Dandelyon's Worlds

Dandelion Fluff

Jerica flopped down in the soft grass, knocking the dandelion crown askew so one of the fragrant gold blooms blocked out part of the sky. She held the very first seed-head she’d seen this spring carefully in the sunlight, where it glowed with possibilities. She should make a wish, would make a wish, but which one?

The night before, the sky was clear, and she’d wished on the first star, and just as she’d wished, she woke to a warm, sunny day, this day, full of dandelions and the tiny white starflowers that poked out of the ground where the frost fairies had danced the winter away. There was breakfast too, not just scavenged dandelion leaves and old potatoes, but new-laid duck eggs roasted in the shells and a bit of the nanny goat’s milk after her wobbly black foal was full enough to fall asleep in the sun.

It wasn’t a big wish, of course, but big wishes on the first star in the night always went astray. First stars happened every night, or at least every night that they weren’t shrouded in clouds, and so they had little power past the night itself.

Dandelion seeds were also limited. The seeds didn’t normally travel far, so small, local wishes were more likely to succeed. A blessing for a roof to hold the weather off, or a bit of one’s garden to grow healthy, perhaps. But she could make many such small wishes later.

The first dandelion seeds in a year, however, those held more power. They were a promise for the future, and dandelions were tenacious and long-lived. Without a wind, they wouldn’t travel far, so if she wanted a big change, she would have to wish for something that might reasonably travel nearby, on the road or in the sky, or that might grow nearby. But if she chose wisely, it could change a whole season, and perhaps even bring opportunities to change her life.

She had so many daydreams, traveling to see the world, learning a trade, inheriting a proper farm from an unknown relative, learning she had secret magics. Other dreams were less practical, like finding a musical instrument and the ability to hold a tune, but for all that were perhaps more dear. Or maybe her childhood imaginary friend, a fae with huge green eyes and a ready smile, might turn out to be real after all. Of course, most of those things were too big, or too far away.

This was only a dandelion puff, after all.

The farm might be possible, but she didn’t know farming, just foraging. She set that possibility aside, even if it was more likely than most of her thoughts. Maybe she could obtain a bow and learn to hunt? Again, while possible, it didn’t seem like the right wish for her, for this year.
Jerica stared at the dandelion puff, still perfectly round, the seeds ready to take flight when she directed a proper breath at them. She could wish again, as she’d done last year, for a better supply of foragable foods and medicinals, of course, but she wanted something that filled her mind or her heart, not just her stomach. Or perhaps she just wanted something different.

A flash of purple caught her eye high in the sky, then flashes of green and gold and blue. Dragons. Jerica held her breath for a moment, her attention caught by their beauty as they soared and danced high above her, so high she couldn’t tell if they were wild or had riders. She’d always wondered what it would be like to ride a dragon, and look down on the world from so high.

Oh, but dragonriders were trouble, and wild dragons even moreso. But it was safe enough to admire them from afar, so long as they were just flying past on their way to somewhere else. Jerica lay there in the grass, the dandelion puff in her fingers forgotten, watching. It looked to her as if the blue, green, and gold dragons were showing off for the larger purple one. Might it be a mating dance?

She sat up suddenly, alarmed. It wasn’t safe to be near a brooding female dragon, not unless you were bonded to her. But dragons wanted people to help tend their nests, and that was a difficult and dangerous job. And here Jerica was, out in plain sight, the deep blue sky above her and not so much as a tree to hide under. She had to get out of sight before they spotted her.

A tiny wisp of white blocked her view of the green dragon, and Jerica looked in horror at the puff, no longer perfect and round. What had she been thinking?

As orderly as marching soldiers or knitting fingers, one by one the seeds took flight, spiraling gently up into the air. Toward the dragons. Of course they were. And the last few drifted around her before settling on the ground around her as if the breathtaking joy she’d felt at the dragons’ beauty were a wish and not merely a momentary distraction.

Jerica sighed and sat back down. The damage was done, the wish off and doing its thing. Running and hiding in the trees wouldn’t help now, and as the dragons flew closer and closer, she could see them so much better.

The blue one was long and sinuous, with lacy wings that almost looked like twists of the sky, dusted with the exact same colors as the few high clouds, whites and greys and that bright highlight where the sun hit just right that always reminded Jerica of the first hesitant flames rising up after a spark hit the finest kindling. Its eyes had the same firey gleam. It rode through the sky like a boat on the water, rocking gently through the air.

The green one was more solid, all craggy like a mountain or a boulder that had been smashed apart into long, unlikely shapes and left in the fog long enough to be covered by moss. As it drew closer, Jerica saw that its underside was smooth and brownish, while the upper was fuzzy, more like moss than she’d realized before, and strewn with tiny flashing gem-like flowers in soft whites and yellows. She imagined running her hand over its head, and wondered if it would be soft like moss or spiky and sharp, like the inside of the geode her grandmother had given her.
The gold one was longer than either of the others, coiling through the air without wings of any kind, its dozen or so long legs twined around it like a silver macrame cloak. Its large eyes flashed brightly, a coppery bronze color with unlikely green highlights, and it smiled as if the whole world was one huge, intoxicated party.

And the purple one was all feathers and fringes and embroidery, like a patchwork quilt made from all the lacy and frilly fabrics Jerica had ever imagined, but in the exact same shades of purple and lavender held together by fancy stitching in black, forest green, and all the prettiest blues. Her eyes were the purest swirly white and filled with mischief and joy.

And on her back was a fae with huge green eyes and a ready smile and a face Jerica remembered from her daydreams.



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