Days passed after Felix's encounter with the small dragon, but the memory stayed vivid in his mind. The dragon had lingered for just a few minutes before it vanished into the forest's depths, yet that brief meeting had kindled something within Felix—something he couldn't name. Every day since, he'd returned to the clearing, hoping to see the dragon again. He knew it was foolish. Dragons were elusive, and taming one was rare and dangerous. Yet, despite himself, he felt a pull to the little creature, a fragile sense of purpose he hadn't known before.
But his time in the forest didn't go unnoticed. Felix's absences began drawing scorn from the villagers. They called him useless, a dreamer with his head in the clouds, and accused him of shirking work for foolish fantasies. The cruelty cut deep, but Felix had learned to keep his head down and endure, his heart armored by years of loneliness.
One morning, as he moved through the marketplace, Felix noticed the usual glares and whispers. "There he is, the boy who spends his days chasing shadows," someone muttered. Another woman scoffed, "Out there again, playing in the woods while the rest of us work."
Felix said nothing, pushing forward, when a rough hand clamped onto his shoulder. He turned to see Dorian, the town's blacksmith, towering over him with a sneer. "Tell me, Felix," Dorian rumbled, "what are you doing out there every day? Not scheming with beasts, I hope?"
Felix looked down, biting back the words he wished he could say. "I just… like the forest," he managed quietly, knowing it would never satisfy Dorian.
Dorian scoffed, giving Felix a rough shove that nearly sent him sprawling. "Freak," he spat. "If it were up to me, boys like you would be sent to earn their keep. There's no room for dreamers here."
Felix didn't bother to respond. The bitterness of his isolation had become a familiar companion, his only solace being the thought of the little dragon he'd met. It was as if he could still feel the dragon's curious gaze, the faint warmth of its presence lingering in his mind like a whisper.
That night, unable to shake his frustration and the aching loneliness, Felix stole away to the forest once more. The wind was colder, and the trees cast long, skeletal shadows, but he felt safer here than he ever did in the village. In the clearing, he knelt down, letting out a long, shaky breath. "I wish you'd come back," he murmured, his voice nearly swallowed by the dark. "I just… need someone who understands."