A Dragon's Hoard

The small shifter lay despondently face down on the bed, one arm flopped over the side finger tips grazing the rough carpet. They'd just been pebbles. Pebbles hidden in a ratty backpack, but they'd been collected with care, each one chosen for its shape, colour or texture. It had been his hoard, and they'd taken it away. He stared blankly through black strands of hair at the empty room. He'd been collected from his sleeping place in the bushes by the beach and forced to share a room in the charity house. His rucksack had been the only thing left, he wore clothes of course. A ratty red hoody and mud stained jeans. Those had been stripped from him too. So what was left? Air passed his lips in an almost imperceptible sigh.

The door creaked open but he couldn't be bothered to remove his stare from the rough green carpet. It was that hard bristly stuff used in schools and public buildings. His fingers twitched as he felt two people enter the room. One was her; the bitch who'd taken everything away, the second was a man he didn't recognise.

"His eyes are rather distinctive, but we don't know what to do, he's not eating, drinking or joining in anything." He watched crisp dark grey slacks step into his vision, the shoes were shiny black leather and he watched with disinterest as they were toed off, revealing black socks. The feet stepped closer and lifted and he felt the bed move as the man settled behind him on the bed.

"Did he come in with anything?"

"Yeah, he had a backpack, we had to throw it, it was so worn,"

"Did you keep anything in that bag?" He nodded his head after a moment's pause, a warm hand rested on his head. "Was it your hoard?" another nod. "Is there anything left of your hoard?" he shook his head. "What was in the bag?" he closed his lips are glared at the floor,

"It was just a bunch of rocks; they've been put back on the beach now. You're not supposed to take them away in the first place." The man, no, shifter, behind him sighed,

"Do you have any idea how to deal with a dragon?" he paused, "no, actually don't answer that," he stroked his fingers through the boys soft hair, "I'm going to give you something. It's from my hoard and I want you to look after it, can you do that for me?" he nodded, there was a rustle of fabric and a pebble appeared in from of his face. He blinked. He reached a hand up and grasped the smooth stone. It was pitch black and fit comfortably into the centre of his palm, a small smile tugged at his lips as settled the pebble under his head. It was probably worthless to the older dragon, but without a hoard a dragon suffered. They grew weak, lost energy and purpose, and slowly their body would turn to stone. The older man chuckled.