EPILOGUE #2
We have two dogs now. The puppies have all gone to good homes in the fort, loved on by their people.
We still have Stella. Our second dog is an old collie that wants nothing to do with us and spends all his time with the herd, as if they’re his sworn duty to protect.
Rabbit calls him Don Quixote, a name that Jonah came up with.
We make sure he’s fed and comfortable and leave him be.
Murr isn’t in the field, so I turn towards our gardens.
We’ve taken over the massive, overgrown garden that was here and have tried to work it into some sort of shape.
Since it’s summer, the tomatoes and cucumbers are growing wild in the heat, and our peppers are turning colors.
The corn is reaching to the sky and our watermelons…
well, our watermelons look sad, but that’s all right.
The next farm over has peaches and plums, and they’re almost ready for picking.
No Murr in the gardens, either. There’s a cat laying in Dottie’s boxed herb garden, but no dragon.
I head to the barn, and I’m humming the repetitive chorus all over again. It isn’t until it registers what I’m humming that I realize it’s a song in Murr’s head that I’m picking up on.
“When did you learn ‘Tubthumping’ by Chumbawumba?” I call out as I stroll into the barn.
My dragon husband glances back at me, a sheepish expression on his face. “I don’t know. Is it a bad song?”
“Not bad, just surprising.” Rabbit has taught him a few songs, but this one probably comes from Aggie, if I had to wager money. “It’s a song about drinking.”
“Drinking what?” he asks, ever innocent.
God, he’s cute. Even after six months of being mated to him, I’m never tired of looking at him.
I’m never tired of his questions, or his protectiveness, or the way he’s determined to save every stray animal that wanders our way.
It’s like he wants to make sure every creature we find is safe and cared for and has a family, because he knows what it’s like to be alone.
I’m not sure how I got so lucky to get him, but I’ll take it and thank my lucky stars each day.
I move carefully to his side, keeping my steps slow and measured and my hands down. Our newest arrival at our farm is a horse, so skinny you can see every rib. It’s nervous around everyone so far, the whites of its eyes showing as I approach. It prances in the barn stall, eyeing me.
“You’d think he’d be more grateful after a few days of food,” I comment, moving to stand behind Murr and looping my arms around his waist. “This is the grumpiest horse I’ve ever seen.”
“He is scared and used to being hungry. He will calm down once he realizes we are friends,” Murr says, unbothered. He extends a hand towards the horse, palm up. “I brought you food, Pikachu.”
Oh lord. Rabbit’s naming conventions strike again.
Pikachu-the-horse flares his nostrils at Murr’s gentle words and paces in his stall.
There are mounds of fresh grass (courtesy of Murr’s claws) and hay in a bucket for him, cool water, and a bag with cracked corn in it.
We’re giving him small portions at first so he doesn’t make himself sick.
Once we know he’s not diseased, we’ll move him in with the other farm animals.
The books say to keep new animals quarantined for at least a week or two in order to determine if they’re healthy.
“No one will ride you,” my mate croons to the horse. “No one will eat you. You are safe. We have many friends here for you. Be calm.”
The horse snorts at him as if it doesn’t quite believe him, but it calms down a little.
“You are with friends,” Murr continues, keeping his hand out toward the horse. “We will look for your family and bring them here.”
“We will?” I whisper, surprised at this newest revelation. Murr usually flies off in the mornings to find something to eat and to find meat for our cats. Murr doesn’t hunt the herd, because he wants them to trust his presence.
“We will,” he says firmly. “If he has family, we want to find them. We want him to be safe with those he loves.”
My heart squeezes. He’s got such a soft spot for lost animals. “I guess we can go looking for horses today after breakfast.” I’m not sure how we’ll bring them back with us, but one thing at a time.
I’m filled with love for my dragon mate.
Murr is the best person I’ve ever met, human or drakoni.
The kindness in his heart is endless, from the smallest kitten to the largest, crankiest horse.
He never judges them for snapping or hissing.
He simply tries to understand the reasoning behind it and make their lives better.
He’s certainly made mine better. That day we ran into each other in the parking lot changed everything for me.
I’d been so tired of other humans at that point, sick of everyone but my daughter.
Meeting Murr had taught me that I wasn’t dead inside.
That I could still fall in love despite losing faith in my fellow man.
Or maybe it’s because he was a dragon instead of just a man. Him having scales and wings put him in different territory. Teaching him English made us slow down and really think about what the other person was saying, was thinking.
Being with him has changed everything, and I’ve never been happier. I’m even thinking about babies. Maybe not right away, but…I know we’d be safe and protected and always have full bellies, because Murr would never let anything happen to us.
Watching him try to befriend the horse just confirms this for me. I love that he wants to protect everyone and everything he meets. It’s his kindness and generosity that brought us together. If he hadn’t been interested in meeting us that first day, we’d have never gotten where we are.
I’m lucky my dragon loves strays.