A week after her eighteenth birthday, Belmardina roused early, feeling lively and in need of the wind. She disentangled herself from her husband’s arms and walked out of their tent and into the first rays of dawn. She crept into a nearby copse of trees, disrobed, transformed into a dragon (hitting her head on an overhanging branch in the process), and dropped her robes back inside the tent so that they would not be left behind. Usually she would help Blutgang take down the tent for the day’s travel, but she was sure he would forgive her this once.

The wind billowed underneath her wings, and the fire in her lungs kept her aloft as she flew over the morning-draped land. It had nearly been a year since she had married Blutgang; her first tour of the borderlands of Dru was almost complete: they were at the edge of the country of the Bankers, headed back to Umohaw, her homeland.

Soon, she came upon a spectacular autumn-colored forest, stretching for miles on end, covering the mountains on the border of Umohaw. Before she became a member of the kraat patrol, she had never been one for travel. Now, however, she could not be more grateful to her husband for the beauty she had seen in their first year together.

As she flew, she felt something pulling in her yellow mane. She reached up to find one of her husband’s feathers tangled in her hair. She giggled to herself, recognizing it as a chest feather. She stroked it lovingly with a thumb and index claw.

Without warning, just as she was over the thickest part of the woods, a strange, powerful wind came up beneath her, throwing one of her wings back so that she lost control. At the same time, she yelped as a scale was torn from her belly. Before she knew what was happening, the trees surrounded her as if they were hands reaching out to catch her, and she landed with a deep thud on the soft forest floor, narrowly avoiding a nearby boulder with a peculiarly flat top.

It was such a rough landing that she lost consciousness for a good deal of time. When she awoke, she was surprised to find she had merely suffered scratches, a bruised wing, the missing scale from her belly, and a bump on her head. Well, it could have been much worse. She thought to herself, looking about at the giant trees as she rubbed her sore wing with her claws. But what a strange wind! And these trees—they must be one hundred feet tall! They were so tall, in fact, that except for a few rays that escaped the leaves overhead, the area was completely in shadow.

“They’re about two-hundred feet tall.” A voice broke from the quiet and Belmardina jumped, her heart thudding against her chest violently. The woods suddenly became silent; insects stopped chirping and birdsong ceased. She froze, staring out at the darkness, looking desperately for the owner of the voice. Finally, within the trees she saw two giant, inky black eyes staring right back at her.

“Who are you, sir?” Belmardina asked in a clear but trembling voice.

Movement stirred about the eyes, revealing the silhouette of a giant body. The creature then crawled slowly, painfully slowly, into the small meadow, where at length it was illuminated by what little light peered through the trees. It was a sloth; an unimaginably giant one—as big as herself, in fact—covered in purple, matted hair. It smelt strongly of earth and leaves; not an unpleasant smell, but certainly a surprising one.

“I’m amused that you didn’t ask me how I read your mind first.” The sloth laughed disarmingly. “But priorities are priorities. I was never given a name; most just call me ‘Odd’.”

Belmardina shook her head, hoping this strange being was simply a vision that needed to be shaken from her brain. “Sir Odd,” she said after a moment, and could not help but laugh at how perfect the name was for a giant purple sloth, “nice to meet you. Do I have any reason to fear you?” She asked plainly, a habit she had picked up from her husband.

“None at all. You’ve been called to the Deep Meadow for a reason. Fate is kind. Or Magic, perhaps, is kind. Sometimes they work together. At any rate, I need your help.”

“What is it?” She asked, concerned she would have to treat a wound or brace a broken bone—something she had not the least idea of how to do, let alone on a giant sloth.

“I misspoke.” Odd corrected himself, “I don’t need help. He does.” He stretched out a long arm slowly, its three giant claws clasped gently about something. He brought his claw over the flat-topped boulder that sat between them and placed the object on top.

But it was no object. It was a baby kraat, impossibly small compared to the giants that stood over its little form. Its feathers were brown, tinged with orange and speckles of black. Its short beak, bare arms, legs and talons were an ivory white. It kicked at the air helplessly with its tiny claws, cooing softly.

“A kraatling? Where did you find him—I mean, he… isn’t yours is he?”

“Naturally not!” Odd laughed, “Magic does strange things, but not that strange. I found him as I watched over you—you were asleep for nine hours. Usually I’m indifferent to the world outside the forest, but leaving a babe to the elements would be beyond cruel, don’t you think?”

“Yes it would.” She wholeheartedly agreed, then added, “Did I really sleep for nine hours?” Blutgang must be worried sick!

“Yes, you did.” He then brought her attention back to the babe; “It would be cruel to keep this babe in the Deep Woods. We’ve gotten along well enough, but I’m very ancient, and very slow. Not suited to be a father to a kraatling. All I need you to do is take him from here.”

“Oh.” Belmardina said, uncertainty crawling into her voice, “But I don’t know how to take care of a baby. Perhaps there’s someone else…?”

“No one at all. You’re the first person I’ve met out here in years. You’re this kraatling’s only hope. Once you get him out of the Deep Woods, you may pass him to a suitable kraat mother. Or keep him yourself, if you’re so inclined.”

Belmardina did not like this task, but she saw no other option. “Alright. I see your wisdom, sir.” she paused, and silence reigned for a moment as if the trees themselves were listening. She glanced up, and seeing the trunks surrounding them, suddenly became worried, “Is there a place nearby I can take off from? The trees are so dense—there’s no room for my wings.”

“The trees are closely knit all the way through. But don’t worry, Queen Kraat; all you need to know to get out of here is two things…” and the sloth became very still, its eyes focusing on something she could not see, “...you must keep heading that way,” his long purple arm stretched forth slowly once more, pointing south, “to reunite with your husband,”

Belmardina opened her mouth to ask how the sloth knew she was Queen Kraat and that she had a husband, but then thought better of it. Clearly this being was beyond her.

“...secondly,” the sloth continued with deliberate pronunciation, “you must say ‘no’ three times to get out of these woods alive.”

Belmardina’s eyebrows knit in confusion and fear materialized as beads of sweat on her forehead. “Then, there’s danger in the Deep Woods? But you said that you haven’t seen anyone else here in years, right?”

“I did say that, but just because I haven’t seen anyone, doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone. I’m good at not being seen, and the creatures of the woods fear me. But don’t worry, young queen; follow my directions,” he pointed south again, “head that way, and say ‘no’ three times. You will know when.”

Before she could ask more, Belmardina suddenly became hypnotized by Odd’s deep, black eyes. His body began to fade until only the two unblinking orbs were left. Finally, his eyes closed and he was completely gone.

Instantly, once Odd had disappeared, the forest seemed to find its voice; bugs began to chirp and the wind began to blow. Belmardina was left alone with the kraatling, who instantly began crying once his caretaker was gone. “Poor thing!” She muttered, looking about for anything she could clothe herself with once she returned to human form. She saw that upon the flat-topped boulder, underneath the babe, a cloak had appeared—a final gift from Odd.

Belmardina willed herself back into her smaller human form. Upon returning to five feet and two inches, the woods seemed even more incredible; at this height, there was only the barest amount of light, and the wind that swept about her thin ankles was much colder. The baby had stopped crying and instead was giggling; he had been amused by her sudden change from a ferocious dragon to a tiny human woman.

She lifted the baby so she could reach the cloak beneath him and dressed as quickly as possible while holding the kraatling in one arm then the other. The cloak was velvety black and lined with warm, purple fur. “Thanks, Odd.” She whispered, and began her way south.