Cormag

It’s a long journey from the Wispwillow Grove to the Everbloom Gardens. Luckily, Cormag did not have to make the trip himself. His ancestors journeyed to the Gladekeeper’s domain long ago, hoping to abandon the gloom and shadows for something brighter. Unfortunately for his clanmates, this Veilspun has inherited some of his elders’ doldrums. Stubborn and cantankerous, he spends much of his time shouting at hatchlings and hiding deep within the brambles. He does not enjoy adventure and excitement, preferring the consistency of a simple life in the glen. He has a penchant for napping, feeding birds, and taking supremely solitary walks where he does not run into a single soul. He secretly softens whenever a magpie lands on his shoulders and begins to chatter. In exchange for seeds and nuts, his avian friends bring him all sorts of shiny trinkets. He doesn’t exactly know what to do with all these items, nor where or how they were acquired. He is certain, however, that it would be rude to refuse such generous offerings. He has slowly begun to accumulate all kinds of sparklies in his lair. The other dragons call him a hoarder. He shoots back that they are far too nosy and should mind their own business. He has not told anyone about the birds. He does not want his private time in the woods to be disturbed.

Cormag’s least favorite clanmate is unequivocally Birch. The two are often at war with one another, with the latter pranking the former and the former attempting to teach the latter a lesson. Birch never learns and Cormag never relents. The two of them are trapped in an endlessly comedic cycle of cat-and-mouse. The closest Cormag ever got to victory over Birch was when the Aberration climbed up a rickety ladder to steal honey from a beehive. The Veilspun, in a spur-of-the-moment decision, removed Birch’s ladder and left the youngster dangling from a tree branch. Cormag threatened to leave him up there unless he promised to never prank him again. Birch, ever the little schemer, managed to negotiate Cormag down to two weeks. Those were two of the most blissful weeks of the ancient dragon’s life. He hopes to someday catch the mushroom-covered menace off guard again so he can barter for a longer period of tranquility.

This crotchety Veilspun is an expert at remaining hidden. He blends in perfectly with the underbrush and has an uncanny ability to hold impeccably still. Some dragons wonder if he ceases to breathe during his sneakiest moments. Much to his chagrin, the hatchlings have begun to play a game called, ‘where’s Cormag.’ Cormag will squirrel himself away someplace to find some peace and quiet. Then, unbeknownst to him, teams of baby dragons will set out to try and find him. When they do, they are incredibly loud in their jubilations. He’ll chase them away brandishing a stick, find their parents, and complain incessantly. The next day, it happens all over again. This elder is certainly stuck in his ways. There is no altering his persnickety habits.

Despite his preference for inaction, he is an incredible hunter. His prey never notices him until it is too late. He always comes home with the most food for the clan. Sharing his spoils is his one kindness to his clanmates. He always wishes to make sure everyone is well-fed. The others figure that deep down— very, very, very deep down— he cares about their well-being. He is also an excellent chef, always providing the perfect amount of seasoning to every meal. Everyone eats plenty when it’s Cormag’s turn for food. He gets a small gleam of pride in his eye as the other dragons announce how much they enjoy his cooking. He even gives Birch extra helpings, after swearing upon his life that nothing is poisoned. Birch explains that he wouldn’t even care if it was because everything tastes so good.

Cormag does not often accept help from other dragons. He would much rather do things on his own. This puts him at odds with Patches, whose goal is to take care of everyone. He is always turning down her freshly baked pies, or her offers to tidy up his lair. He snaps that he absolutely does not need a mother— though there is one gift of hers that he never refuses. Her patchwork quilts are a marvel to behold. Since Cormag is prone to catching a chill in the wintertime, he begrudgingly snatches up the blankets and thrusts jewelry into her hands before she can give him anything else. The jewelry is, of course, courtesy of Cormag’s magpie friends. This grumpy Veilspun knows that he should be kinder to his clanmates, but it’s difficult when they are the cause of so much vexation. He tries his best, and always apologizes for going too far, but it’s doubtful that this mulish dragon will ever change. The others know this and love him for it, despite his very best efforts.