**The Dragon's Kin**
They'd been clearing the house for three weeks when the shadow passed overhead.
Jukrit was in the garden plot he'd started near the stream, transplanting wild valerian into organized rows. He looked up at the sound of massive wings and froze. The dragon circling above was enormous—easily three times the size of Noraxia's four-legged form—with fur that gleamed copper-red in the afternoon sun.
"Noraxia!" he called toward the house.
She emerged from the doorway carrying an armload of moth-eaten quilts destined for the burn pile. One look at the sky and the quilts tumbled from her arms.
"Oh no."
"Friend of yours?"
"My sister. Thaxia." She was already shifting to her four-legged form. "This is... this is very bad."
The copper dragon landed in the clearing with enough force to shake the ground, her golden eyes immediately fixing on Noraxia. Jukrit had learned that dragons in their four-legged forms never stopped growing—their size made it nearly impossible to judge their true age until they shifted to their anthropomorphic form, where their actual maturity became apparent. Thaxia's massive size in this form meant she was likely much older than Noraxia, though exactly how much older was impossible to say.
When she spoke, her voice rumbled like distant thunder.
"Sister. The family has been searching for you for over a year."
"Hello, Thax." Noraxia's voice was carefully neutral. "I've been traveling. Helping people."
"So we heard." Her gaze shifted to Jukrit, still standing in the garden. "And apparently taking up with furfolk healers."
Jukrit carefully set down his trowel and walked toward them, very aware of the size difference. Thaxia could crush him with a single paw. "I'm Jukrit. Your sister and I are—"
"I know what you are." Thaxia's tone could have frozen the stream. "The question is what you think you're doing with my sister."
"Thax, don't—" Noraxia began.
"Do you have any idea what the clan is saying? That you've been traveling with a furfolk? Living with him?" Her wings flared. "Sleeping in barns like common livestock while he plays house with healing herbs?"
"That's enough." Noraxia moved between them, though she had to tilt her head up to meet her sister's eyes even in her draconic form. "You don't get to come here and insult Jukrit. Or our life together."
"Your life? Noraxia, you're barely into adulthood. This..." she gestured dismissively at Jukrit, "...this infatuation will burn bright and fade fast. He'll be dead in a handful of decades while you still have centuries ahead of you."
The words hit like physical blows. Jukrit had known this intellectually—had discussed it with Noraxia during long nights—but hearing it stated so bluntly by her own sister was different.
"Get off our property," Noraxia said quietly.
"Our? You bought this place? With him?" Thaxia looked genuinely shocked. "Noraxia, I came here to bring you home. To talk sense into you before you make choices you'll regret for centuries. But this is worse than I thought."
"I said get off our property."
"No." Thaxia settled onto her haunches. "Not until we talk. Properly. Without your pet listening in."
Jukrit felt Noraxia tense to spring, and he quickly placed a paw on her foreleg. "It's alright. I'll give you space to talk."
"Jukrit—"
"It's okay. She's your sister. You should talk." He met her golden eyes steadily. "I'll be in the house if you need me. But I trust you."
He walked back toward the house, feeling Thaxia's contemptuous gaze on his back the entire way. Once inside, he couldn't help but position himself near a window where he could see them, even if he couldn't hear.
The argument was clearly intense. Noraxia shifted to her anthropomorphic form—her usual choice when she wanted to communicate more expressively. Thaxia did the same, and the size difference became more apparent. Even in anthropomorphic form, Thaxia towered over Noraxia, though this was partly due to age—dragons continued growing throughout their lives in both forms, just more noticeably in their four-legged shape. Their conversation lasted over an hour, with much gesturing from Noraxia and wing-flaring from Thaxia.
Finally, Noraxia turned and walked toward the house. Thaxia called after her, but she didn't look back.
She found Jukrit in what would eventually be the healing room, organizing dried herbs. "She wants to meet you formally. To 'assess your worth.'" Her voice dripped with sarcasm on the last words.
"Alright."
"Alright? Jukrit, she's being insufferable. She called you my 'pet.' She said I'm wasting my youth on a relationship with no future. She—"
"Is your sister, who loves you and is worried about you." Jukrit set down the herbs. "I'm not happy about the insults either. But she flew here to find you, Noraxia. That means something."
"It means she's interfering in my life."
"It means she cares enough to interfere." Jukrit moved closer. "Let me talk to her. Maybe if she understands us better, understands what we have, she'll—"
"She won't. Dragons don't change their minds easily. It's literally bred into us—certainty, confidence, dominance."
"Then I'll have to be very persuasive."
She pulled him into an embrace, careful of her claws in this form. "I hate this. I hate that she's making you prove yourself. You shouldn't have to."
"Maybe not. But if it gives her peace of mind about her sister's happiness, isn't it worth trying?"
They returned to the clearing together. Thaxia had shifted to an anthropomorphic form—still massive, nearly twice Noraxia's height and far broader. Her copper fur was shot through with streaks of gold, and she carried herself with the unconscious arrogance of someone who'd never had to prove her worth.
"So," Thaxia said, "the healer wants to state his case."
"I want to talk to my partner's sister," Jukrit corrected gently. "To help her understand why she's happy."
"Happy?" Thaxia's laugh was bitter. "She's squatting in a hoarded house in the middle of nowhere with a furfolk who'll be dead in forty years. Forgive me if I don't see the happiness."
"Thirty to forty years is typical for squirrel furfolk," Jukrit agreed. "But healers often live longer. My teacher lived to be nearly seventy—the herbs and practices we use tend to extend our years. I may have more time than you think."
"Seventy years?" Thaxia's voice dripped with disdain. "My sister will live for centuries. Even if you somehow manage a century, you'll still leave her with lifetimes of loneliness."
"Perhaps. But the medicinal herbs I work with—valerian, ginseng, the Moonwhisper Lily we just harvested—these don't just heal others. They strengthen my own body. My teacher's mentor lived to ninety-three. It's possible I could have that many years, maybe more." He met her gaze steadily. "I can't promise centuries, but I can promise to stay as long as this body will allow me."
"And that doesn't bother you?" she continued. "Knowing you're condemning my sister to all that grief?"
"It bothers me every day." Jukrit met her gaze steadily. "Do you want to know what I think about at night? I think about how she'll outlive me. How she'll have to watch me age while she stays young. How one day I'll be gone and she'll have centuries of memories of these few decades. It terrifies me."
Thaxia looked surprised by the honesty.
"But here's what else I think about," Jukrit continued. "I think about her laugh when she's in the stream catching fish. I think about how she cries at puppet shows and pretends she doesn't. I think about waking up next to her and feeling lucky beyond measure. I think about the people we help together, the lives we touch. And I think that sixty or seventy years of that—if I'm fortunate—is worth more than a thousand years of loneliness."
"Pretty words," Thaxia said, but there was less certainty in her voice. "But what about the practical matters? The size difference alone—"
"The size difference feels natural to her," Jukrit interrupted gently. "Male dragons are smaller than females in your species, aren't they? To Noraxia, having a smaller partner isn't strange or wrong—it's familiar. And we've learned to navigate it. We make it work."
Thaxia's ears flicked back, clearly not expecting that response.
"Not just words. Our life together." Jukrit gestured to the property. "Yes, we're clearing out a hoarded house. It's hard work, it's messy, and we're doing it together. That barn? Noraxia has her own space there for when she needs to be in her four-legged form. That garden I'm planting will provide healing herbs for the community. That stream has fresh water and fish. This is our home, Thaxia. Not a squat. Home."
"And when you die? What then? She'll be left with a house full of memories and an eternity of grief."
"Then she'll have known love." Jukrit's voice was firm. "Real, deep, committed love. She'll have had someone who saw her for exactly who she is and loved every part of her. Someone who stood with her when others feared her shapeshifting. Someone who built a life with her despite the judgment of both our peoples. Isn't that worth something?"
Noraxia moved closer to Jukrit, placing her hand on his shoulder. "It's worth everything."
Thaxia was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Show me the property. If I'm supposed to believe this is a home and not a disaster, prove it."
They walked the four acres together. Jukrit pointed out the medicinal plants growing wild, his plans for cultivation. Noraxia showed the barn she was converting into her personal space—already there were comfortable cushions, curtains for privacy, and open space for her to shift freely. They explained how they'd been clearing the house room by room, how the village was starting to seek out Jukrit's healing services, how they'd been welcomed by most of the community.
"The healer's quarter is a fifteen-minute walk," Noraxia explained. "Close enough for Jukrit to serve patients, far enough for privacy. And the woods give me space to fly without frightening anyone."
Thaxia examined everything with a critical eye. Finally, she said, "You've put thought into this."
"Of course we have," Noraxia said. "This isn't some reckless infatuation, Thax. This is our life. We're building it together."
"And your plan for when he ages? When he becomes too frail to work?"
"I'll care for him," Noraxia said simply. "The same way he'd care for me if our situations were reversed. That's what love is."
"Love." Thaxia shook her head. "Noraxia, you're so young. You don't understand what you're signing up for. The grief—"
"I'm not a hatchling, Thax. I'm a young adult—the equivalent of someone in their twenties if I were furfolk or human. Old enough to make my own choices." She took Jukrit's hand. "I know what I'm choosing. I know the cost. And I choose it anyway. I choose him, knowing full well what it means."
They stood in silence, the three of them in the clearing. Finally, Thaxia shifted back to her four-legged form.
"I should return to the clan. They'll want to know I found you."
"What will you tell them?" Noraxia asked.
"That you're alive. That you're..." she hesitated, "...settled. That you seem content."
"Happy, Thax. I'm happy."
She regarded them both with those ancient golden eyes. "I still think you're making a mistake. I think the grief will be harder than you imagine. I think you're trading centuries of peace for decades of joy, and I think that's a poor bargain."
"Noted," Noraxia said coolly.
"But..." Thaxia's voice softened slightly, "I also see that you've made your choice. And perhaps that's what matters. You're choosing this with open eyes." She looked at Jukrit. "Healer. Hurt my sister, and I will find you in whatever afterlife squirrels go to and make eternity very uncomfortable."
"Understood."
"Care for her. For whatever time you have."
"I will. I do."
Thaxia spread her wings. "I won't tell the clan everything. Just that you're safe and... settled. They don't need to know the details yet. That will buy you time before the rest of the family starts arriving."
"Thank you," Noraxia said quietly.
"Don't thank me. I'm still not convinced this isn't madness." But her voice was gentler now. "But you're my sister. And if this is what you want..." She didn't finish the sentence, just launched herself skyward with powerful wing beats.
They watched until she was just a speck against the clouds.
"That went... better than I expected?" Jukrit offered.
Noraxia laughed, a slightly shaky sound. "She didn't eat you or burn down our house, so yes, I suppose it did." She pulled him close. "I'm sorry you had to defend our relationship. Defend us."
"I'm not. It helped me clarify things in my own mind." He looked up at her. "I meant what I said. About every day being worth it."
"Even when you have to face down disapproving dragon siblings?"
"Especially then. Though I hope they don't all just drop in unannounced."
"Knowing my family, they probably will." She sighed. "Are you sure you want to sign up for this? Meeting dragon relatives is going to become a regular thing."
"Noraxia." He took both her hands. "I bought a hoarded house with you. I'm clearing decades of accumulated junk so we can build a home together. I faced down your protective sister. Do you really think I'm going to back out now?"
She smiled, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "No. No, I don't think you will." She paused, then added more softly, "You know, when you mentioned that males of my species are smaller than females... I'd never even thought about our size difference being strange. It just feels right to me. Natural."
"Because that's how furred dragon pairs of your species usually are?"
"Exactly. If anything, being with a male my own size would feel odd." She laughed quietly. "Leave it to you to understand my instincts better than my own sister does."
"Good. Because you're stuck with me. For whatever time we have."
They stood together in their clearing, the house behind them still full of work, the garden half-planted, the barn still being converted. Their life was messy and incomplete and would always have the shadow of time hanging over it.
But it was theirs. Built on choice and commitment and a love that insisted on existing despite all the reasonable arguments against it.
"Come on," Noraxia said finally. "We have seventeen boxes of ceramic figurines to sort through, and I'm pretty sure at least three of them are cursed."
"Only three?"
"I'm being optimistic."
Hand in hand, they walked back to their house, their barn, their four acres of woods and stream and possibility. Behind them, the sky was empty of dragons. Ahead, there was dinner to make and work to do and a life to build.
Sometimes love meant facing down disapproval. Sometimes it meant defending your choices to those who thought they knew better. Sometimes it meant accepting that you'd chosen the harder path.
But always, always, it meant choosing each other.
And that, Jukrit thought as Noraxia laughed at something he'd said about the ceramic figurines, was worth everything.
