The rocking chair was nearly silent on the porch. There was no sense having a relaxing spot to spend your time if that tranquility was disturbed by squeaks and creaks. Dawn was just brightening and it was promising to be a lovely warm morning. Rare for this early in the spring. But optimism blooms alongside the daffodils. My coffee sat steaming in my hands as I watched the hens scratching through the grass for whatever dared move. They were efficient and effective at keeping themselves generally well fed with the occasional scraps from dinner. I loved watching them and how their internal politics played out. Complex alliances and shifting loyalties and new grudges appeared daily. It's a quiet life here. Chicken political intrigue is thrilling.

A muffled thump came from beside the chair and I stopped rocking to look down. "Mornin'. Anything interesting to write home about?"

I got a low rumble in reply and a heavy sigh as Raider carefully moved his tail from under the chair where he'd gotten careless. "Guess not," I commented into the silence. "Francisco has decided that Reno is her mortal enemy this morning. She and Georgette have given her the cold shoulder since first light," I filled Raider in on the latest coop gossip.

Raider gazed at me with a look that could almost be taken offensively. "We have company coming," he finally told me.

I stared at him. "What do you mean company? Someone coming up the road? How long before they get here?"

He shook his head, "No, she's coming through the woods cross country style. I figure she's been bushwacking a couple of days at least. She's a mess though." He stopped and considered the hens in the yard. "May want to watch the chickens. Though I'm not sure any harm would come from it."

Now I really looked at him. He didn't seem bothered by the company heading our way. And if he wasn't agitated it couldn't be bad company. He never thought twice about toasting unwelcome visitors at any time. And he'd never put his hens at risk. He watched over his little flock like they were his children. He turned his yellow eyes to watch the woodline past the garden.

Suddenly the brush shook and a small black animal came crashing through into the clearing. Raider "hmphed" in disapproval and stood, moving to the top of the steps. "How did you know?" I asked watching the pup work it's way through the dead grass of the hay field.

"Smelled her while I was hunting this morning. Guessed she would smell breakfast eventually since her trail seemed to be heading in our general direction. She'll likely eat us out of house and home," he warned. "Bet she's been dumped and been out in the woods for a while. At least a while for someone her size."

The pup finally made it to the garden and yard where the grass was kept shorter. I leaped up and followed Raider as he made his way through the chickens to head her off. All we needed was a torched pup 'cause she mauled a bird in her excitement and hunger. She couldn't be more than 4 months old or so. That awkward age where they were starting to lengthen and gain some size but were all paws and tails and clumsiness. I scooped her up as soon as her wiggly body was in reach. Raider came up to investigate and give temporary access to the farm pending good behavior. I may be on the deed but Raider ran the place. I rolled my eyes. The dragon really was insufferable some days but he had been written into the purchase agreement.

"Do you think she'll hang around?" I asked him.

"Feed her breakfast and I don't think she'll let us have a choice," he watched her wiggling and pawing. "The better question is whether she decides to be a productive member of society or a complete reprobate."

We walked back to the porch keeping a firm grip on the little black pup. Her oversized ears were comical. Someone's hound got a bit mixed up with someone's farm dog and now we had this furry outcome. I opened the kitchen door to grab a couple of biscuits and eggs while Raider kept the pup corralled. She didn't seem to mind the dragon and certainly wasn't scared of him. Dragons weren't common in this area but he certainly wasn't the only one. She'd surely seen one before by her reaction.

She wolfed down the eggs and biscuits. I don't think they even touched her teeth on the way down. She busied herself sniffing around the porch and screen door. We watched her explore and wiggle her way around. Raider neatly laid himself across the steps to keep her on the porch and away from the chickens as they continued their daily migration across the yard.

Slowly she came back around and I scratched behind her ears and rubbed her snout and head. She seemed to be readying for a nap after her adventure and breakfast. To my surprise, she walked over to Raider and curled up against his chest. He looked up at me with a reproachful expression. The pup had decided who would watch over her while she slept. And I'd known Raider for years now. I could tell by the way he watched her and rearranged his legs and wings oh so carefully that she would soon be under his watchful protection. She had found herself a home. "And Franciso would never ally with Georgette," he grumbled at me quietly, careful not to wake his sleeping charge.