Ariella's Dragon Series: Ariella's Painted Winter

Gabriel Hartfelt “Da”(started 6-28-25)

There is a saying that my mother used to scold me with when I was younger.

             “Two wrongs do not make a right,Gabriel,” she would fold her arms inward. Pushing her

Ariella's Painted Winter

thick, black hair behind her shoulder. Her dark eyes glaring.

            This was only said after I had yanked my toy away from my twin brother for the umpteenth time. And me being the ‘wild child’ of the family, I decreed, and quite loudly too, “I wasn’t trying to be right. I was trying to play fair.”

            Of course, my mother promptly sent me outside to help my father finish building the woodshed. Followed by an apology made by me and my brother.

            “Timmy!” Ariella’s high-pitched screech could be heard by the next farm over. No doubt. Some scuffling along the floorboards and a low growl coming from (it could only be from him) Timmy.

            I sighed, though trying desperately to press my eyelids shut. In the hopeless attempt that it was all a bad dream.

            Another round of loud noises and now the distinct movement of furniture being tossed aside.

            I audibly moaned while pushing the covers off me. Sitting on the side of the bed, the sunlight pours in the cracks of the shudders. The air chilled my throat. I must have slept on through the early morning… Hurriedly, I throw on a cotton long sleeved and pants.

            I yanked my door to find Ariella’s door opened across the hall and her small makeshift fireplace burnt to ash. Usually, in the winter months we sleep next to the big fireplace. To last us the firewood. Early winter as it is and seeing as how we have another family member living here—who just so happens to purr a dull warmth— and roll in my sleep as I do, I gave into Ariella’s request of sleeping in her own bed.

            The tinkling sound of porcelain breaking startled me from my groggy thoughts. I rushed around the right corner to the noise and stopped dead in my tracks.

            My child and our new addition playing tug of war with Ariella’s worn-out rabbit. Ariella was gripping the head portion fiercely and Timmy was holding the legs in his scaled mouth. Drool seeped onto the poor victim in all this.

And the state of the big den was the messiest I had seen it. Granted before we adopted Timmy, it was just the two of us. Any mess was almost always cleaned immediately.

Crushed quilts strewn across the wooden floorboards, feathers leaking from a small cushion, books thrown about and the glass from—the glass! Right between the two were glass shards poking out in all awkward places.

            I leapt into action. And immediately scooped up the both of them in my wide embrace and circled, roughly, behind the couch. The pair tumbled from my arms like bales of hay from a passing cart. They both looked right about that state too.

            I breathlessly checked them over to make sure there weren’t any gaping wounds. I sighed with relief when there were no signs. I chided myself, ‘Of course there’s not any wild gashes, Gabriel. Overreacting won’t help.’ I recovered my demeanor by standing to my full height.

            The pair stood in front of me bewildered and surprisingly silent. Which was odd for my lil’ Ariella.

            “Now,” my morning voice, telling. “That everyone seems fine on the outside.” I labeled outside like a warning of some kind. I chided myself again. “What exactly happened?”

I was expecting only Ariella to do the explaining. But Timmy chimed in his two cents creating a whirlwind of clamoring words or rather noises.

“Da, he started—”

“Mhm nuhhh—” Timmy’s blue tail swished side to side angrily.

Ariella didn’t care much for Timmy’s tone and made it quite known.

It was still such a shock to me how our little dragon could understand human words,

somewhat. And though he couldn’t speak he used what grunts he could to get someone’s attention. I ran a heavy palm over my face.

Clearly my mother didn’t get enough sleep with my brother and me. And now payback is a heavy toll. I waved my hands to stop them, and their fighting began to calm down. Taking a hesitant glance at the state of the place again, then turned back with a new tactic.

“Who’s hungry?”

Both hands shot upwards, well one hand and a scaly foot.

“I thought so. Let’s see…” I tapped my chin playfully. “Who can grab the dried fruit from the big table the fastest?”

Their eyes lit up immediately and they scrambled to their left to the big bowl in the middle of the dining table.

I smiled, stupidly from ear to ear. ‘Thank Gods that worked.’

While the pair gladly munched their dried fruit at the table, I was able to make my way back to the heart of the mess. I roughly grabbed the broom and dustpan for the glass. Then I slipped my worn boots on along with my blue coat to chunk the glass pieces in a bin near the shed.

The rest of the mess could wait for later, at least now they can’t injure themselves any easier. I picked up where I left off at making some porridge for breakfast, though I peaked at the clock in the big den, it will almost be lunch time by then.

Deconstructed Ariella's painted winter

‘I don’t know how I slept so late’. My own stomach made noises in response. I shook my head. No matter now. I just got to see this through. I stirred the porridge even faster over the stove.

After grabbing some wooden bowls and wooden spoons, I poured Ariella and then Timmy’s bowls as quickly as I could. Finally sitting down, I gave the wood “eating” stove (as I like to call it) a heated glare. Then back at the barren fireplace. I assured myself, that with the house being as small as it is the last embers of the stove would keep us warm.

The rest of the meal went on as usual. Bowls licked clean, we finished and cleaned ourselves up. I peaked at the clock again. Tsk. Chores for the animals will be late today. And the mess still…Tsk. I didn’t want to risk it getting any colder this afternoon.

So, I bundled the two little ones up and we trailed our way into the small barn. Though how to properly don a hat and mittens for a dragon I’ll never be sure of.

Ariella assured me, once we closed the barn door, “This time, Da, I’m going to make sure all the hens are well behaved and give their eggs up very nicely.” She crossed her arms and nodded her head.

If her hair had been dark like my mother’s, I would’ve sworn she was a smaller version of her. “I’ll look forward to seeing your vast rewards. I will work just as hard getting milk from Mrs. Belle and brushing Hank Horse.” I smiled, straightening her woolen headband.

She wriggled from my reach, re-straightening my work on her band. Timmy danced around Ariella, happily, forgetting their fight from earlier. His thick paws pounding the dirt path.

Ariella and Timmy waved goodbye to me as she opened the big door. Ariella quickly grabbed the feed bag. And Timmy followed up behind her quickly. Swiping the egg basket off the hook with his tail.

Ariella Hartfelt “Lil’”

Timmy came prancing out of the door as I pulled the barn door with all my might shut. He padded up beside me, nudging me. I scratched the hardened shell center on his head. His favorite spot.

            Timmy appreciated it by ‘smiling’ the best he could mimic. But still wasn’t quite right… Which was our next lesson: making faces. Until he could learn words better anyway. Da, said when I was smaller he would make the biggest expressions he could. I nodded, satisfied with this new task.

            We picked our way through the snowy parts, along the side of the barn. We approached the tiny house of hens, the place utterly quiet. Timmy and I gave a quick boost of confidence to each other. Taking a big breath, we opened the door.

            A quick flash of rows of sleepy chickens and one lonely rooster tucked away in the corner. A creak of the door hinges. We held our breaths. Too late. The sleeping chickens, no longer sleepy, rushed out to us in a giant storm of feathers.

Deconstructed Ariella's Winter

            Timmy gave his best growls to push them off us, with us now planted outside in the dead grass. The feed bag had thumped over a little ways next to him. The horde of chickens swirled around poor Timmy in response.

I managed to swipe the feed bag stuffing it in my coat. And pushed past the waves of feathers and crawled to the entrance of the little house.

            A quick glance back at Timmy who spotted me at just the right time to shake his head ‘no’ at my questioning eyebrows. He went back as a hen went toe to toe with the baby dragon.

I bit my lip and rushed inside. Since the chickens were occupied with their ‘threat’ there were only stray feathers and… unguarded eggs. Thrilled, I started stuffing the eggs, gently because Da said so, into the pockets of my pants, and jacket. When I ran out of space I tried to walk as fast as I could to the house.

I motioned for Timmy to follow me; his snakelike eyes picked me out immediately bounding over the hens. Then the race was on! The chickens quickly rounded themselves and pattered over to us. I was huffing from the cold air and dashing over to the entrance to the barn.

Timmy flapped his little wings the best he could. But poor Timmy’s body was so much bigger than his wings that he didn’t get off the ground hardly. The chickens were gaining on us—just a few more—Timmy shoved off one the hens—then—

Miraculously, Da opened the barn door just then. His dark eyes quickly took in the situation and shoved the door a little ways. And we shuffled inside. Da pushed the door back just in time before the chickens entered. He looked back at us.

“I don’t even want to ask how it happened this time.” He shook his head, a faint smile hid behind his palm swiping over his face.

“But, Da, it—this was the most—I’ve seen the chickens this crazy,” I huffed out.

Da looked even more on the verge of laughing than before. “Looks… like you came back with lots of goodies.” He peaked at my egg filled pockets and gave Timmy a playful head scratch.

“Oh Timmy—you!” I glanced over at Timmy who, despite all the hen ruckus had kept the egg basket.

Timmy raised his head a little higher gave a small, cheerful noise.

Gabriel Hartfield “Da”

I dusted the pair off and made a small note to myself that I would be going with them next time we did chores. I didn’t know that our chickens had become this territorial…If not just to see the pair fight off the chickens.

            Stopping by the shed to drop the milk can off, we all went inside and peeled away our coats, putting them high on the rafter to dry. We put the majority of the eggs in the top farthest cupboard. And all that was left was to look at this morning’s mess.

            I turned to the guilty faces next to me. “Ariella, can you tell me what happened this morning?”

            Ariella bit her lower lip. This was a first time for both of us. She had never really been a fussy baby or made too big of a mess. If I hadn’t been doing this alone this would be…

            Her pale eyes met mine, resolved. “Timmy and me got up really early and we wanted to play baby with bunny.” Her eyes briefly left mine for Timmy’s. Who gave her a dark look.

Deconstructed Ariella's painted winter

“And I…gave bunny to Timmy to hold. Because bunny needed to go down for a nap. But then I wanted to play with bunny and then…” She stuck her hand out toward the big den. “And we started to fight over bunny.”

            I nodded my head along. “Okay… we’re gonna pick it up together. But then afterwards, Ariella, you’re going to apologize to Timmy.”

            Ariella flashed me pleading eyes. Timmy just pretended that the floor was the most interesting thing in the world.

            I knelt to her level. “Yes, because you had given bunny over to Timmy to play with for a small time. I know you haven’t played games with other kids your age, but we’re learning. It’s only fair.”

            She reached out to squeeze my hand. I smiled and gave her a small squeeze back.

            We set to work. Timmy, surprisingly, loved to combine like with like. And Ariella jumped in to make it a game. Collecting books, quilts, clothes, and toys. As the sun was setting the house was roughly back to normal. We stood back to look over our work.

            “This looks great, you both. Okay, Ariella. Now it’s your turn.” I gestured to Timmy.

            “I’m sorry Timmy…” Ariella mumbled, looking at the floor.

            Timmy seemed to understand, halfway. He tilted his head to side, not remembering this act before.

            “For…?”

            Ariella hurried along. “For taking away bunny from you when you put her down for a nap.”

            It seemed to click within Timmy’s mind once bunny was mentioned. He rubbed the top of her clasped hands. Gradually, the tension in the room dropped. And relief flooded me. ‘I hope I had done it like you would’ve, mom.’

Ariella Hartfelt “Lil’”

Da said he was going to start making supper. And since me and Timmy made up, we could go play. We ran to the big den running around the furniture as if we were flying around the whole farm.

            But we got bored of that after a little while. We were relaxing against the cushion of the couch. I was tossing bits of stray sticks into the big fireplace. Until I heard Timmy flare his nostrils, like a puppy.

I gave him a raised eyebrow. But he ignored me of course and went about finding the smell. His head dove underneath the couch. His tail wagged excitedly as he pushed the small container towards me.

            “Ugh, Timmy….” The small tin was covered in sticky blue paint. Wait—paint! I pried the tin open and peeked inside. And it wasn’t dried!

            Timmy stuck his nose back under the couch to see if there was any more. He pulled out two then three more tins. But my smile soon fell. There didn’t seem to be… Timmy made some happy chirps as he pulled out a couple gnarled brushes. I jumped up, clapping my hands.

            Da looked back over his shoulder at us with raised eyebrows.  I ran over to him with the tins and brushes with Timmy hot on my heels. “Da, look what Timmy found!”

            Timmy looked to be quite pleased with Da’s happy face. Sporting a toothy smile and flapping his wings rapidly.

            “That’s great of you—both of you. Where did you find them?” He looked over at me with a twinkle in his eyes and leaned down to get a closer look.

            “Up underneath the couch. They’re pretty dusty…But who’s are they? You’ve never painted.”

            The twinkle kind of fell out of his eyes. “Well.” He said standing back up to adjust the rag on his shoulder. “They were actually your mother’s paints. I hadn’t realized there were any left after…” He didn’t finish.

Only, “Both of you can paint some torn cloth. Over by the big table. I was going to use that cloth for washing dishes. But I want to see what both of you can make.”

            Timmy rushed over to where Da had pointed, playing with the torn cloth. I stayed planted and tugged on the edge of Da’s shirt. “Momma painted?”

            Da nodded, focused on cutting carrots. “Yes, she did.”

            “Did she like to paint a lot?”

            He seemed to be very interested in cutting the carrots ‘just right’. Again, Da said just enough to answer my question. “She did paint quite a lot. It was one of the many things I fell in love with about her…How about you show Timmy how to paint. I bet he’s never done that before.” He gave me a weak smile.

Deconstructed Ariella's painted winter

I nodded, now interested in teaching Timmy to paint. I ran over to him, but we quickly found out why dragons were not known for painting. Timmy couldn’t grasp the paintbrush with his claws nor hold the handle well in his mouth. We sat on the wooden floor in defeat. Timmy seemed to be the most disappointed.

            If only we had something like what Da uses for Hank Horse… my eyes widened. I didn’t bother telling Timmy as I ran back past Da then to the wood basket next to the fireplace. And grabbed a roll of tough yarn from behind the big table’s cabinet. I ran back to Timmy with my idea.

            “Watch this.”

            Timmy, with big eyes, sat straight up, and his purple wings twitched every now and then. Soon after a few tries I managed to tie a small branch with the end of the brush.

            “Here.” I gave my new toy to him.

            He furrowed with what his eyebrows must be, then I had gestured how I wanted him to use it. Finally, after several motioning attempts, he tenderly put the stick end in his mouth, biting his teeth in for a better hold.

            “Now you can paint,” I cheered gladly. I clapped my hands.

            Timmy awkwardly held the stick as he failed at getting color from the tin. My heart hurt a little watching him. “Can I…” how do you ask a dragon for a paintbrush?

            Timmy tilted his head a little and noticed how my hands were reaching for the paintbrush. He kind of jerked back a little. But upon seeing the hurt on my face he gave in.

            “See?” I gently swished the paintbrush around the blue paint jar. “This color is just like your scales.” I put the paintbrush beside his tail so he could see.

            His face instantly started to show off his toothy smile. He moved his tail towards the brush, hitting it. We both paused for a moment. I wasn’t sure what to do if he did get paint on himself. And I—

            But Timmy didn’t care. Once he figured out that the blue paint did in fact match him he grabbed the paintbrush back from me—and started painting the floor.

            “Oh no no, Timmy,” I yelped.

            But Timmy didn’t hear me as he kept marking up the floorboards. He swished his tail around, nearly knocking me over in the process. He yipped and hollered about in a small circle.

            I remembered what Da had told me about Timmy. When we found him this past summer. We were walking around the fields, checking on the fences. “Now with Timmy, he’s not only a dragon but a baby dragon at that.”

            I nodded along, trying to think of what was so troublesome about that.

            “Remember Mrs. Cellerman’s baby?”

            I did indeed remember little Libby, now that he mentioned her. A bundle of cloth and a small clump of hair. She would cry all the time when we were over. “Timmy doesn’t cry though. He just jumps around a lot.”

            Da smiled, warmly down at me. He swung his arms around and swooped me into his embrace. I snuggled into his hug. Then, just as fast, he put me around his back. He laughed as I struggled to hang onto his neck.

            “Yes, he does do that a lot. But babies need love and patience. He might do things on instinct. Without too much thought behind it. He may do things that make us mad, but he doesn’t know any better.”

            “Mhhhmm.”

            “So we have to teach him the best way we can.”

            . I kind of forgotten that memory with Da. I sighed, annoyed that the end of my dress was already covered in paint. But Da was right. “Timmy,” I tried to mimic Da’s gentle voice from earlier.

            Timmy reluctantly stopped his swishing upon hearing his name. And dropped my makeshift handle stick with a dull thud.

            I winced but tried to just focus on my next words. “Timmy, I know you’re excited. But it’s not nice to take things out of people’s hands without asking.”

            Timmy squinted his eyes, trying to focus on these new words that I was feeding him. After a moment, I thought I would have to show him, but he surprised me. He grabbed my makeshift handle from the pool of paint and nudged it towards me.

            I smiled, excitedly. “Yes, Timmy.” I held my hands open. “That’s very nice of you to give me the brush back.” I clutched the paintbrush and added more paint to it. Then gently handed it back to Timmy. “Okay now we can really paint.”

Gabriel Hartfield “Da”

Whether it was parental intuition or just the noises Timmy usually makes, I sensed that I was in for another surprise cleaning. I let out a steady breath. I poured the rest of the cut up onions and dropped a pinch of seasoning in the big pot.

            But now that…oh. The bubbles for the stew had been decreasing. I leaned down to check the stove’s last embers and quickly turned around. To the wood basket next to the fireplace to grab more wood. I sighed, tiredly. The day was coming to an end, and I was feeling it.

            I was about to turn back to the stove when I noticed Ariella and Timmy hard at work with painting…the floor. ‘Steady, Gabriel, let the kids have fun.’ Every fiber in me was thinking about the mess and what it was going to be…

            Ariella caught me with her radiant smile, so much like her mother’s, and suddenly those fears were gone. “Da, look!” She pointed down where Timmy was swooshing the paint brush this

Ariella's painted winter

way and that. “Timmy’s painting himself on the floor.” She giggled with a painted hand against her mouth.

            I raised an eyebrow and giggled under my breath. Poor Timmy. It looked like a pool of paint to me, but if that’s how our little dragon wanted to see it… “It looks amazing, Timmy. I’m very proud.”

            He acknowledged me by nodding his head and painting even faster.

            Soon supper was ready, and I told the pair to wash their hands before it got too dark. They both hurried as fast as they could through the door then bound back in again to sit. With the sun completely behind the horizon now, we ate our food. Admiring from our seats the masterpiece that Timmy and Ariella deemed, “Too important to wash away.”

Thank you so much for reading the first episode of Ariella's Dragon series. Follow along and explore Gabriel and Ariella's personal lives and how Timmy can wreck (and create) their world upside down.

Minor Delays and poor planning on my end to rush this out. But rest assured that this will not be the case next time. Hopefully crossing my fingers that by next Tuesday I'll have episode 2 ready to go. Now that the Love and Deepspace banner for Rafayel is over with I'll be devoting myself to this new and amazing project.

Thank you so much for your patience and time and energy <3

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