Assan does not like sitting still, you guys.
He remembers being very still in his egg for a very, very long time. He was very patient.
But now he’s out. And he doesn’t need anymore practice being patient, thank you very much.
“Davrin, he needs to learn some control,” says Manfred’s dad. He is one of Assan’s favorites. He plays with bones, and Manfred, and sometimes he smells like gingerwort truffles, or the dead things Assan likes to roll in.
“I found feathers in my alembic this morning,” he says, and Assan chirps proudly. He left them as a gift. How clever of Manfred’s dad to notice. He tries to perch on top of Manfred’s dad to show his appreciation. Manfred’s dad is very tall, and therefore ideal for perching upon. For some reason this is not appreciated. And Assan subsides. Really, he is already so patient.
He knows this because everyone tells him so.
“You’re so soft!” says the one who smells like trees and explosions as her fingers sink blissfully into Assan’s feathers. “I wonder how fast you’d be with more wings?” Assan liks her ideas. She is very exciting.
“Who’s a clever, pretty, lovely boy?” coos the one who is always surrounded by wisps. Assan chirps an answer, because it is him. And he is a clever boy. The wisps are fun to chase, and sometimes she steals him food from the den where Spite lives.
“Awwwwww,” says the small one that smells like earth and all the breath whooshes out of her tiny body as Assan curls on top of her. He tries to make himself as small as possible so as not to squish her. “You’re cute widdle face!” She wheezes, and squishes his face. Oh. She likes squishing. Very well. Assan will squish her more often.
“Hi Assan!” says the Leader. Assan knows they are the Leader, because Assan’s dad listens to them. So Assan must listen to them as well.
And they give very good hugs.
But the one Assan respects most is the dragon. No one else seems to realize they are a dragon. That’s silly. Assan knew from the moment he smelled their breath and heard the rumble in their chest. The sound of it stirs ancient, forgotten instincts deep in Assan’s gut. They even have the horns of a dragon.
Sometimes Assan will peek very cautiously around the corner of their den.
“Hey,” the dragon rumbles in greeting, and Assan is quick to scramble away and out of sight, thrilled with his own boldness.
All is well. Assan is a patient, pretty, clever, brave griffon.
And the dragon has not eaten him yet.
