Short Stories The Ancient Owl

This is the story of my child. It was born four years ago, yet never lived. Its mother is my beloved Mary. She is a halfbreed, her mother was human, her father a Tiny Forest Dragon. He left her mother even before Mary's birth, she gave her life for Mary during birth. Mary never had parents, she grew up all on her own.
When we first met, she was not scared of me. She just smiled. It was at this moment that I knew I wanted her and only her to be my partner. I started dating her, as far as it was possible. It was not easy, for me being a dragon and her a halfbreed. And I am not very pretty with my greyish scales and red eyes. Yet Mary accepted me the way I am.
I loved her with my whole heart. I still do. And my love exploded when she got pregnant. But at the same time, I was afraid. Mary was so small, so fragile. I was afraid she wouldn't survive the egglay.
One long year, she carried our egg in her belly, becoming weaker everyday. Then, on a sunny day in march, Mary got into labor. I tried to help as much as I could, and, three hours later, she laid exhausted but happily in our nest, cuddled around her egg. I was the proudest dragon in the whole forest.
Her motherly care was heartwarming. Day and night she looked after the egg, covering it with leaves and branches. I cared for her, brought her food and comforted her in the nights. I wish I would have stayed with her that day.
It was rainy, about three weeks after the egglay. I was out hunting when I heard her scream. I rushed back, but the nest was empty. Blood and egg fluids covered the floor. I called for her, yelled her name in fear. No one answered. I searched the nearby forest and, after hours, found her. She was injured, a foreign dragon had hit her with his clawed paw. She was unconscious and cold. I breathed some warm air at her tiny body, hoping to keep her alive. I did not dare bringing her back to the nest; I was too clumsy and might hurt her even more. I just laid down next to her, heating the fire inside my belly to keep her warm. My wings shielded her from the rain, protected her. The other dragon did not return. Neither of our egg. I feared that it broke in the nest, killing our child. But I hoped. Hoped for it to be alive, somewhere out there.
Night fell, and Mary showed no sign of awakening. I decided it would be best to carry her home. The bleeding had stopped, her breathing was stable. It was now or never. I rose, grabbed her tightly but carefully and carried her home.
It was even more awful when we returned. I slowly put her down and tidied up the nest. If I could cry, tears would have flown down my snout.
I picked Mary up again and placed her in the nest. Then I climbed in and protected her, warmed her, comforted her.
Two days passed and nothing changed. I had nightmares of losing her, too, woke up panically, just to find her safe in my paws. The third day, Mary opened her eyes. And then, she screamed. I bent my neck, trying to embrace her, to tell her she was safe. Mary collapsed, crying. She asked where her egg was. Pain struck my heart. She repeated the question. I told her it was gone, dead, killed. She started crying again and climbed out of the nest. She fell onto the floor but continued to crawl forward. I jumped and held her back. She screamed that she must find our egg, must keep it safe. I growled in agony and brought her back into the nest. I tried to tell her it was dead, but she wouldn't listen. She wanted to search it. I knew it was dead. But I said I would look for it. She smiled, then fell asleep. I covered her with some leaves and left to look for our egg. I had no hope finding it. The fluids in our nest were proof enough, but even if it had survived, without the mother's warmth it was sure to die within hours. It had been out there for three days.
My sanity told me it was gone, my child had been killed, but I kept looking. Then, close to midnight, I found a broken dragon's egg shell. It still had the faint smell of Mary's skin. I cried out in agony, took the shell and returned to the nest.
Mary was still asleep, clutching branches just like she did with the egg. It broke my heart. I crawled up next to her and warmed her cold skin with my belly. She woke up and asked for the egg. Her eyes lightened up as I nodded, and she glanced around the nest. Mary saw the broken shell and collapsed crying. I tried to comfort her, but she yelled at me. She refused to beliefe this was hers. She told me to look for our child. I agreed. I knew she would go insane without her egg.
I flew to the mountains, without any intention. I found a stone, barely egg-shaped. Following my instincts, I bathed it in fire, licked it into the right shape, and imprinted my heat into it.
Mary instantly accepted it. She cried and hugged the egg, kissing my snout. I embraced her with my wings.
It stayed like this for the last four years. Mary cares for her egg and never leaves it. She sewed a bag for it and carries it around. Whenever she loses sight of it, she goes mad and only calms down if it is back in her arms. Deep inside her heart she knows it's just a stone. But my beloved Mary keeps it. She cares for it as her own child. Maybe forever.