There was something special about the boy, Daegar decided, and he had a feeling it wasn’t just a father’s pride speaking.
    Resting for a moment, hoe at his side, Daegar looked at his son. The boy, short, gaunt, sandy haired, and full of energy, was playing in the garden again. Daegar grinned; he was only twenty-nine, and the ten-year old bundle of joy would probably kill him from exhaustion within two years.
    “Delgar!” he called, striding over.
    The little boy, his bright blue eyes gleaming with excitement, looked up. Daegar’s heart soared; if there was anybody who gave his life more meaning than Delgar, he didn’t know who it could be.
    “What are you doing now, little one?” Daegar asked, rubbing his grubby hand through his shoulder length blond hair. Long hair was the custom of his people, the Nordlanders, short hair only reserved for the monks who serviced the spiritual needs of the people.
    “I'm a Dragon!” Delgar declared happily, and spread his hands out in a strange imitation of wings. Daegar noted that Delgar's hair was already beginning to darken; a sign that he would take after his mother's side of the family. Oh well, there were plenty of ways that he took after his father too.
    “I don't see you breathing fire,” Daegar challenged playfully.
    “I'm just not doing it now.”
    Daegar nodded sagely, delighted by the innocent logic. “I see.”
    “Will you tell me a story, Dada?” Delgar asked, stopping in the middle of the field, his arms falling awkwardly to his side.
    “I'm working right now,” Daegar pointed out. “I told you a story this morning.”
    “But I want another story,” Delgar pouted.
    Glancing back at the field, Daegar decided he didn’t want to return to his toils quite yet. Smiling at Delgar, he deftly changed the subject. “Why are you a Dragon?”
    Delgar's face lit up, eyes filled with excitement. “They're big and powerful and they fly so high! They live forever and...”
    Daegar frowned melodramatically. “And what would happen to your dada if you became big and powerful and immortal and flew so high?”
    “You'd be a Dragon too,” Delgar said confidently, hands on his hips.
    “And why would you want to be big and powerful?” Daegar asked. “Look at you! You're ten winters old. If you get any bigger, you'll be able to beat any Dragon that ever comes at you.”
    Delgar grinned widely.
    Suddenly, a brief movement in the high grasses surrounding the field caught Daegar's eye. Putting his finger to his lips, he motioned Delgar to him. The little boy crept up, and looked where Daegar pointed.
    “Now be very, very quiet, and move very, very slowly,” Daegar hissed, his heart fluttering. Careful not to make a move, lest he send the creature into flight, he pointed again. “You see that?”
    Delgar's eyes widened. A tiny green serpentine head gazed at him evenly from the grass, its beady eyes blinking occasionally. A long forked tongue flickered out, and the drake stretched out its snaking neck. Twin wings flapped for a moment, almost as if the little creature meant to take off, but then it glanced at Delgar and calmed down.
    “It's a grass drake,” Daegar whispered. “You see how it’s perched on that blade of grass? That’s how they sit.”
    “Can I keep him?” Delgar asked loudly, and then put his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide with fear that he would scare it away. The grass drake only looked at him, completely unperturbed.
    “It's a wild animal,” Daegar explained softly, smiling at the innocence of the question. “You can’t keep it as a pet. It’s not right.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because it’s not. You'll understand when you get older.”
    Delgar pouted. “I want to understand now.”
    Daegar smiled and hugged his son. “Some things come with age. Don't worry about it. If you're very still and you're really lucky, he may come closer.”
    Come closer it did. Delgar held out his hand, stepping slowly forward, and the grass drake leapt into the air, landing on his arm. Delgar startled as it turned and looked at him, but the little creature only flicked its tongue at him and settled down contentedly.
    Daegar's eyes widened in disbelief as he knelt down slowly beside his son. “Keep very still,” he cautioned.
    Grinning, the boy looked the grass drake in the eyes. The little creature cooed softly and looked around.
    “Can I keep him?” Delgar asked again, adding quickly: “I’ll take good care of him, and I promise he won’t burn the house down.”
    Daegar shook his head, torn between amusement and wonder. “Remember this moment, but you will have to let him go. It is the way of things.”
    Delgar frowned for a moment, almost heartbreaking disappointment in his eyes. “I don’t like that.”
    “I can’t do anything about it. Wyrd is wyrd.”
    Leaping into the air, the grass drake flew over the fields, every stroke of its wings graceful and stately. Finally, the small creature disappeared back into the tall grasses.
    Daegar hugged his son and smiled, the wondrous moment forever impressed in his memory. “I'll bet that was better than any story.”
    Delgar nodded eagerly. “Can I do it again?”
    “We’ll see,” Daegar mused. “Now, go inside and help mama.”
    As Delgar meandered to the thatched cottage by the fields, waving his arms in the air as though he might take flight like the grass drake, Daegar looked towards the grasses. Incredible, he thought. It was absolutely incredible; not even in the legends had there been an event even remotely like it.