave along with food. They prepared fireworks on the outside of the cave. Vakandi lit the fire with a single puff, and the flame spread out quickly along the wall. Laughter filled the room and people handed glasses of water around from the now working pipes. Cool fresh water was refreshing after all the hard work. A line connecting the city to the dragon’s home. Chairs scraped the floor along with the feet of dancing and the sound of fireworks boomed outside.

All the noise and bustle making his own heart flutter with excitement as Jokran brought over the finished purple cardigan. He could not do it alone, and like always, the city of Vakfored grouped up together to solve a problem. People of all ages lifted or used magic to carry the heavy piece of clothing to Vakandi. He could not help but beam looking at this clothing. This was a ceremony, and he joined in on the celebration. Jokran knitted the cardigan in this room. It was not a surprise. Vakandi could easily walk over and grab it. A few times, he touched it to feel its softness. Now, as the magic lifted it into the air, he felt like a young hatchling ready to take flight. His wings stretched out, and the holes lined up as the winter armor slid onto his back. Next to his claws, on each side of his shoulders, sat an extremely long roped cord, and an equally paired short one. Vakandi was not sure about the fashion taste beyond them being play toys for the cats. The pets mowed and chased after the dangling cords.

Jokran chased off the cats on one side, while Ginger picked up the tabby on the other. “Shadow of our Sun, pull the short cords!”

Without hesitating, Vakandi listened. The holes around his wings tightened up, leaving room for him to fly. The long cloth draped down to his tail rested nicely along his neck, and even had three buttons to seal up along his stomach with a bit of magic. He jiggled about, pulled a bit again on the cords, feeling how they tightened and loosened. With a satisfied sigh, he looked at Jokran, “This is quite cozy warm. Thank you.”