The large, intricately patterned egg was warm to touch. It didn't burn his skin, but it was warm enough that he could almost fall asleep on it, were it not so hard. He pressed his head to the side of it, and heard a gentle 'thump-thump'. Though only a few years old, the boy knew that that was a heartbeat. He knew something was alive. He pulled back, hands still pressed against its shell. What on earth could have laid this…?

Bartholomew looked around, bright green eyes confused. This flame red egg, somewhat reminiscent of his brothers' fire red hair, was in the middle of a clearing. It must have rolled out; it wasn't snuggled safely in a nest, and surely the mother knew better than to lay it where it didn't stick out like a sore thumb. To him, it was no more than a lost lamb. Well, besides the fact it wasn't fidgety, and it didn't bleat and complain when he didn't shower it with attention…

Which is exactly what his pet was doing now. He sighed, and leant on the egg, careful not to shift it too much. He slid to the ground, and his sheep immediately crawled into his lap. Well, he wasn't going to leave the unborn whatever it is to its own devices! As hard as the shell may be, there's bound to be something that could hurt it!

So then, with childish determination, he decided to wait by the egg, until its mummy found it. He remained unfazed, even as the sun began to kiss the tops of the trees. A natural at magic, he simply conjured a floating flame to keep him, his lamb, and the egg warm. He shifted through the colours he was able to conjure up, before he was satisfied with a ruby red colour. It had no yellow, or orange in the middle, it was purely red. And when the night blanketed over him, he still expressed no fear. Rather, he welcomed the silence, for it was a great change from his normally boisterous family.

Bartholomew didn't realize he had drifted to sleep, until he had awoken. His lamb thrashed in his arms, bleating as it was consumed in a craze. He gently set it off him, and got to his feet. It promptly cowered behind him. He had noticed that the flame had dimmed, and the night was no longer just night. It was a wall of darkness, and even the woeful moon could not penetrate with its sharp silver rays.

He chanced a glance to his back. The egg was as it had been. Satisfied, he turned back, still unable to see anything. He forced his already existing flame to shine brighter, and form a ring around him and his charges. It would do naught but protect them only very little from whatever was threatening them. And it was causing him to exploit too much of his mana. Using attacking spell was not in his nature, and nor was it within his abilities. If he tried, he could very well kill himself, and that was if he was lucky. It was strange that someone as young as him knew his own capabilities, and cared not to over exceed them…

Now he felt a very strong presence, not as strong as his mother's, but one that definitely outmatched him. His mother had told him that if he had found himself cornered like this, to simply run. But an egg had no legs to run on, and he had already sworn to himself that he would not abandon it.

He jolted when he felt something slam against his fiery defence. It had rammed itself against a burst of flame the shot up from the ring. It had shaken him as well, and whatever had attacked him knew that. After a large pause, a volley of attacks showered him from all sides.

He gasped. He had never actually 'fought' before. His magic was all solely done in practice. It was emptying him of his impressive store of mana very quickly. Yet he remained standing, muttering incantations to hold the wall of fire in place. He was getting so dizzy…

An ear-splitting roar shook the earth, and probably heavens along with it. Bartholomew was shocked, but steadfastly kept the spell strong, or at least as strong he could. Yet there was no need, the attacks had stopped. An ungodly screech ripped the air, and all of a sudden the stars twinkled back to life, and the moon shyly peeked at him from behind the musty clouds.

Too exhausted to even think, Bartholomew just fell to the grass. He was vaguely aware of a loud thud, like a tree crashing to the ground, and the sound of his lamb braying in panic as it tugged on his clothes, but he thought nothing of it. He slipped into cold, empty, nothingness.

~o~

Once he came to, he felt not grass under his fingers, but rock. His mind was in a drugged state, still not having replenished all the magic he had wasted. He felt a slobbery lick to the side of his face, and frowned, as he pushed the offender away. At first, he had thought it had been his little lamb, but his logic slowly returned to him. His lamb's tongue was only so small, and it would have been soft and fluffy to touch…

He jolted up, immediately regretting it. He had surpassed his capacity in magic so much, that not only had his mind suffered, but as had the rest of his body. After that sudden movement, he couldn't move an inch. Not that he needed to.

Even without his pain, he would have been frozen. His forest green eyes had met with sharp gold ones. About the size of the egg he had fought so hard to defend, was the creature in front of him, sitting like an expectant dog. Albeit a scaly, red, and winged dog. It swished its spiked tail, as it waited for him to move, shuffling its freakishly sharp claws on the ground beneath them. It made a squeaky sound, and proceeded to move towards him. Bartholomew didn't, or at least couldn't move. From what he saw, he could only conclude one thing. That this was a dragon, as his mother had told them so aptly about in many of her tales.

To his surprise, it was more docile than in her tales too. It nuzzles against his chest, a gesture that would normally make him smile, if it were not of its sharp scales, or the horned on its forehead. He flinched back, and held the creatures head.

"Careful…" he said softly, but firmly. The dragon hatchling made a whiny noise, but didn't try to force itself upon him again. Instead it waited, once again. Bartholomew regarded it for a moment, before affectionately rubbing its head, as he would do with his sheep. It hurt his hand a bit, but the hatchling's low purr made him feel warm inside.

A deep growl caught his attention. He turned his attention to the stacks of rocks in front of him, and perched on them was a dragon almost a hundred times bigger that the hatching. Well. How had he not noticed that? It must have been its mother. Bartholomew wasn't as scared as he knew he should have been. After all, if he had posed a threat at all to her or her baby, he would already have been dead.

The mother unfurled its wings, and lifted herself from her perch. The boy watched as she lazily drifted down to her. The hatchling simply continued to nuzzle into his hand, content sounds coming from its throat. It landed in front of him, a strong gust of air making him bend back at bit. She looked down at him with her age old amber eyes. The look she gave him wasn't hostile, but he couldn't help but shiver. It was like she stared into his soul, examining all of his existence.

Finally, to his surprise, she bent down in a crude bow. He supposed that this was the only way she could thank him. After all, what could a dragon offer a human? He gave her a gentle smile, and with manners of a person way beyond his age, struggled to his feet, and returned her bow. The great beast seemed pleased. The glint of approval in her eyes had assured him of her favour. Not that the youth had any intention of winning it in the first place. Courtesy was simply etched into his being.

Bartholomew blinked as the hatchling made noises as it was being ignored by him. The mother huffed, slightly annoyed. Before Bartholomew could properly return his attention to the baby, it had launched itself on him. He was winded by it, but he burst into laughter, as it excitedly licked his face.

"Stop, stop!" he squealed, not liking the concept of being soaked in slobber. Thankfully it did, but it gave him a disdainful look. He giggled, and rubbed its head again, and wrapped his other arm around its neck in an awkward and slightly smarting embrace. Something bloomed in his heart, similar to the feeling he had when he had first met and cared for his orphaned lamb. After a dark and painful, yet interesting experience, and a mind blowing discovery, he knew something more special than special had just occurred.