Life! It’s hard enough even when it doesn’t go wrong. What did I do wrong? I thought as I watched my little tormentor sleep with one slitted red eye open. The kitten-sized fiery-coloured dragon had hatched last week in the dark, musty cave, and it still had not responded to me. Well, if I counted her nearly biting my thumb off as a response, she had, but there was no real bond between us. And that was not a good thing. After all, my mother did have the ‘touch’ and I was supposed to have it too, but I was definitely not so sure that I had it just then.

“Ow!” I exclaimed as the dragon decided to wake up and bite me. “Alright, I guess you’re hungry. What would you like today?”

The dragonet eyed my thumb hungrily.

“No, you can’t have my thumb. I need it to be attached to my body, not in your stomach.”

Her tiny wings drooped and her eyes became big and sorrowful; her pupils dilating.
Was that a response? I thought. I reached out to stroke her and was rewarded with another bite. I guess not.

The dragon hissed at me; her teeth bared and wings raised.

“Yes, I love you too,” I told her.

She just hissed at me. Again.

“What do you want?”

The dragon gave what I thought was a sigh and flew to my shoulder. “Name Game?” she asked.

“What?” I asked incredulously. I hope that was her response, one of the rarer ones, but still, a response.

“Name Game?” she asked again.

“Alright, what about: ‘Dragona’?”

“That was silly name. Want better one,” the dragonet insisted.

“Nograd?”

“No. Want beautiful name.”

And a dragon’s definition of beauty is...? “What about ‘Xylia’?”

“No, hard to say.”

“‘Zaria’?”

“First sound is difficult for me to make.”

That was true enough; fire-dragon’s mouths were made for breathing fire, not speaking. I kept thinking.

“Hurry!” the unnamed dragon said insistently.

“I’m trying, little one. What about: ‘Arianrhod?’”

“Beautiful name, but it’s not right.” The dragonet’s grammar was improving after a few minutes of speech.

Why can’t humans learn that fast? I thought. “Never mind, that’s my name and it would be confusing if we had the same name. What about ‘Aethelfled?’”

“I like it, but it’s too long,” she said carefully.

“Well, your name could be ‘Aelflaed.’ What do you think?”
“‘Aelflaed, Aelflaed,” the dragonet said. “I suppose you could call me ‘Elfla’ for short?”

“Yes, if you want to be called ‘Elfla.’”

“My name is Aelflaed, and I am very hungry. Will you feed me?”

“Of course. You know, I’ve always wanted to feed my own dragon.”

“Arianrhod, your name is Arianrhod, right?”

I nodded. She’s observant.

“Arianrhod, you have it wrong. I am not your dragon. You are my carer-human. A dragon is owned by no one.”

I rolled my eyes. Fire dragons needed lots of training; they got an extra dose of stubbornness when they hatched.