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The Golden Goat (Part 3) v5
By StickyScribbles
Three weeks earlier, the fairy economy in the Whispering Woods was booming. Local fairies had grown plump on stolen goat honey and cream. While a bustling casino found its sweet home inside an abandoned badger den. There, glowing tooth-dice rattled softly across a velvet toadstool.
They never heard the scales scraping until the cavern went black.
The dragon didn’t roar. It simply exhaled a plume of smoke that charred the dice. Under its colossal claw, a particularly round tooth fairy squeaked. Across the table, the local Sandman didn’t even blink, yawning through a haze of stardust as if a mountain had just dropped into his living room.
“Fix me,” the dragon growled, eyes bloodshot and twitching. “Or you both become a light snack.”
The Sandman blinked sleepily. “Can’t force a mind that won’t quiet down, scaled friend. But I happen to know who’s been selling your coordinates to the horned ones…”
(Jump to the present, after the volcanic showdown)
The irony was agonizing.
Its kin were gone. The mountain was a smoking crater. The goats had retreated. The dragon finally had a quiet night and still could not sleep. Every time it drifted off, the wind through the ash sounded like approaching hooves. BAA. It snapped awake, claws tearing at the dirt. The memory of those relentless hooves had broken the most terrifying beast in the nine kingdoms. Desperate, it hauled itself back down to the hollow roots of the Whispering Woods and cornered the Sandman. The terrified, plump fairies were stuffed into an empty honey jar like oversized marbles.
“Fix me,” the dragon rasped, “or I will crush the jar.”
The Sandman was too tired to be terrified. He yawned, curled into a soft ball on the forest floor, and murmured, “Simple, really. Close your eyes, breathe, and start counting goats—err, sheep…”
The word goats sent a fresh wave of panic through the dragon’s scales. It nearly tore the root system apart before the Sandman lazily tossed a pinch of glowing blue dust into the air.
A heavy calm washed over the beast.
“My apologies,” the Sandman sighed, brushing dust from his coat. “Sustainable deep sleep for a creature of your scale needs a heavy dose of sweet dreams. And to make sweet dreams, a caster needs a lot of sugar.” He turned out empty pockets and tapped the glass of the fairy-filled jar. “Supply chain is dead. The fairies ate all the profits.” The dragon stared at the jar, then at the Sandman. A slow but terrifying smile crept across its smoke-stained maw.
“Don’t worry. Soon the goats will build me a grand temple overflowing with rivers of honey. You help me sleep forevermore. I’ll keep your little friends alive and well-fed.” The Sandman looked at the dragon, then at the trapped fairies glaring from the jar, and shrugged. A grumpy, sleep-deprived dragon could incinerate the forest with a sneeze. Steady work, job security, and unlimited honey wasn’t a bad deal at all.
He extended a sleepy hand. A bargain was struck.
(Part 1):
https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2658372
(Part 2):
https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2677041
(Part 3):
https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2677043
(Part 4):
https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2704926
(Part 5):
