The farmstead was a comfortable one, well-built and solid in its construction. With two stories made from carefully and expertly carved boards, its front porch also served as a balcony for the second floor, and the windows were ever-so-slightly clouded from age. Its roof sloped gently to rough gutters, draining out of the corners of the home.

Seated in two rocking chairs on the porch, overlooking their cornfields, were two men. The older of the two had gray in his beard, but his eyes shone with a deeply contemplative and serious expression. He wore a white undershirt, a comfortable flannel long-sleeved shirt, and tough gray pants, along with well-sewn leather boots riding up past his shins. The other man wasn't younger by much, but he had a chiseled jaw, small nicks in his chin telling the story of bad razors and worse shaving cream. It made him look younger, and even comfortably leaning back in his rocking chair, he gave off an aura of activity, of wanting to do something. His clothes nearly matched his companion's.

At the moment, they were watching a scaly crimson creature, two stubs poking out of its sharp shoulders, attempting to take an ear of corn. It was clearly four-legged, but seemed to put most of its weight on its back legs. With a long whippy tail and a pair of tiny horns protruding from its head, it looked as though it would be quite the vicious creature when it grew up. As it currently measured only four feet long including the tail, it didn't look all that dangerous.

The older man leaned forward, bringing his weight to bear on the ornate rocking chair he sat on. "Jonas," he said slowly, a heavy accent in his words, "I do believe there's a dragon tryin' ta steal some of our corn."

Nodding thoughtfully, the younger man answered, "I'm thinkin' you might be right on the money."

They both watched the baby dragon as it tried to pull the corncob off of its stalk, and then inevitably failed, tripping over backward and landing in a heap. With a whirl of motion, it rolled to its feet and hissed at the cornfield, its hackles rising, and then tackled the cornstalk.

Seeing as the corn was well over ten feet tall and thick with corn ready for harvest, the tiny dragon was once again foiled in its attempts and was hurled away as the stalk rebounded. It lay there for a long moment, panting huffs of gray smoke from its flared nostrils.

The older man spoke again. "I do believe that's not an ordinary dragon."

Jonas nodded slowly. "I'm of the opinion you might be right."

Rising from his chair, the older man began to walk down the veranda towards the small dragon, keeping his pace at a casual, steady gait. Jonas didn't stand up from his chair, but called, "Hey, Silas. Be careful, all right?"

Silas waved a hand at him without turning around, the distance between him and the unusual reptile closing as he walked ever closer. As a precaution, he pulled his unbuttoned long-sleeved shirt aside, the wooden handle of an intricately carved gun visible at his side.

The dragon evidently hadn't noticed Silas quite yet, still angrily huffing at the cornfield. Bringing itself to its feet, it once again tried to stand on its back legs, failed, and fell down to its forelegs. it looked irritated at the fact, a quick puff of gray smoke coming from its nose once again as it scrabbled at the dirt.

It was obvious the moment the dragon noticed Silas. It jumped into the air, spinning abruptly, and backed into the relative safety of the cornfield, its yellow eyes narrowing as it kept an eye on him. Once he was about fifteen feet away, the dragon hissed loudly.

Silas paused. "Y'know, I'm not a stupid man, dragon. I can tell when sumthin' ain't right with the world, and I've never seen a creature actin' like you. So can you understand me or not?"

The dragon blinked several times in confusion, then nodded tentatively. The old man smiled wearily. "Heh, I thought so. I take it yer from Earth too?"

Its jaw dropped in shock, and he chuckled deeply. "Yep, you're from Earth all right. And you're not the only one - Jonas over there's in the same boat."

The dragon peeked past him at Jonas, who waved pleasantly from his spot on the veranda. "Hey there, dragon! Yer looking rather nervous!"

Slowly it turned to look back at Silas, who bent down to his knees. "So, you've got a decision ta make. Are ya gonna head out, or are ye in the mood to hang around a while?"

The dragon stared at him, its crimson forked tongue slipping in and out of its mouth uncertainly. Glancing up at the rows of corn above it, it made a decision and carefully walked forward. Silas grinned tiredly. "Heh. I'd be doin' the same in yer position, dragon. Have ya got a name?"

It perked up slightly, then opened its mouth. The only sound that came out was a vibrating bark, hoarsely reverberating off of the house. It seemed rather startled at the sound, and repeated it much quieter with a small whine of surprise. Silas shrugged. "Eh, that's all right. We can iron out out the details later on, bud. Until then-" He stood up, easily tearing an ear of corn off of the stalks and leaning down to place it in front of the dragon. "Ya look hungry. Let's get some meat on those bones."

He began to go back to the house, and the dragon cautiously followed him, picking up the corn in its mouth. It was still occasionally rising to its back legs and trying to walk on two legs, but without fail kept falling back down to all fours. As Silas headed up the stairs and past Jonas, the dragon hopped awkwardly onto the porch, tripped, and fell flat on its jaw, dropping the corn. Jonas snorted loudly, clearly trying to push down a laugh, and the dragon glared at him. The glare didn't do much, seeing as it was roughly the size of a dog.

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Seizing the corncob, the dragon began padding after Silas into the house, but Jonas apparently had other ideas. Reaching forward, he grabbed the dragon by the base of the tail and lifted. Ignoring its startled squawk, he checked its underside briefly and released. "So you're a boy, that should help us out a bit. It'll narrow down what names ya might be havin'."

The dragon hissed loudly at him, backing away, and then seized his corncob and following Silas into the house.

The interior of the homestead was cozy, a thick woolen carpet covering most of the floor. Small houseplants sat on top of an oak mantle, inside which was a simmering pile of embers. A table and two chairs sat next to a wide window, calm sunlight beaming through and illuminating the dust motes floating through the air. Aside from the staircase leading up to the second floor, there were three doors leading into different rooms, a hallway left open on the left.

The dragon paused, his indignation forgotten as he stared at the homey living room. Silas smiled at him, ambling towards the first door on the right. "Nice place, isn't it? It was a gift from a good friend of ours. But I'm willing ta bet yer lookin' more for the kitchen." 

Pushing it open, Silas walked in and stood aside, gesturing for the dragon to enter. Eyes wide, the scaly reptile walked in, and his eyes grew even wider. 

The kitchen was fully stocked from what he could see, with an open-entry pantry loaded with foods of nearly every kind either of them could think of. With a marble-topped counter running through the center of the room and a neat trapdoor to allow access, the kitchen had the faintest scent of fresh-baked bread. 

Silas blinked, hurrying around the counter. "Oh, forgot about that - hope it's not too burnt."

Hopping onto one of the tall wooden stools next to the counter, the dragon perched carefully, keeping its haunches high and clutching onto the wood with its claws. Rising from his position behind the counter, Silas set a lightly burnt loaf of crusty brown bread on the counter, the top tinged golden. Retrieving a small cup from one of the cabinets lining the walls, he pulled a stick of butter from a strange-looking box with thick sides. Carefully, he sliced a portion off and dropped it in the cup, putting the majority of the butter back inside and setting the cup just inside the gently steaming oven. 

Leaning against the cabinets, Silas waited patiently for the butter to soften. A loud growl interrupted him, and he glanced upward at the dragon, who was staring with watering eyes at the bread. Even though he didn't open his toothy mouth, another growl was audible from where Silas stood, and he chuckled deeply. "I get that yer hungry, but trust me when I say yer gonna want ta wait."

Staring at Silas plaintively, the dragon returned his attention to the loaf of bread, drops of saliva falling out of his mouth and hissing as they hit the counter, leaving angry black spots on its white surface. 

Silas sighed. "D'you mind? It's not exactly a piece o' cake to fix that thing." The dragon looked down at the gently smoking black spots and shrank back a bit, almost falling off of the stool. It growled apologetically, and Silas waved it away. "Ehh, don't worry about it. Doesn't look like it did too much damage."

Seizing a clean red rag, he wiped the black spots away, leaving only the faintest of gray marks. Putting the rag back, he replaced it with a thin-bristled brush and stood up, holding the cup of liquid butter. Dipping the brush in, he began to expertly cover the steaming loaf of bread in a shining veneer of butter, the scent developing and evolving into a truly delicious smell.

The dragon looked as though it was pracitcally in agony at this point, his tail lashing from side to side, and Silas smiled sympathetically. Wielding a knife from a nearby drawer, he sawed a thick slice of the bread off and set the loaf aside. Going back to the cabinets, he selected a jar of syrupy golden liquid, the lid of which spiked upward in a sort of funnel. He upended the jar on top of the slice of bread, and a slow stream of honey began to drizzle over it. Carefully ensuring that neither too much nor too little of the delicious liquid was used, he lightly shook the bottle to get the last drips off and put it back in its cabinet, placing a small metal cap on the top.

Turning around, he gestured at the bread. "Well? It's not gonna eat itself, y'know."

The dragon practically pounced on the bread, his eyes rolling back into his head as he shoved the slice into his mouth and getting honey all over his face. Silas laughed quietly, and the dragon ignored him in favor of stuffing itself full of the bread. It was only a matter of seconds before the slice was gone, and the dragon stared up at him hopefully.

Silas shook his head, getting a shallow bowl out from the same cabinet as the cup and putting it underneath a metal faucet above the sink. The dragon gazed at it questioningly as Silas turned the faucet on. A stream of clear water began splashing out and into the bowl, and Silas explained, "Another gift from a friend. He owed me and Jonas a favor, so we asked him to do a neat bit o' water magic. Handy, innit?"

Picking up the bowl and tilting it to get rid of the excess water, he set it down in front of the dragon. "Wet yer whistle with some o' that, all right? Honey leaves a fella's mouth dry, or at least that's what Jonas says."

Gratefully lapping it up, the dragon finished it off in a little less than a minute, his long tongue serving to accurately and effectively scoop the water into his mouth. Smacking his narrow snout, the dragon paused for a moment, and then yawned widely. Silas smirked faintly. "Yeah, I thought ye'd be tired. There's a couch in the front room if yer in need of it."

The dragon hopped off of the stool, heading back into the front room. Silas followed him, heading back out the front door as the dragon coiled up in a loose ball on the comfortable couch, closing his eyes as he settled in. 

Back on the front porch, Jonas was leaning back in his rocking chair with his eyes closed, calmly dozing off as the sun tinged the sky orange, slowly setting over the horizon as the sun-streaked mountains of clouds crept across the sky. Silas eased into his own chair, folding one leg on top of the other.

Eyes closed, Jonas asked, "Well?"

Silas raised an eyebrow at him. "Well what?"

Opening his eyes, Jonas turned and looked at him. "Well, is the dragon behaving?"

Silas' smile wasn't a small one. "Yeah, he's bein' polite and all that. I'm of the opinion he's gonna want to stick around for a while."

Jonas returned the smile, closing his eyes and settling back into his chair. "That's good. It's not good for a young'un to be adventurin' around all on 'is own."

Silas snorted. "What'd you call what we did when we were kids?"

Jonas waved it away. "Shut up, old man, I'm sleepin' here." 

Shaking his head amusedly, Silas rested his arms on the side of the rocking chair and shut his eyes. "Old man? I'm not older than you by much, ya geezer."

Their good-natured banter continued well past sunset.