**The House with the Dragon-Sized Door**
The first thing Jukrit noticed about Riverside Market was the noise. After weeks of mountain silence and forest whispers, the bustling trade town felt like being inside a beehive. The second thing he noticed was Noraxia's tension.
She'd shifted to her four-legged form for the journey down, but now she hesitated at the town's edge, her golden eyes scanning the crowded streets.
"We could come back another day," Jukrit offered from his perch on her shoulders.
"No." She took a steadying breath. "We talked about this. About having a home. I'm not going to let old fears stop us."
"The offer stands if you change your mind."
She nuzzled him gently with her muzzle. "I know. That's why I won't need it."
They'd sent word ahead to a property agent named Mira Thornbrook, who'd agreed to meet them at the town square fountain. Jukrit spotted her easily—a middle-aged badger woman with a no-nonsense air, clipboard in hand, scanning the crowd.
"Ms. Thornbrook?" Jukrit called out as Noraxia approached.
The badger's eyes landed on them, and her expression went through several rapid changes: confusion, wariness, then settling into professional courtesy directed solely at Jukrit.
"Ah, you must be Master Jukrit, the healer. I received your letter about the property near the healer's quarter." She pointedly ignored Noraxia. "I must say, I'm impressed you made the journey from the mountains. That's quite a trek for someone your size. Your... pack beast looks sturdy enough though."
The silence that followed could have frozen the fountain.
"My partner," Jukrit said carefully, "is not a pack beast."
Mira blinked. "Your partner in... the healing business? I wasn't aware you had an assistant. The letter mentioned only—"
"My romantic partner," Noraxia said, her voice rumbling from her draconic form. "And I can speak for myself."
The badger's clipboard clattered to the cobblestones. "It... you... you can talk?"
"Most people can." Noraxia's tone was mild, but Jukrit felt her muscles tense beneath him. "It's a relatively common skill."
"I meant no offense!" Mira scrambled for her clipboard. "It's just... I've never... that is to say..." She took a breath, clearly trying to regain her professional composure. "My apologies. You're here to view the property on Willow Ridge Lane, correct? The one with the, ah, larger entrance?"
"The dragon-sized door, yes," Jukrit confirmed. "Is that going to be a problem?"
"No! No, of course not. I pride myself on serving all clients equally." Mira's ears were pink with embarrassment. "Shall we... shall we go see it?"
The walk through town drew stares. Jukrit had expected that. What he hadn't expected was Noraxia's dignified composure, her head held high as she navigated the streets. Once, she might have shrunk from the attention. Now she met curious gazes with calm acknowledgment.
"You're doing wonderfully," he murmured.
"They're not chasing me with pitchforks, so I'm calling it progress."
The property sat at the edge of town where Riverside Market gave way to forested hills. Willow Ridge Lane was less a lane and more a winding path through increasingly dense woods. When they rounded the final bend, Jukrit's breath caught.
The house itself was modest—stone and timber construction, two stories with a steep roof. But what made it special was immediately obvious: the main entrance was indeed dragon-sized, an archway that would accommodate Noraxia in any form. And the land...
"Four wooded acres," Mira announced, recovering some of her professional pride. "The property includes mature oaks, a spring-fed stream along the western boundary, and that barn you see there." She pointed to a weathered but solid-looking structure behind the main house.
Noraxia shifted to her anthropomorphic form to get a better look. "It's beautiful."
"The previous owner was a collector," Mira continued. "Died six months ago, no heirs. The estate is eager to sell. Shall we look inside?"
The dragon-sized door opened into a entrance hall that immediately explained its necessity. The previous owner hadn't just been a collector—they'd been a hoarder on a spectacular scale.
Every surface was buried under decades of accumulated objects. Furniture was stacked upon furniture. Boxes were piled to the ceiling. What might have been a beautiful great room was instead a labyrinth of narrow pathways between towers of belongings.
"As I mentioned, it needs some cleaning," Mira said weakly.
"Some?" Noraxia picked up what appeared to be a taxidermied fish wearing a tiny hat. "This is... extensive."
They explored carefully, squeezing through passages barely wide enough for Jukrit, let alone Noraxia in either form. The second floor was more of the same—bedrooms so full of stuff that the beds themselves were barely visible.
"The structure is sound," Mira insisted. "The estate had it inspected. New roof five years ago, solid foundation, no water damage despite the stream. It just needs clearing out."
"Just," Noraxia echoed, staring at a pile of mismatched shoes that reached her waist.
But as they continued exploring, Jukrit began to see past the clutter. The great room had south-facing windows perfect for growing herbs. The second bedroom would make an excellent dedicated healing space. And that kitchen, once cleared, was bigger than anywhere they'd ever stayed.
They stepped outside to see the rest of the property. The barn drew Noraxia immediately.
"Oh," she breathed.
Unlike the house, the barn was relatively empty—just some old hay bales and farming equipment. But it was spacious, well-ventilated, and had clearly been built with larger creatures in mind.
"Previous owner kept goats," Mira said. "And apparently one rather large ox."
Noraxia walked to the center, then shifted to her four-legged form. Even in that shape, the barn had room for her to move comfortably. "I could stay in here," she said quietly. "On nights when I need space to shift. Or when the house feels too small."
"You don't have to sleep in a barn," Jukrit protested.
"Not have to. Want to, sometimes." She shifted back to her anthropomorphic form. "My kind need space occasionally. Room to stretch wings we don't have anymore, to remember what we were. This would be... perfect for that."
They walked the property together while Mira waited by the house. The four acres were everything Jukrit had hoped for—old growth trees, soft moss, a riot of wild herbs growing along the stream. Places where Noraxia could fly in her four-legged form without being seen. Places where Jukrit could gather and cultivate the plants he needed for healing.
"It's a disaster inside," Noraxia said, but her tone was thoughtful rather than discouraged.
"It is," Jukrit agreed.
"It would take months to clear out."
"At least."
"We'd have to hire carts to haul away the junk. Maybe burn some of it."
"Probably."
She looked at him. "You want it anyway, don't you?"
"The stream has valerian growing wild. And you saw those willows? Perfect for pain remedies. The soil is rich enough to grow anything. The barn gives you your own space. The house is structurally sound and has that perfect south exposure." He paused. "But mostly, I can see us here. Actually see us. Morning tea by those windows. You napping in that barn on summer afternoons. Patients coming up the path for healing. Our life, not just our travels."
Noraxia was quiet for a long moment. Then: "The great room could have a fireplace big enough for both of us."
"The kitchen could fit a table where we could cook together."
"That upstairs bedroom with the corner windows would be perfect for your drying herbs."
"The barn could have curtains. And comfortable cushions."
They looked at each other and started laughing.
"We're really going to do this, aren't we?" Noraxia asked. "Buy a house full of garbage because we love everything else about it?"
"I think we are."
Mira perked up when they returned. "So? What do you think?"
"We'll take it," Jukrit said.
"Wonderful! Now, the asking price is—"
"On one condition," Noraxia interrupted. "The estate helps arrange the cleanout. We'll do the work, but we need access to carts and possibly some laborers for the heavy lifting."
Mira made notes. "I'm sure that can be negotiated. The estate really does want it sold. Shall we discuss price?"
They settled on the bank's stone steps to talk terms. It turned out Jukrit's reputation as a healer carried weight—several influential town merchants vouched for him. Noraxia's ability to do the physical work of clearing the property herself gave them leverage on price. By the time the sun set, they had an agreement pending Jukrit's healing savings and a small loan.
"I'll draw up the papers," Mira said. "You can sign next week. And I... I apologize again for my earlier assumption. I've never met a talking dra—that is, I've never met anyone quite like you, Miss Noraxia."
"Noraxia is fine. And apology accepted." She offered a clawed hand. "Thank you for your help."
Mira shook it carefully, still looking somewhat amazed. "Welcome to Riverside Market. I think you'll find the community more accepting than you might fear. Especially once word spreads about Jukrit's healing practice."
They found an inn that night—the owner took one look at Noraxia and led them to a converted storage room with high ceilings and space for her to be comfortable. As they settled in, the reality of what they'd done began to sink in.
"We bought a house," Jukrit said, slightly dazed.
"A house full of rubbish owned by someone who apparently collected fish with hats."
"Our house full of rubbish."
Noraxia pulled him close. In her anthropomorphic form, the size difference meant he fit against her chest perfectly. "Scared?"
"Terrified. You?"
"Absolutely." She kissed the top of his head. "And excited. And happy. And wondering if we're completely mad."
"Probably mad. But remember what I said on the mountain? I'd rather have whatever time we're given and actually live it."
"Then we'd better start living." She shifted to look at him. "Tomorrow we buy cleaning supplies. Lots of cleaning supplies."
"And burn barrels."
"So many burn barrels."
They stayed up late making plans. Which rooms to tackle first. Where Jukrit's healing practice would be. What color curtains for the barn. How to landscape around the stream. The future unfolding in all its messy, beautiful detail.
At some point, Noraxia said quietly, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For seeing home in a disaster. For wanting to build something with me even though it's hard and people will judge and I'm difficult and—"
"You're not difficult. You're a dragon who cries at puppet shows and pretends not to. You're perfect."
"I definitely don't cry at puppet shows."
"Noraxia?"
"Yes?"
"I love you. And our disaster house. And the life we're going to build there."
She held him tighter. "I love you too. My small, reckless squirrel who sees potential where others see garbage."
"Technically, there is a lot of actual garbage—"
She kissed him quiet, and they fell asleep making plans for home.
The next morning, they visited the property again, just the two of them. The house looked no less cluttered in daylight, but it also looked more like theirs.
"Ready to start?" Jukrit asked.
Noraxia shifted to her four-legged form and lowered herself so he could climb up. "Ready. Though I should warn you—if I find any more fish in hats, I'm keeping them."
"That's fair."
They walked up the path together, toward the house with the dragon-sized door and four wooded acres and a barn that would be perfect on summer afternoons. Toward home.
Not the easy home. Not the perfect home. But theirs, built together despite impossible odds and the judgments of others.
Sometimes the greatest adventure was choosing to stay.
