The diminutive dragon waddled busily about his newest adventure. Only a bit over a foot long, and just tall enough to bite an ankle or two, the small red wyrm bore a remarkable resemblance to a ferret, with his bowed back and chunky bottom. He chattered happily. He had found his favorite thing: Mischief.
A dragon’s lair, a mix-breed like him, it smelled like. And young. The traps had been fun to run through. He’d spent some time cavorting with the pets he had found, making a nuisance of himself, until the large snake had quite tired of his wrestling and shooed him off.
And so he had found the hoard. Most of it smelled of sea water, the briny smell making him sneeze sparks as he stuck his nose in corners and crevices, dragging whatever he fancied to a pile in the center, to take along with him. He rattled as he moved, myriad chains and jewels that he had taken a liking to draped over his tiny form until you could scarce see his scales beneath the glitter.
At present, he was occupied in his thievery of quite a large golden chest. It was lovely, inset with rubies and emeralds, and likely once belonged in a royal treasurey. Lil Bit thought it would make a lovely bed. He tugged, tiny paws wrapped tight around the gilded handle, back legs scraping the floor as he sought for purchase, his small, beady eyes closed in strain and concentration. If he noticed that he was no longer alone, he gave no sign of it.