Breeder Job Promotion | Muriel

Muriel realized something had gone terribly wrong when the screaming started in the western stable. Not frightened screaming, excited screaming. The male incubus dropped the grooming brushes he had been organizing and sprinted across the polished stone aisle of the stable. His black wings snapped open behind him as another loud crash echoed through the building.

“Oh no.” He rounded the corner and stopped dead. Feathers drifted through the air like snow. One of the expensive saddle racks had collapsed sideways. Blankets were scattered across the floor. A water trough had somehow overturned completely and standing proudly in the middle of the disaster was Mora. The purple hatchling puffed out her chest while balancing atop the broken rack like a queen surveying conquered territory. “I climbed it,” she announced smugly.

“I can see that,” Muriel replied weakly. A loud wet splat interrupted him. He glanced behind him slowly to spot Salem. The strange red hatchling sat happily inside an exploded sack of oats, she shifted a little and further gooped onto her prize. She chirped excitedly the moment she spotted Muriel and bounded toward him, leaving oat stained footprints across the floor. Muriel braced himself as Salem collided lovingly into his legs. “Yes, hello to you too,” he laughed tiredly, patting her dripping head. Nearby, Reene crouched beneath a bench with her wings wrapped tightly around herself. The dark blue hatchling trembled every time another loud noise echoed through the stable.

“It’s alright, little star,” Muriel soothed gently. “Nobody’s angry.” Reene peeked out nervously. Something hissed overhead and Muriel slowly looked upward. Creasha clung upside down to the wooden ceiling beams like a gargoyle, glaring down at everyone with open irritation.

“How,” Muriel asked softly, “did you get up there?” Creasha narrowed her eyes, clearly she had no intention of explaining herself. She had wings yes but he wasn’t aware she was big enough to use them quite yet. Muriel pinched the bridge of his nose. Riders occasionally needed someone trustworthy to care for young dragons before they could fully dedicate themselves to companionship. Muriel had happily accepted responsibility for the siblings months ago. Usually they were manageable individually. But together? Together they became a natural disaster. He hoped as they got older they’d learn to behave better.

“Mora,” Muriel called calmly, “Please stop encouraging Salem.” The bratty hatchling immediately pointed at another saddle rack. “Salem,” she whispered loudly, “climb that one.”

“Do not—”

Too late. Salem launched herself across the stable with horrifying enthusiasm. The saddle rack tipped instantly. Muriel lunged forward and barely caught it before several expensive saddles crashed into the floor. Salem blinked at him innocently from halfway up the structure.

“You cannot climb everything,” Muriel informed her, turning to glare half-heartedly at Mora. Salem licked his cheek. “Thank you,” he sighed. Behind him came another crash. Muriel turned to see Mora dangling triumphantly from a curtain rope while Reene panicked beneath her.

“She’s gonna fall!” Reene squeaked.

“I am not,” Mora snapped back and as if hearing the little hatchlings declaration, the rope snapped. Mora dropped directly into a pile of hay with a startled screech. Muriel stared at the ceiling for several long seconds while questioning every decision he had made in life. Then Creasha suddenly dropped from the rafters. The teal hatchling landed neatly beside him before stalking toward her siblings with visible annoyance. She disliked most people, tolerated Muriel specifically, and often acted like the only sane creature in existence. She smacked Salem lightly with her tail when the red hatchling tried chewing one of the saddles.

“Honestly,” Muriel muttered, “You might be the only responsible one.” Creasha looked at him for quite a long while, head tilting as if she wasn’t sure if he was being truthful or not and for a while they just stood watching each other. The peace lasted approximately two minutes. There was another loud crash and Muriel turned to see the saddle rack he had saved was not lying broken on the ground, Mora grinning happily atop the wreckage. Yes. He had absolutely bitten off more than he could chew.