Ymiden 2, Arc 719
He was sitting on soft sand with his bare feet in the water, on the shore of Lake Lovalus just a stone's throw from the home he shared with wife, children, parents or rather grandparents, and so many furred creatures that he'd lost count of them all. But Padraig was alone, rarity that it was, and this time it was by design. Or at least his dreaming state would have it that way.
It was just him, alone with a bucketful of garden slugs by his side, a wicker basket that he'd fill with his catch, and a pole in his hand. Gone for the moment was all the noisy and exhausting chaos that had been their lives of late. In fact it was so peaceful and quiet that he could hear the gentle lapping, the rise and fall of the waves against the pilings of a nearby dock, the snapping of white sails on fishing boats off near the horizon, and the cries of distant, hungry gulls circling those same boats.
It was a welcome reprieve, until it wasn't. It was always this way, ever since he'd returned from the Edge. Voices, muted and mysterious plagued his dreams, tugged at him, in truth, even when he was awake. But more so when he slept. There was no escaping them, and this time, though he thought he'd finally managed it, was no different. "Why do you think he's doing that?" one of them asked. Padraig knew the voice, though it was only in his dreams that he ever heard it so clearly. It was his imagination filling in the blanks. "To feed his family?" another one replied. This one was wearing a pair of spectacles, halfway up the bridge of it's snout.
And suddenly Padraig found himself standing behind the pair, looking back at himself there on the shore. As if inside a bubble or a specimen glass as if he was unaware of being watched, but all the easier to observe and study at the Dragon's' leisure. He more than most anyone knew that in spite of those who swore differently, dragon's were real. He'd met them firsthand, and what he knew for sure was that these weren't the mythical, sage but merry, lovable things of fairy tales. He'd seen them, experienced and been studied by them, off at the Edge. And what they were, was terrifying. Better they were left right were they were and never allowed a way into the world.
And yet he yearned to go back, to observe and learn more. Lately, the way things had gone and the way that they changed, he thought he might never have the chance. But here they were, and he was standing behind them while they studied him on the shore. To feed his family? The first one snorted and flame licked out of his snout. "He's no fisherman, and he's got a large family. Better he fills his basket at market, and claims it's his catch." Padraig resented that, but the dragon was probably right nonetheless. "Why are you watching me?" Padraig demanded, and at once, both dragon's turned in their seats to look at him. "Always watching, mumbling in my ear but saying nothing. Never stopping."
The second one pulled out a notebook from his topcoat pocket, along with a pencil. And with his tongue, he wet the point of his writing implement and gazed curious at Padraig over the wire frames of his spectacles. "And how does that make you feel?" the dragon asked curiously.