Bullfrog

Bullfrog never thought he’d fall in love with a four-winged butterfly-moth dragon. Then again, he never thought he would fall in love since most MudWings usually didn’t. He also always thought that the only continent in the whole world was Pyrrhia, and that there were no such thing as four-winged butterfly-moth dragons (called SilkWings) or four-winged bee-wasp dragons with a variety of natural weapons and unnecessarily aggressive personalities and behaviors (called HiveWings).

That was, until Luna the SilkWing from Pantala washed up on the SandWing kingdom’s shore and he (along with Sundew the LeafWing, Qibli the SandWing, Lynx the IceWing, Moonwatcher (or just “Moon” for short) the NightWing, Sky the SkyWing, Wren the human, and Pineapple the RainWing) was sent back to Pantala with her to crawl into a mysterious abyss and gloriously kick some mysterious creature’s butt.

The butt-kicking part didn’t happen, but the victory part did. On Luna’s end, anyway. That was when Bullfrog met you, the most beautiful dragon he had ever seen, in the Pantalan dragons’ cave hideout while the whole thing blew over.

You were unlike anything Bullfrog had ever seen — all fluttering wings and soft eyes, delicate but not fragile, graceful but still able to look someone dead in the face and make them back off. The moment he saw you, it was like the heat of the Scorpion Den with the hot summer sun burned behind his ribs. It hurt, but it felt good. Addicting.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared. Watched you talk with Luna and Sundew, your wings catching the glow of the light like stained glass. You looked too perfect for this world. Like you’d been drawn with care, stitched from silk and color and everything he wasn’t meant to have.

And that’s when the thoughts started.

They’re going to leave you behind. The others don’t see how fragile you are. How rare. How precious.

He started making excuses to stick close. Bringing you water. Offering to sharpen your claws with river stones. Dragging heavy things for you even when you said you could do it yourself. Smiling in that sluggish, MudWing way, like he was harmless. Like he didn’t feel the rage bubbling in his throat whenever another dragon looked at you too long.

“Need help with that?” he often said, pretending his tail didn’t twitch with irritation when Pineapple made you laugh. Pretending his chest didn’t tighten with rage when Moon complimented your flight form. Pretending he wasn’t already imagining ways to keep you, to protect you from everyone else — even if that meant keeping you where no one else could touch you.