How to Train Your Dragon: The Pony Edition

Glendrel awoke as the brilliant light of the morning sun fell across his face. He grumbled a little and pulled one wing up to block the offending light. He wasn’t ready to get up yet, preferring to lounge a bit longer in the soft nest of pine boughs he had made the night before. But the sudden rumbling of his empty stomach reminded him that it had been several days since he had last eaten. He grumbled once more in annoyance before rising slowly to his haunches and stretching his ebony wings to their fullest, giving them a few gentle flaps to get the circulation going.

He started to head for the stream a short distance from where he slept to quench his thirst when he heard the distant, but unmistakable bellowing of wild bulls challenging one another over position within the herd. It was too early in the year for the rut to begin, so he guessed that it must have be a bachelor band.  Older, more experienced bulls knew better than to draw such attention to themselves without at least the possibility of fathering the next generation. A hungry Dragon was not the only possible danger to prowl the grasslands that bordered the forest, even if it was the greatest.

Once again Glendrel stomach reminded him of its desire to be filled and he smiled to himself.  It had been a long time since he had hunted wild cattle and the thought of a herd so close (as the Dragon flies) was enough to make his mouth water. In eager anticipation he spread his great wings and took to the sky.

The air was chill, but the sun quickly warmed the Dragon’s black scales so he took his time locating the bachelor band.   Even so, it didn’t take long before he spotted them. The two largest bulls were pawing the ground with sharp hooves as they squared off against one another. Glendrel  flew a little higher to ensure the herd would not sense his presence overhead while he contemplated his next move. Some Dragons preferred to use magic to hide their approach and others chose to hit their quarry with a burst of Dragon's fire for a quick kill. Glendrel preferred the thrill of the chase, allowing him prey the opportunity to try and elude him as they might elude a lesser predator.  Granted that meant he risked missing a tasty meal should he quarry make it to the shelter of the forest, but the satisfaction he always felt for a successful hunt made the risk worthwhile and when the time came for the kill he always made certain that it was quick and painless.

From his vantage point high above the valley, Glendrel observed the distribution of the herd.  While another Dragon may have chosen to take advantage of the situation and strike at the pair battling for dominance he preferred to leave those two alone. They were obviously the strongest of the herd and would provide the greatest challenge to hunt, but they also provided the best opportunity for the future welfare of the wild cattle that inhabited these mountain pastures. So he decided to study the rest of the herd to locate a more opportune target and began to circle around to the far end of the valley where they had gathered.

This was a very diverse group he noticed, composed of those obviously just driven from the main herd to those older bulls who were no longer strong enough to defend a breeding harem of their own. He was beginning to think that one of these older bulls might be a better choice for a meal, as their loss would have the smallest impact on the overall health of the valley’s cattle population. The older bulls, while not quite as tasty or tender as the younger bulls, had already had an opportunity to prove their worthiness as sires and might even be the fathers of the pair currently fighting for supremacy at the other end of the valley.

A loud bellow from the two embattled bulls caused him to turn and look back up the valley. One of the pair had succeeded in knocking the other off his feet and was tossing his head in triumph while the other struggled to right himself. Suddenly the victor lowered his great head and charged his fallen foe. The speed of the attack was impressive and the thud of impact could be heard even over the scream of pain voiced by the defeated bull as he was viciously gored in the side.   Caught up in the heat of battle the victor continued to swing his horns back and forth as he began stomping his opponent with his front hooves, his horns dripping blood and trailing bits of flesh torn from the side of his rival. Only when the fallen bull lay still did the other finally cease his attack. With a final bellow of triumph, the victorious bull left his rival where he lay and trotted over to a nearby stream where he quickly began to wallow in the cold water in an effort to wash the blood from his own hide, lest he attract the attention of any predators in the area . . . like a hungry Dragon, perhaps.

Glendrel started to chuckle to himself at the irony of the champion's actions when movement from the defeated bull caught his attention. Surly he couldn’t still be alive after the sever beating he had taken? He made a quick dive at the herd to scatter it before turning back to where the mortally injured bull lay bleeding. As he came to a gentle landing he could hear the wheezing breath of the poor creature as its punctured lungs struggled to fill with air. So lost in his pain and the instinct to rise to his feet in spite of that pain the bull didn’t even notice the Dragon who quietly settled down next to him.

Reaching deep within he called upon his inborn magic and cast a spell of sleep over the bull to ease his passage into death. The futile attempts to rise ceased and the labored breathing slowed until it, too, finally stopped. As Glendrel watched, the light slowly faded from the eyes of the bull as its life came to an end. Again, the Dragon reached for his magic and shifted his vision so he could see into the spirit realm. There was the spirit of the bull standing next to him, his head held high and proud . . . his body whole and strong again. Assured that all was well with his spirit, he started to return to normal vision when suddenly the air shimmered and a graceful white cow appeared. Her hide was as pure as newly fallen snow and the sense of “presence” Glendrel felt told him this was no ordinary being. The cow walked over to the spirit of the bull and gently nuzzled his neck and shoulder before turning to look at a very startled Dragon.

“Thank you for your compassion, Dragon,” She said. “There are not many who would show such to one of My children in their last moments, even amongst themselves. And while I bear no animosity toward anyone for that, I wanted you to know that your actions were noted . . . and are appreciated.” With that She turned to the bull once more and the pair slowly faded from sight, like smoke blown away on the wind.

Well, this definitely wasn’t the hunt I had in mind when I woke up this morning, Glendrel thought to himself. He wasn’t so much surprised to learn that wild cattle apparently had a goddess all their own as he was stunned that said goddess would take the time to speak to a Dragon. Shifting his vision back to normal sight he looked at the abandoned carcass of the fallen bull. He wasn't sure what to make of what just happened or what he should do next. As he contemplated just cremating the carcass and leaving the herd behind, he caught the faint sound of a bull’s courting call carried across the wind and the image of the white Cow Goddess flashed briefly across his mind’s eye leaving him with a clear impression of “waste not, want not.”

Taking the hint, Glendrel could not help but laugh at himself before settling down to enjoy his breakfast.