Morcilla

There were whispers, of course.
Spreading through the lair from the first cry.
"It was coated in fur?"
"No, No, it was completely scaleless.

The wrongful hopes of an expecting father,
Trying to give his child the best.

He miscalculated.

Mother commanded silence from those who did not know.
Could not know.

They tried to love the child.
It was more curse than child.

It screamed instead of trilling,
Writhed instead of crawled.

It was years before it saw anything but its parents.

The unknowing dragon struck.
It's survival was only due to how it bends and twists beyond laws of reason.

It was impossible to hide the rumors now.

It's skin was scaleless, as it was told.
Soft pink flesh rubbed raw by the ground it walks on.
Eyes too wide, that stare for too long.
Body too stretched, with seeming no end.
Jaw pulled just too far when it opened it's mouth to cry.

It was brought away afterwards.

"Somewhere safe," Mother assured.
"Somewhere far," Father comforted.

It was left in a small dent, carved down into the stone of the wasteland.

"Live well," departed Father.
"Be strong," wished Mother.

An adult if you count the years.
They had never left their nusery walls.

Alone.
Afraid.
They survive.

It's meager and obtained through fright.

A caravan that was already shaken by the untrustworthy landscape.

Supplies abandoned from those already claimed by something unknown.

At night they whimper,
A pitiful cry,
Wishing for the comfort of the quiet they had known.

It was a year before they were found.

Imposing an unafraid, the dragon moved through the landscape.

It watched from the shadows.
But it was watched back.

Pity was the first emotion- as the two met face to face.
The stranger could feel its fear.

The dragon ignore it afterwards.

It was curious, if too much so.

It followed.