Lily found them behind the orphanage’s garbage bins, whimpering in the rain. At first, she thought they were dogs. Big ones maybe. But when lightning flashed, she saw scales instead of fur, tiny horns instead of ears, and wings folded tight against shivering bodies. Dragon cubs, maybe 3 months old, starving.
She knew the rules. Dragons were dangerous. Protected, yes, but dangerous. You saw one, you reported it to the wardens. You definitely didn’t touch them. But Lily had been hungry before. She knew what those whimpers meant. She’d save her dinner roll for the evening meal. Had been planning to eat it later when the hunger got bad in the night.
The orphanage never gave them quite enough. Instead, she broke it in half and offered the pieces to the cubs. For golden eyes locked onto the bread. They devoured it in seconds, then looked up at her with desperate hope. “That’s all I have,” she whispered. “I am sorry.” But the next night, she brought them her whole dinner.
And the night after that, for 6 days, Lily went to bed hungry, while two dragon cubs grew stronger in their hiding spot behind the bins. On the seventh day, they were gone. Lily told herself it was good. They were healthy enough to fly now, to find their family. She ignored the hollow ache in her chest, the same one she’d felt when her parents died.
when she’d arrived at this cold place where no one knew her name. She tried to ignore the hunger, too. But it was getting harder. She’d given away too many meals. That’s when the sky went dark at noon. Every child in the orphanage rushed to the windows. The matron screamed. Above the building, hundreds of dragons circled.
Every color imaginable, from scarlet to sapphire to pure starlight silver. The largest one, ancient and gold as the sun, landed in the courtyard with a ground shaking thud. The matron, Mistress Grill, rushed outside, her face pale. Great WM, we meant no offense. Whatever transgression. Silence. The dragon’s voice rolled like thunder.

Its massive head swung toward the building, nostrils flaring. Where is the child called Lily? Lily’s blood turned to ice. They knew. Somehow they knew she’d hidden their young. And now out here, child. Now on shaking legs, Lily walked into the courtyard. 200 dragons watched her. She wanted to run, to disappear, but there was nowhere to go.
The great WM lowered its head until one enormous eye filled her vision. You fed my granddaughter and her brother. For six nights, you gave them your only food. I Lily’s voice cracked. They were hungry. And so were you. The dragon’s eye world with colors she had no names for. A human child with nothing gave everything to dragon hatchlings.
Do you know what this means? Lily shook her head, tears streaming down her face. It means you were kin. The dragon’s voice softened to something almost gentle. My grand cubs imprinted on you. They have been inconsolable since we retrieved them, crying for their sister. So the council has decided. From the crowd of dragons, two small forms burst forward.
The cubs grown bigger but still recognizable. They tackled Lily with enough force to knock her down, covering her face with enthusiastic licks and happy chirps. We claim you, the great WM declared. Lily of no clan. We name you Lily Gold scale, ward to the dragon flights, sister to hatchlings, daughter of the sky.
But I’m human, Lily whispered. So a red dragon landed beside them, transforming into a fierce looking woman in armor. You think family is about species? About what you look like? She knelled down, her expression fierce and loving all at once. You protected our young when you had every reason not to. You sacrificed for them. That makes you one of ours.
The great WRM’s transformation was more dramatic. an ancient man with golden eyes that held centuries. The orphanage will receive compensation for your care. Your belongings will be retrieved. From this day forward, you will live among us. Learn our ways and want for nothing. I don’t understand.
Lily sobbed, clutching the cubs who refused to leave her side. I just gave him my bread. Exactly. The old dragon smiled. Any creature can show kindness when they have plenty. But you, small one, showed it when you had nothing. That is the mark of true nobility. As dragons began landing in human form, each one introducing themselves as aunt, uncle, cousin, teacher, Lily realized something.
She’d spent 3 years in the orphanage, and not one person had learned her favorite color or asked if she had bad dreams. She’d been with the dragons for 10 minutes, and already three of them were arguing over who got to teach her to fly first. Welcome home, little sister.” The cubs chirped in unison, their voices finally strong and clear.

And for the first time since her parents died, Lily believed in home again. The orphanage matron watched the dragons depart with her newest charge, taking to the sky in a tornado of wings and joy. “Well,” she muttered to herself, “that certainly a first.” Behind her, every orphan pressed against the windows, their faces full of wonder. Sometimes they learned kindness doesn’t just change your life.