@PVersusNP
Of all the things that Caliope disliked about being acknowledged as the "mainland expert" on teacup dragons was that she was not, in fact, an expert. Oh, she did her best, of course: read every piece of literature even remotely related to the little creatures, fed them, played with them, kept them in a safe, warm home until they were ready to be adopted out into the world--and then only ever to people whom she had thoroughly vetted. She knew she wasn't the only way
drakarys micro were spreading through the mainland--in fact, she doubted she even made up a real percentage, when it came down to it--but she honestly didn't
want any part of the whole process.
She just hadn't been able to stop herself from buying that first shipment of hatchlings off a trader she wouldn't have trusted to show the animals proper care and consideration, and then, well...Then she had a dozen tiny dragons in her house, and not one single idea of how to care for them. So she'd learned. It had been a blow when she learned that they were so young when they came to her that they would likely not survive in the wild on their own--they simply hadn't learned how. And then more traders had come through with more dragons, and no one else who knew how properly care for them, and...well, things sort of spiraled. She
had to start adopting them out if she wanted any space in her own home! Never mind the fact that she'd written no less then five entreaties to the sea-traders guild
begging them to stop the trade of teacup dragons; there were plenty enough on the mainland now to be getting on with, thank you, and no one but her seemed to be putting any effort in learning how to help them adapt to a new environment!
So when she ran into a problem, what she got was, "
You're the expert,
you do something."
"If I had the coin for it, I'd be starting an expedition to buy up every last hatchling those
poachers take and get you all back to Yoreiq," she told the tiny bundle in her arms as she hurried briskly down the wooded path. The dragon she held--a juvenile she'd taken to calling Meeka--peeped tiredly at her. She bit her lip and adjusted his blanket as she quickened her pace. "This is
just the sort of thing I keep telling people is bound to happen," she muttered. "Of
course draconic resilience makes you hardy little things, but there's always going to be a flu or--or
something that sneaks in, and--"
Meeka sneezed a small puff of sparks and she held him a little tighter. She'd dealt with sick animals before--but never a teacup dragon. And when her usual go-to's for a cold hadn't seemed to have any effect, she'd gotten frazzled enough to visit her local healer.
That had been a fun trip: more "
You're the expert, Caliope, don't you
know?" until she wanted to
scream. Eventually, though, the condescending old bat had told her of the alchemist and apothecary who she sometimes did business with just outside of town. Cali had never actually had occasion to meet the man herself, but she was vaguely aware of his existance.
She just had to hope
he would be able to help her with a tiny, sick dragon.
Once she actually caught sight of the cottage, her stride moved from a "hurried walk" to an "outright trot", and she was reaching out with one hand to knock quickly before she'd even fully scaled the front stoop.
"Hello? Hello, is anyone in? I--I need some help..."