The Golden Dragon's Hoard

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"But these weren't the kind of monsters that had tentacles and rotting skin, the kind a seven-year-old might be able to wrap his mind around--they were monsters with human faces, in crisp uniforms, marching in lockstep, so banal you don't recognize them for what they are until it's too late."
― Ransom Riggs

Hey guys! I hope you are enjoying this so far and that you like this chapter! We are fully into the plot, now, so buckle up. (I'd love to hear what you guys think about this so far!)

Part One - Chapter Six
"The Confused Little Dragon"

Despite being in the same position he fell asleep in, being cradled to the big dragon's chest, when the little dragon wakes up he finds that they're no longer alone.

The witch, only a couple feet away, is sitting on the ground with their back to the leather couch from before, facing him.

Like the last time Stray saw them, their curly brown hair was a mess as it peaked out of a beanie. Unlike last time, they were completely dry and had no coat on. Instead, a soft pink sweater covers their upper body and they're wearing fuzzy looking black pants.

Their eyes are dark and no longer upset, and they're laughing lightly while talking to the big dragon—who's sitting at the edge of the nest, not in it, and talking.

Despite being half-asleep, the hatchling still thinks it's a bit odd how they treat each other. It's like they're two witches or two familiars; one in the same instead of enemies.

Stray's never met a witch who acted like this before.

But then again, he's never really met a lot of witches.

Chuckling lightly at something the other says, the big dragon brings the hatchling closer to them, one hand easily holding him to their body and the other gently stroking down the spikes on his tail which was wrapped around their forearm.

The movement draws the witch's eyes down to him and the hatchling's brain is still trying to be awake, leaving him blinking up slowly as the other's words get stuttered off into silence.

If the little dragon was better, maybe he would've instantly jumped into action, maybe he would've snarled and glared at the witch to make them look away—maybe the fear filling his system would've made him do anything but go stock still, the purr he hadn't noticed coming from his own chest cutting off.

But it didn't and he's left staring at them—in his defense, though, the witch seems to freeze too, body locking up and eyes widening.

This, of course, makes the big dragon pause and for their hands to tense slightly around the hatchling. No one says anything, the air twisting into something tense.

The witch is the first one to break eye contact, wincing as they look up to their familiar.

"Atlas?" They call, and Stray watches with bated breath as their hands twitch in their lap. Are they getting ready for a spell? Are they— "Your hatchling awake. He's uh, staring at me."

Atlas? What's—oh... that's their name. The mystery's name. The hatchling frowns, memories of the night he got caught filtering in past the sound of his pounding heart.

The dragon's Atlas. Atlas the big dragon.

The phoenix is Ras, such a mundane name for a creature so powerful and the witch—

"Hm," the big dragon hums, chuff echoing louder every second and it makes the little dragon unwillingly relax. "It's okay, it's okay. He's just wakin' up. Give him a moment."