Swishie

The child nobody wants to deal with, but they can't be left alone either, so some poor sod is always saddled with the duty one way or another. This juvenile Aberration is an embodiment of chaos, constantly streaking throughout the lair at top speed; if the shrill cry of its twin heads doesn't herald its presence, the cacophonous clatter of overturned furniture and uprooted dirt that is sure to follow most certainly will. The only mercy dragons may have from the mass of necks and tails and fluff is when the hatchling becomes distracted by its own chaotically writhing body, opting to chase its tails frantically for minutes on end. But this is only a brief reprieve before the chaos resumes.

They sleep, sometimes, having worn themselves out from all their play, but it is without warning - one minute they can be a whirling dervish of lair-destruction and eardrum-rupturing, the next they are conked out in a crumbled pile on the floor, posed as though someone had sneakily flipped an 'off' switch in one of the hatchling's heads. When they sleep, nobody dares touch them, no matter how in the way their snoozing body may be; the quiet is precious, so everybody works around the comatose furball to avoid bringing chaos back down upon themselves prematurely.