12th November, 1894 — Near the Kiln (Keepers’ Cottage), Avalon Glen
She supposed she ought to be grateful her father let her come to the Glen at all, even if she did never get remotely close to any dragons. No, her father would probably rather she never left the Yarwoods’ house, if he could help it – but she was his only child, and she knew he liked to share his work with her. (She didn’t always even need to feign interest: dragons were interesting, however dull going through his research notes and indexing them also was.)
But sitting at home in Irvingly in the off-season turned out to often be just as boring as being left here to fend for herself, and sometimes, even in the dead of November, Mattie found she would rather have the chance to roam about the wilds of Wales than sit at home doing precisely nothing. Merlin, she had never thought she would miss Hogwarts – but at least she had been kept busy with schoolwork and spellwork, gossip and rivalries back then. There had never been time enough to do nothing.
In short, in recent weeks Mattie had discovered she was bored, and a bored girl was sorely in need of adventure.
So she had begged her father to let her at least come onto the outskirts of the reserve, and perhaps see whether she could sketch any of the landscapes dragons from a distance. On the upside, her father had let her come; on the downside, he had insisted that she not go too far, and that a dragonkeeper babysit her at all times. This was a nuisance to everyone in itself – to Mattie, because Mr. Farris would rather die than let it be Gwyn Conway, the female dragonkeeper who looked like a boy (whom Mattie was desperate to befriend). And of course to most of the dragonkeepers, who had work to be getting on with that was not being a debutante’s personal bodyguard. And possibly to her father as well, because the other female dragonkeeper was nowhere to be found, and most of the remaining men were rather rugged, muscular beings. Which made them seem like good protection, but also possibly a little too much like men.
So instead the lot had been left to a Mr. Sandow, who had evidently been perceived one of the younger and most non-threatening of the dragonkeepers. Mattie was not quite so disappointed as her father left with Mr. Howell for the day’s research: no one had told her Mr. Sandow was so good-looking. Mattie appraised him where they had met, just by the ramshackle keepers’ cottage. She was bundled up warmly in a cloak and gloves, supposedly to set out on her valley-sketching, but instead she just leaned against the wall of the place, absently rearranging her sketching supplies, her mind presently on other things. “Do you all really live in there together?” She asked him unabashedly, eyebrows raised in interest. She imagined it would be much like a Hogwarts dormitory, to live and work side by side all the time. But they were grown men – it must be odd. She grinned, a little amused – and a little playful. “Do you never wish for a little more privacy?”
But sitting at home in Irvingly in the off-season turned out to often be just as boring as being left here to fend for herself, and sometimes, even in the dead of November, Mattie found she would rather have the chance to roam about the wilds of Wales than sit at home doing precisely nothing. Merlin, she had never thought she would miss Hogwarts – but at least she had been kept busy with schoolwork and spellwork, gossip and rivalries back then. There had never been time enough to do nothing.
In short, in recent weeks Mattie had discovered she was bored, and a bored girl was sorely in need of adventure.
So she had begged her father to let her at least come onto the outskirts of the reserve, and perhaps see whether she could sketch any of the landscapes dragons from a distance. On the upside, her father had let her come; on the downside, he had insisted that she not go too far, and that a dragonkeeper babysit her at all times. This was a nuisance to everyone in itself – to Mattie, because Mr. Farris would rather die than let it be Gwyn Conway, the female dragonkeeper who looked like a boy (whom Mattie was desperate to befriend). And of course to most of the dragonkeepers, who had work to be getting on with that was not being a debutante’s personal bodyguard. And possibly to her father as well, because the other female dragonkeeper was nowhere to be found, and most of the remaining men were rather rugged, muscular beings. Which made them seem like good protection, but also possibly a little too much like men.
So instead the lot had been left to a Mr. Sandow, who had evidently been perceived one of the younger and most non-threatening of the dragonkeepers. Mattie was not quite so disappointed as her father left with Mr. Howell for the day’s research: no one had told her Mr. Sandow was so good-looking. Mattie appraised him where they had met, just by the ramshackle keepers’ cottage. She was bundled up warmly in a cloak and gloves, supposedly to set out on her valley-sketching, but instead she just leaned against the wall of the place, absently rearranging her sketching supplies, her mind presently on other things. “Do you all really live in there together?” She asked him unabashedly, eyebrows raised in interest. She imagined it would be much like a Hogwarts dormitory, to live and work side by side all the time. But they were grown men – it must be odd. She grinned, a little amused – and a little playful. “Do you never wish for a little more privacy?”
