The burrow of kobolds found a nest of dragon eggs. The nest was still very warm, but the parent was not returning, as a cruel person that other humans were calling a "hero" had killed them. They took in these eggs to care for them, to raise them, those false "heroes" would not get their hands on these children, ever. Not if the borrow had anything to say of it! -- Anon Guest
Heroism is relative. For every victorious vanquisher of an 'evil' monster, there's a victim who left behind family and loved ones. For example, a mother who left behind a clutch of unhatched children.
The Hero got accolades for slaying the rampaging dragon, and hauling away as much treasure as he and his horse could drag back down the mountain. They made a statue of him, and some proclaimed him as a saint. But that's a different story.
This is the story of a nest, and the creatures who took in the foundlings there.
Everyone knew that the world was first made for Dragons, by Dragons. That's why there's so many Dragonkindred species out there. There's the big ones who are the most obvious. Naturally. Then there's smaller varieties of Drakes and Wyrms before the more humanoid Drakkonbred. Below them in size... are Kobolds.
There's also Microdragons and Faerie dragons, but that's not important to this tale.
The burrow liked their Dragon, and excavated gemstones and minerals for her hoard. They shared the heat of the volcanic vent for their clutches. They were there when Redreach fell to a Hero's sword.
They were there for her clutch.
Dragon eggs are small, and their shells are as hard as granite. Some are shiny enough to be mistaken for unique gemstones. These were dull and blended in with the rocks of Redreach's lair. Which was a good thing for the unborn dragonlings.
Which were only slightly smaller than a full-grown Kobold when they hatched. Blind, toothless, wobbling like kittens. The warren set to work. slaughtering and chewing up the meat from the cattle Redreach had already taken alive. Delivering the resulting bloody mash to the mewling babies.
Every day they survived was a miracle.
A dozen baby dragons lived. Some might argue that preserving such lives was just as heroic as slaying a monster. The Kobolds certainly believed it. The effort certainly took more time and fortitude than merely killing something.
Violence oft begets more violence. The cycle of revenge is an ouroborous that can only grow larger. Only Kobolds, who have seen and kept the wisdom of their previous lives, have recognised this. Many who are familiar with Kobolds are wont to name them cowards because of this.
They understood that the rest of the world had a lot to learn. Starting with the infant Dragons.
They heard the Kobold songs of legend and lore. They heard the songs of Redreach, and her demise at the hands of a Human.
"Everyone fights for their own existence," added the nurse-singer. "The human fought Redreach because she was anxious to have food for you, and she hunted too fast and too close. We do not blame Redreach for her reason. We do not blame the Humans for their reaction. We blame other things. Impatience. Greed. Anger. We must avoid those to share in life with love."
None there knew it, but that was the dawn of the age of interspecies reason... and the beginning of the end of the Xenophobia wars.
They would take millennia to finally peter out, but this was just the beginning.
Beginnings are always very small things.
[Photo by Marcin Szefka on Unsplash]
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