[Gift] The 11th Hour | Knitting

Gwen’s poncho had been left draped over a chair as the dragonrider had gone about her business in her den. That was where it lived, day in and day out, easily grabbed and slung on.

Which meant that when it went missing, she knew it hadn’t been misplaced.

It didn’t take long to find—after all, it was bright red. But the lump under it seemed shocked and sheepish to have been discovered. Kilauea peered big dark eyes up at his rider, tufted tail tucked close to his body and fingers hooked in the weave of her poncho, gently pulling at the stitches.

It wasn’t destructive, that much was apparent.

He’d simply wanted to touch, and had no other way except to steal the poncho away when it wasn’t on her person.

Kilauea loved the texture of it, the way his fingers could poke through and tug. He was reluctant to give it back, but Gwen didn’t even have to ask. She just held out a forepaw, and he pulled himself free and gave it back, all the while looking up with pleading eyes as if it might get her to reconsider.

She sighed in a way that made him perk up, certain that he’d be given something, but it took days to manifest: Gwen, by the fire, delicately holding knitting hooks in her hands, a ball of yarn resting by the foot of her chair.

Kilauea stalked it rather like a cat, and she hissed at him before he could start playing with the yarn. He scrambled away, and she laughed, tail twitching behind her. “I’m working on something for you.”

And Kilauea knew whether it was a poncho or just a bit of fabric he could play with himself, he would be delighted with it.