The rain was pouring down in sheets. That's how it was sometimes in the Stratagem Kingdom... gloomy. Wet. Suffocating. It was a mess, really. Murgatroyd wished he could escape this place, but he had nowhere else to go.

He was so little and young, only a dragonet. No aspiring parents visiting the orphanage had ever seen anything in him. It was like he was invisible. The doors he knocked on for refuge were temporary, or quickly shut him out and left him in the cold.

Murgatroyd never understood why everyone was against his existence. He wasn't even a forsaken cursed dragon! He was just lonely. And clumsy and dumb. And a tiny thief no one ever noticed.

He hid under the edge of the roof, on top of a small crate, just barely managing to stay dry. It would certainly flood in a few hours if the rain didn't stop. Troyd hated floods. It meant he had to suffer more than everyone else.

The lull of sleep pulled on his body, but he refused to rest. His fear told him he would surely drown if he laid down and curled up. He struggled to keep himself awake. Rain got in his sapphire blue eyes, and he tiredly wiped it away with a paw.

The sound of a deep splooshing sound barely caught his attention. A dragon was there, staring at him. Troyd never bothered to remember all the locals that were baffled by his miserable existence as a street dragonet, so he couldn't say if this was someone that he recognized or not. The dragon was hulking and tall, with dark orange and black scales. His wings and several horns had holes in them, and his eyes were a mysterious, shimmering white. It was like he knew something others didn't.

The stranger approached Troyd. Is this it, he thought. Is this the day I finally get kidnapped? Arrested? DIE? Troyd backed away, but fell into the water, which was up to his ankles. He shuddered from the cold.

The stranger was in front of him now. Troyd's adrenaline hadn't kicked in, he was too tired to do anything now. The stranger bent down and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. He closed his eyes and hoped he would be safe...

Perhaps it was him praying hard enough, or the stranger offering an unspoken kindness to him, but when Troyd opened his eyes, he was in a slightly-lit room. To be precise, he was in a small cave under the floorboards of an establishment. The stranger set him down on a pile of leaves, and walked to his own pile and curled up. Troyd was confused... no one ever showed him kindness before. No dragon or dragonet ever did.

But it felt nice to be dry during a storm for once. And with the comfort of leaves, he didn't even realize he had fallen asleep. The next morning when he woke up, he was still with the stranger, but the stranger was awake too and was reading a book.

"Who are you?" Troyd whispered.

The stranger lifted his head and looked at Troyd, but said nothing. He kept staring, as if he expected Troyd to continue talking.

"I-it's just... no one has been nice to me." He said. "No one... except you. Why did you bring me here? I'm just a street rat..."

The stranger didn't say anything... again.

"Ok... I'm gonna go then." Troyd said.

He stood up and headed to the exit, but suddenly the stranger was shaking his head with a worrisome expression. Now Troyd was confused. Did this dragon even know how to talk? Not like it mattered. Troyd doubted he would see this stranger ever again.

The floorboards above creaked, and some voices shouted. The stranger sprung onto his feet and grabbed Troyd, stuffing him behind the stranger's leaf pile. Troyd opened his mouth to scream, but the stranger clasped his jaws shut. The stranger put a claw in front of his own mouth, as if he was trying to say Troyd should shut up.

"Oi! Buddy!" Roared a voice.

The stranger's head turned to the voice, then at Troyd. He shook his head again and let Troyd go. He turned around and draped a wing over so Troyd couldn't see who the stranger was facing. Or anything, for that matter.

"Silent as ever, ey?" The same voice sneered. "See, Cathorn? This scrounger won't cause any trouble. He's just living here and does the cleaning and repair of the restaurant. Nothing serious."

"He doesn't even know how to talk or read?" A second voice gasped. This voice, however, had a frightening edge to it.

"Sadly not." The first sighed. "He can't talk or write, but he can read, I'll tell you."

He can also understand you, Troyd thought. He wished he had the courage to stand up to these bullies.

The second purred. "Hmm. Hey, mute. If you start mucking around or cause any trouble 'ere, you'll be sent to the slammer. Got it?"

"Hey, hey. Don't be hard on him. He's had it rough as it is."

"I'LL BE AS HARD ON HIM AS I WANT! I'M A GUARD! See you next moon for the next checkup, Culuphom. If I see you hiding more stowaways, that mute rock won't be the only one getting locked up."

"Sheesh. Don't listen to him, buddy. Well, actually, do listen to him. I care about everyone's safety here, including yours. And I'd hate it if that had to be destroyed... here's an early morning breakfast."

The clanking of metal was all that Troyd heard before the exit light closed. The stranger let out a sigh, and lifted his wing. Troyd crawled out to see a decently sized fish in front of them on the ground. The stranger ripped it in half, and gave him one of the halves. Troyd had eaten floor food before, it wasn't new. But it was new to be sharing it with a potential ally.

Troyd took a bite out of the fish. "So... you don't talk at all...?"

The stranger shook his head. He opened his mouth and popped in the half he had for himself, and in an instant it was gone.

"How do you live with that meanie if you can't talk back?" Troyd asked. "I'd leave and find a better spot in the city! No one deserves to be yelled at... also if you can't talk... what do you do?"

The stranger tapped his chin. He pulled out a different book and opened it to a half written, half empty page. The written half was full of unrecognizable symbols that Troyd had no idea what they meant...

"I... I can't read or write..." Troyd admitted. "I can draw but I can't write... I'm sorry..."

The stranger let out a sigh. Troyd left to the streets, but the fear of getting caught and living in ruthless conditions made him return to the stranger every night. And when he thought about it, perhaps it was for the better. The two spent the next few days trying to form a way of communication between each other. At first it was drawings, and then it turned into hand signals and gestures.

Somehow, it worked.

Troyd learned that the stranger had a name. Scoria. Apparently, Scoria was named after a rock with holes in it. It really fit with his hole-riddled appearance. Troyd asked about Scoria's eyes and why he couldn't talk, but Scoria signed that it was part of his... "genetics." Troyd wasn't smart enough to know what it meant, but it sounded important.

Sure, the food wasn't that great, and Troyd had to be extra careful not to be seen, but it was a lot better than being alone in the streets. Finally, he had someone to rely on. Finally, he had a friend. He hoped that it would last.