Orange Cranberry Muffins

Chapter 4: Dragon Infiltration

Svend was in trouble. Dragons are tough. Dragons are cruel. Dragons are independent and selfish. Dragons do not melt over dessert and warm bread and the simple kindness of sharing a meal. Dragons do not enjoy their human form so much that they almost forget to spend time as a dragon! Except that was exactly what Sven was doing. He loved “Operation Better Food.” He loved the food, he loved the company of the surly blacksmith and his sweet baking wife. He loved the hard physical labor each day. He loved watching people interact and putting his clever mind to use deciphering the meaning behind each nod or wave or flutter of an eyelash. He loved pretending to be human. A little bit too much.

Amazingly, almost everyone accepted his presence as just another young man who traveled away from home to make his fortune. He still had to work hard to curb his temper, but fittingly, working at the blacksmith helped harness and release much of his anger. He also enjoyed subtle manipulations of his fellow townspeople, it was a nice challenge for his clever mind and understanding of the intricacies of human behavior. OK let’s be honest, he just loved to meddle and gossip. He was thriving on this new companionship after hundreds of years of solitude.

He loved the companionship so much that he was staying later and later as a human, sometimes barely making his half-day commitment as a dragon. But the evenings in the village were enticing with their festivities and celebrations and general camaraderie. There were even village dances which he very much enjoyed. As he had chosen a rather handsome human form, he was always quite popular at all the events, as long as he curbed his tongue.

The only person whose companionship he did not enjoy was that of the dragon spotter, Gregory. Gregory was not sold on Svend’s humanity. His job, afterall, was to be suspicious of all newcomers. Svend made certain that they only interacted in the smithy, to cover his slightly sulphuric scent, but still Gregory was on high alert. He would frequently happen upon Svend as he left the blacksmith to return to dragon form in his lair. Gregory was obviously trying to catch Svend doing something untoward and Svend was having to get pretty creative in his excuses to shake off the cautious dragon spotter.

One evening, after a long, enjoyable day near the blistering heat of the forge and the warm kitchen of the blacksmith, Svend was walking through town to go to his lair when he saw Gregory doing something familiar. He might not have even noticed it if he had not spent the last year observing human behavior for Gregory was doing something decidedly not human. He was staring at the dragon magnet. Just standing there, as if transfixed by this beautiful golden maiden. Svend has to consciously work at not staring at the maiden every time he walked by, for it was actually a very clever dragon magnet. But he could avoid its lure if he kept his wits about him. In all his observations he had never seen a human affected by the magnet. Some would rub the maiden’s foot for good luck as they walked by, but they barely glanced at her as they did so. Yet here was Gregory, the dragon spotter himself, seemingly unable to tear himself away. Svend walked between Gregory and the golden maiden and faced the suspicious dragon spotter. Gregory was ripped from his trance, startled but not surprised to see Svend standing before him. They looked deep into each others’ eyes and Svend knew. Gregory was not what he seemed.

Could it be? Is Gregory actually a dragon in disguise like himself? The long walks through the woods, always seeming quite at home. The never-ending knowledge and stories about dragons and humans alike, knowledge that would take generations to master. Always the first to call suspicion on a passing stranger. Was he, in fact, trying to keep suspicion away from himself? Hiding in plain sight? This was too much for Svend to process. With one final stare, he walked away from Gregory to mull this new theory over in his clever mind. As he walked home, he pulled out a delicious orange cranberry muffin from the blacksmith’s wife. “For the road” she had told him as he walked out the door, and what a road he had been on tonight. These are the muffins that she made.