Thanks to @armoury for the beta!

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My plate was slightly fuller than normal as I ate breakfast the next morning, that was in part due to me not having to stockpile food for later anymore… and that I might as well enjoy a few breakfasts beyond just eating apples. God above knows that I may not be seeing this farm again for some time if the plan goes well.

… Well, to be honest to call it a plan is perhaps a bit weak. More of a desperate idea brought on by a wyvern crashing into my barn. The thought of finding the owner to seek reparation was briefly on my mind before I thought better of it, I don’t have the means to support my case… and it would hit the finances I barely have to begin with to hire one of those traveling lawmen. Course, if I won the prosecutor would be paid for, but I couldn’t justify the risk to begin with. Besides, the barn isn’t worth the effort for a failing farm to begin with.

No, due to that there is no saving the farm, at the time being. If I played my cards right I could get a nice payout in London from whoever owned this beast and save up money to rebuild the barn and expand the farm itself… maybe hire some helpers while I’m at it. My lips turned up at the thought, little better than the ranchers. But I didn’t have a family to support anymore, and I didn’t plan on getting one anytime soon for that matter, so might as well use the situation that god has given me to my best advantage. If there was one thing I was capable of doing on this earth it was rearing animals, and if they are so bad at it in London that one can go crashing into my barn like a lightning strike then I have a chance at a good line of work.

It still left a bad taste in my mouth to have to abandon the farm in such a way, but I’m not so stubborn that I won’t seek another option to save it. I took another bite of the jerky I was eating then glanced out the window towards the ‘wyvern pen’. The beast had taken up its favorite spot, that being the corner near the fences so that it could watch the distant forest while the small wooden posts ‘defend it’ from the back. Course it could take whatever position it wanted, the thing had made a mess of several pests that had been skulking around the farm recently.

The beast had settled in rather comfortable, a species that had a ‘unique, solitary but loyal temperament.’ Per what Crawford told me anyways, I still wasn’t sure quite what to make of the ‘expert’ McDunnough sent my way, be he promised to be coming around again today to work out the details of my trip to London… mostly advice on who and where to look, and to give me more information about the beast itself. I knew precious little about cattle of the winged and fire-breathing variety, and he promised he would be coming back with reference material and what knowledge he and his wife had with him.

For now though, there were the morning chores to take care of, and to see if I could help out the beast without getting my top half separated from my bottom half by means of teeth. I took one last bite of the jerky before walking to the front door and opening it, only to take an immediate step back a moment later. There, laying on the nearest stone to the door that makes up the walkway to the front of the house was a whipper drake, it’s short body curled up in death, the cause of which was rather obviously the pair of gashes along its neck.

Dried blood stained the stone, not quite brown to reveal that it hadn’t been there very long. I stared at it for a few moments, then slowly reached down to gingerly pick it up and glanced towards the wyvern pen. The wyvern wasn’t looking my way, but unless one of the coos suddenly gained claws or this whipperdrake committed suicide I knew who left this during the night.

Gripping the pest carefully I walked back into the house and laid it on the table… I hadn’t cooked myself a whipper drake since I was a kid, but I wouldn’t turn down lunch. For now I had chores to get to.

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With the release of a latch the coos stepped out of the new ‘barn’, grateful moos sounded into the morning air as they trotted their way to their favorite bits of grass. Dylan, Bonni, and the rest moved past me, tails flicking behind them as they enjoyed the morning air.

“Last day for you boys and girls,” I said quietly, turning around to watch them for a bit as they grazed before I started to make my way over to the wyvern pen.

The beast’s head turned towards me as I walked, a small jet of flame escaping its mouth as its nostrils flared. It watched me all the way to the gate, then it moved to sit up fully as I entered the paddock. “Well good morning ya big scaled bastard.” I greeted it warmly, the same way I did all my animals. As much as this one was ‘mine’ in any case.

The wyvern tilted its head, watching me carefully before it shuffled over to me on its wingtips. It was quite a thing to see a wyvern move in person, they were always portrayed as these great and majestic creatures, hell the queen’s own symbol was a Nottingham Skyling, a big old bastard of a beast I’d heard tale of living near the Tower of London, ‘course I’d never seen it, but the bastard was supposed to be so big it couldn’t even fly. This thing… removed most of the ‘grace’ that was associated with the breed. Indeed, as it moved towards me using its legs for movement and wingtips for balance it was more like an ungraceful animal than anything else. Still impressive, but just an animal.

It stopped just a few feet away from me, head lowering down as it blew hot air over my body. The breath smelled of carrion and woodsmoke, and I slowly reached behind my back to produce a sack I had tied there. The wyvern noticed my movement immediately, its eyes tracking my hands as I moved the sack around then opened it on the ground. It revealed a rather large slab of meat spiced with comfrey root to help with the pain caused by the beast’s damaged tissue.

It dived in on it the second I stepped away, its jaws snapped shut around the meat and swallowed it without chewing. It’s long tongue slithered out to lick its chops, and it idly sniffed at the leather left behind as I moved around to its wing. I reached out slowly and carefully to touch it, my hand planting onto the rough leathery skin that frames the wing itself.

Almost immediately the beast turned its head, watching me careful as I felt the skin beneath my hand. It’s muscle, thick and strong in stark contrast to the thin almost bat-like wing it frames. I slowly and with deliberate showy movements moved my hand not touching the wing to my side to produce a small leather pouch. “This is coneflower, ah’m gonna apply it to the joint… just stay calm beastie.”

The hand on the wing slid down towards the wound on the joint, and the moment I got within a foot of the wound the wing surged forward. “Gah!”

I kept a desperate grip on the pouch as I bounced along the paddock’s ground. I rolled several times, coming to a groaning stop sideways on the grass and facing the beast. It glared at me, yellow eyes reflecting the morning light with clear warning.

Unfortunately it was looking at a Scotsman. I spat loose bits of dirt and grass out of my mouth and stood up, my hands moved to pull the coat I was wearing off and tossed it onto the fence, leaving me in just my white shirt, vest, and trews. I met its gaze, grinning from ear to ear as I held up the pouch.

“Ah’m gonna help ya out whether ya like it or not beastie. Ya ain’t much worse than a bull, and ah’d rather do this the easy way.”

With that I took a step forward, then another, and another. My hands held out at my side, not in a gesture of dominance, but one of placation. The slow steps hopefully conveyed I wasn’t a threat, though if the beast thought I was a threat at this point there wasn’t much I could do to fix it regardless. The thing was smart, damn smart, and it was more likely reacting out of fear of pain than anything else.

The beast growled, backing away as I approached… but not fast enough. I slowly, gently placed my hand back onto the wing, then slowly slid it towards the wound. The beast stopped, breathing heavily as my hand neared, before letting out another very low growl as I got close to the wound itself. The beast didn’t move, just stared at me as I looked over the injury. The skin was damaged, cut and compressed from where it was bound by what appears to have been rope. The skin was badly irritated, and several open sores are present from where the rope must have been frayed.

My eyes narrowed at the sight of it, then I dipped my finger into the coneflower ointment and moved them to the wound proper.

“It’ll be alright… girl?” To be honest I hadn’t checked, but I continued the soothing words regardless as I finally placed your hand onto the wound proper. The wyvern let out a sound between a growl and a yelp, and bucked hard. This time I leapt, grasping onto one of the ridge of its back to haul myself up as the beast desperately jerked underneath me. “Calm yerself!” I shouted, my hand running the ointment over the wound rapidly. “It’ll be alright ya dumb brute!”

My hand clutched onto the spine for dear life as the beast ran around in circles, its legs kicking against the ground, before… it stopped. Its head turned to look at me, and the hand applying the ointment, golden eyes unblinking as I worked. I grinned, “yeah? Feels better doesn’t it?”

It didn’t move as I continued, and to my surprise by the time I got to the point I had to work on the joint of the second wing the beast raised it of its own volition, watching me carefully as I applied the yellow ointment. “That’s right, it’ll all be over soon. Whoever owned ya was a real bastard ya know that?” It took only a few more minutes of work before both joints were covered in the yellow mix, and I leaned back to admire my work…

“Woah!” Only to go tumbling off the beast as it bucked again. I spun around the moment I hit the dirt, pain lancing through my elbows as I hit the thankfully soft ground. A word of challenge and anger was on my lips… quickly lost as I stared up at the visage of the beast a mere few inches away from my own. It’s eyes blinked once, then it growled and turned away to stomp across the paddock. “Aye, well ah bastard fer a bastard then.” I muttered, then pulled myself up off the ground and brushed the dirt and grass off my trews. Right, well, that should hold it until the evening at least, for now I had other tasks to do, cleanup work to finish before rich Mr. Crawford arrived agai-

As those thoughts crossed my mind I saw a cart coming down the road, a familiar one at that. “Well, how early for a cityman.”

With a grunt I grabbed my coat and slid it on, then made my way down to the road to meet him.