Thanks to armoury for the beta!

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To say I ran would be an understatement; I sprinted like the devil himself was chasing me as I crossed the yard towards the barn. The coos ran past me, mooing wildly in panic as their home burned behind them. I made the single fastest trip between my home and the barn of my life, and smoke already choked the air by the time I arrived. I covered my mouth with my arm as I looked into the flaming wreckage of the family barn. My hand clasped the edge of the barn door to catch myself as I looked inside, the wood hot to the touch. The beast was in the center of it, roaring terribly, great pillars of flame erupting up from its mouth to turn the already burning ceiling to cinder. It’s roar lit up the fields like day as they stretched twenty feet in the air, then it lowered its head, its wings flapping uselessly as it sat in the center under timber and hay.

It was a sleek thing; grey, though painted orange in the flaming light. Two horns jutted out the side of its head, one slightly chipped from the crash, though that was far the worst of the damage. No, that would be the large plank of timber which had slipped between its chest plating and into its chest. It flapped wildly, the wooden spear shaking and blood dripping from its mouth. The barn rumbled in the sound of it’s rapid breath, when it could not shake at the sound of it’s roar.

The timber was keeping it from moving, and was keeping it from flying from the looks of things. I stared at it, watching it thrash in the burning barn for several moments before my instincts took over, my hand reached and grabbed the rope kept near the door, then I ran, one arm covering my mouth for what little good it did as I scrambled through the burning barn to come to a stop near the screeching creature. It’s head was thrashing wildly, sending the timber and hay that had stacked on it flying, causing me to duck and dive to the ground as dozens pounds of it came down crashing behind me. Heat washed over me as I crawled forward towards the timber, flame billowing over me and filling the air with the scent of something that reminded me of burning coal. The beast was angry and panicked, screaming in pain and frustration as it tried anything and everything to get free. It was like a bull stuck in a fence, it would tear everything apart just to get free, no matter what it had to destroy or how it had to hurt itself in the process.

Luckily for it I had worked with more than one bull before. I slipped the rope around the timber, moving fast to tie a knot with it. “This may hurt a bit!” I shouted, then wrapped the rope around my hand and ran to the side. With a roar of pain and the clattering of lumber the timber bent then slid out of the beasts chest. Slick and red it bounced along the ground behind me, and I dropped the rope and dived out of the way as the wyvern dug the edges of its wings into the ground and charged out of the barn.

The ground shook as it moved, it was too big for the doors, and they along with the frame simply cracked and broke away as it charged through it in pain and panic. The barn shook as well, timbers falling and parts of the loft collapsing as it broke free, and I sprinted into the storm to get away from the collapsing building.

The beast was stumbling through the crash, unsteady and still clearly in pain. As I watched it stumbled a good few feet from the barn, a roar of what I assumed to be frustration and pain escaping its maw before it collapsed forwards onto the grass. The claws on its feet and on the tips of its wings drew rivets in the earth and it scratched at it desperately, trying to stand to no avail.

“Arthur!” a voice called out to me, and I looked to see… George. One of the neighbor farmers, he was half dressed in his evening clothes with his hat held in his hand. His wife wasn’t too far behind, and they both came to a stop looking at the burning barn and wyvern with shock.

“We need to get the cattle in the shed,” I shouted, “and some buckets for the fire!”

George looked towards the wyvern a moment, then at me, fear plain as god's day on his face.

“It can’t damn well move George, but you can so move your ass!”

More people started coming down the way shortly afterwards, either drawn by the deafening roaring of the creature or the flames billowing into the sky I couldn’t tell or care. All I did care about was that the village boys got the cattle into the barn while George and the rest of them helped put out what remained of the family barn. There wasn’t much left when they were done, the crashing wyvern had already put a damn near irreparable hole in the roof, the fire did the rest. The shed, previously unused, was thankfully enough to shelter the cattle for a while, but there were nowhere near the funds needed to actually rebuild the barn.

“Hold it down!” A voice shouted, and I pressed down more firmly on the beasts snout as James ran a rope over the beasts neck to hold it in place. The sound of a hammer and nail sounded out a moment later, and the work was done.

The wyvern was held in place by straps going over the wings, neck, and legs, and it was only until myself and the local rancher got to work on it that I noticed the obvious break in its left leg and what appeared to be a burn mark on the top of its head just between the horns. It wasn’t particularly… happy about this arrangement, but it also had little choice in the matter.

I let out a sigh as the work was done and glanced towards the smouldering remains of my barn. If the lack of good crops didn’t end the farm, that certainly would. A growl sounded underneath me and I glanced down to meet eye to eye with the wyvern. “Aye, it’s your fault. Don’t suppose ya have any money do ya?”

It continued glaring at me, not deeming me worthy of growl nor snarl as the villagers start to drift away. More than a few continued to stare at the beast in awe and wonder for some time, but the evening rain saw fit to get rid of them as well in time. Leaving me alone, with an injured wyvern, in the rain. I let out another sigh then run my hands through my soaking wet hair, droplets falling down my face a moment before I look towards the house. There was only one thing to do I supposed.

“Wait here a moment,” I said quietly. Then walked into the house and went into the older bedroom. Underneath the old unused bed was a set of thicker winter blankets that I hadn’t been using, I grabbed them, tossing them over my shoulder before grabbing some planks by the side of the house I had used in the past to replace broken sections of the roof.

The wyvern watched me as I approached with the bundles, golden eyes unblinking as sputtering tufts of flame lit the grass in front of its snout before the rain put it out. “Aye, ah know yer unhappy, how do ya think ah feel about the whole situation?”

With a grunt I moved the timbers to press together over its head like a triangle, I did the same down its back until I got to the joint of its wings, then I threw the blanket over top of it so the damn thing wasn’t getting rain on its head all night. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do for the rest of its body, but in mere minutes it had trespassed, vandalised, and arson(ed?) my barn, so it would just have to count its blessings. Once my rain-cover was finally set up I looked it over, it would stop any rain from getting down… if wyverns were even bothered by the rain. None of the villagers knew anything about them, except for the teacher at the school. But I did know how to deal with a wounded and scared animal.

The thick blocks that held the rain from it’s head were too unwieldy, so I braved the shed. It took some time to navigate around the coos while finding things I had buried in the place months ago, but I soon had some thinner pieces of wood and some wire. I carried both back to the wyvern, which stared intently from under its blankets. The beast watched me with an intensity that reminded me of a pastor after the boys tried skipping Sunday lessons.

“These,” I said, holding up the wire and planks, “are going around yer leg. Any objections?”

It didn’t so much as growl, so I slowly and carefully walked around the side of the beast until I was out of sight. I stepped over the joint of the wings, then kneeled down to take a closer look. The leg was bent slightly, more to the left than the right limb. It was thicker than a cow’s leg by half, and from the looks of the scales it seemed to be more than a little harder to move as well. But it was straight enough in places to get a splint on. I placed my hand slowly and gently on the leg, only for a loud growl to sound out and it’s tail to tug against the bindings holding it to the grass.

“Calm down boy… girl, thing. Calm yerself. Ah ain’t gonna hurt ya.” The leg jerked from underneath my hand as I inspected the damage, the beast uncomfortably trying to get away as I looked over the injury. I didn’t know anything about wyvern anatomy, but a broken leg was a broken leg. “Right, ah’m gonna get this splinted, if ya try to kick me ya can splint yer own damn leg.” Despite the words I said them quietly and calmly, doing my best to keep it at least somewhat calm despite its planic. Wyverns are said to be smart, let's see if that holds true.

I grabbed the leg and pushed my weight against it. The bone moved back with a loud pop, and the wyvern’s muscles clenched beneath me. A deafening roar came out a moment later, my ears rang as it reared back its head as far as it could. A gout of fire burst from its mouth; a sputtering, breathless thing. I worked quickly, placing the wood on either side of it and tightening the wire around it, and despite the pain it did not kick, holding the limb as still as possible as I worked. A minute later it was done, two pieces of timber sat getting progressively wetter in the rain as they held the joint in the proper place. “Now see, that wasn’t so hard was it?”

My head then turned from it to the wound on its chest... to my surprise, it had scabbed over already, where before there had been fresh blood, now it was all dried, the wound was still there, an angry pink scab behind the armor plate that rippled unnaturally with every breath the beast took… but it wasn’t bleeding anywhere that I could see. I nod, looking it over one final time before moving around to its head again… slightly to the side so that the beast couldn’t set me on fire. “Right, you get some rest, just roar if ya need my attention for something aye?”

I got no response, and with that I nodded and went back to the house.

Despite the excitement of the evening, sleep wasn’t hard to find.

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The next morning was normal, in that it took me glancing outside the window in the kitchen to recall that there was a wyvern on the field. It was staring at me as well, golden eyes watching the house. They glowed at that, the sun wasn’t even out yet but those eyes were bright and visible even in the darkness.

Right, that was something to deal with. I rummaged through the pantry for a moment before wandering over the shed to let the cows out. The cows, despite the giant predator barely a dozen feet away from them, cared little more than enough to not chew next to its head. I had to usher the stupid things into a feild that didn’t have a fire hazard in it before I wandered over to the beast itself.

It growled as I approached, and I quirked a brow. “Ah don’t speak that language, but ah do bring breakfast if yer feeling peckish.”

I tossed what I retrieved from the pantry forward, some beef… and not a lot at that. It was salted and preserved for a special occasion, though I doubted it would be willing to eat the grass, not like I was going to get that dinner with Mary in any case. The chunk bounced on the grass before it stopped just to the left of its snout.

The wyvern sniffed audibly, nostrils flaring as it turned its head towards the beef. It stared at it warily for a few moments before it opened its mouth wide, revealing a long forked tongue and many teeth. The mouth clamped down onto the meat with a crunch when a voice called out from behind me.

“Oh my, so it's true then.” The voice was kind and old, a voice that I had grown to know quite well in my childhood.

I turned my head back to see a man hunched over a cane next to the front fence. McDunnough, the local teacher, formerly a wyvern rider, so he used to tell you anyways. With speed that was at odds with both the cane and his age he got the gate open and walked through the fields towards the beast currently enjoying breakfast. He came to a stop just next to the tent, his eyes looking up and down the wyvern before meeting my own.

“A rare specimen Arthur; you found a skyracer.”

You met his gaze and nodded. “Right, lets just pretend ah don’t know what that is an’ ya tell me?”

McDunnough adjusted his spectacles before he talked, large heavy things that seem more at odds with his vision than for it. “Sleek wyvern, comes from the Caucasus.”

“The what?”

The teacher sighed, “from the Russian Empire, it’s a wyvern that lives amongst the mountains, normally.”

“Nearest mountain to here is Merrick,” I gestured towards the barn. “Unless the barn is high’r than ah thought ah think the beast was a bit lost.”

“Yes… what happened exactly?”

The explanation didn’t take long, and by the time you finished McDunnough had kneeled down to get a closer look at the creature. “That wound there, just below the chest plate. The wyvern has pierced the flight sac, it will take time to heal before it can fly again.”

“Ah didn’t notice much flyin’ from it, mostly crashin’ and then tryin’ to run with ah broken leg. Damn thing made a mess.”

McDunnough let out a breath then stood up. “I would imagine it is from the London area, that’s a brand mark between its horns.”

I turned my head towards the ‘burn’ I noticed early, and in the early morning light I can more easily make out what seems to be the symbol of a crown in a circle imprinted onto its scales. “What, someone keepin’ it as a pet?”

“Possible,” McDunnough replied. “More likely due to the breed it was used for racing or the fighting arena. It’s a good and strong breed for that.”

“Heard there’s good money in that.”

McDunnough nodded and turned to face me fully. “There can be, I can send a message to a friend I still have in Glasgow, get it some food and help get the owner identified.”

“Thank you sir, much appreciated.” I said sincerely, and with that McDunnough walked back towards the fence and out of sight.

The arenas of London were places of fantasy: where wyverns raced, fought, and generally competed for glory and wealth. I stared down the road where McDunnough went, then looked back towards the wyvern that just finished eating the last of the meat I had scrounged from my pantry.

… Perhaps.