The pattering of rain on the roof woke Ashar from his slumber. Grunting softly, he lifted his head, wings twitching against his back, jaws straining against the strap fixed around them that pinned them shut: he wanted to yawn, but the bridle stopped him, only letting him open his throat for a deep breath sucked through his nostrils. Briefly he listened, but there was no sound other than the rhythmic, soothing rapping of raindrops landing on the roof of the barn; no footsteps, no voices, nothing.

He sighed.

The good part about the rain meant he wouldn't be put to work. The fields and the roads would turn to mud in an instant, so that any cart or plow or whatever farming tool they had in mind to hitch him to would be slow and heavy and hard to move to the point that even the anthros wouldn't want to have him working. And they wouldn't be riding him anywhere either, not when flight would drive endless rain against their faces and their clothes, the wet air and unsteady winds giving them a bumpy ride no matter how he tried to fly. So he'd be spared the embarrassment of having to work for them, trapped in their service by the bridle and the mitts over his paws and the heavy cuffs and chains that hobbled him.

Instead, he would only be bored out of his mind. Ashar was an energetic dragon, loving to fly, to run, to seek out other dragons and race or wrestle or do stunts in the air--when he was free to do so--and in capturing him, the smaller bipeds had put all his energy into their service, hauling good, carrying messengers, even plowing fields. But they seemed to have no intention of letting their work-dragon get away, so on days they didn't want or need his help he stayed cooped up in the barn. No flying, no galloping down a mountainside or showing some pretty dragoness his wing-stripes... Grumbling, he pulled on the leather cuffs that bound his forepaws together, the chains clinking as he pulled them to their limit. Barely shoulder width... It was hard to move faster than a walk in them, let alone the sort of exertion his body loved.

The dragon stretched a little, sighed again, and rubbed his snout against his shoulder, seeking out an itch as best he could without having a claw free to scrape along his scales. Even his great wide wings were bound up tight, wrapped in some rubbery substance and tied together, keeping them useless until they [i]wanted[/i] him flying somewhere. Restless, his tail thumped against the straw that cushioned the floor, and he stretched his legs out again, fighting the cuffs to get his paws beneath him and stand. He wobbled a little, finding his balance, and shuffled over to the door of the stall, wrapped-up paws sliding over the bedding as he went. But there was nothing to see when he swung his head over the half-door, just a dim empty hallway, a closed barn door, and the sound of more rain falling overhead.

Ashar stood there for a little while, not really sure what he was waiting for--food? Company? Something to [i]do?[/i] His jaws worked against the metal bit between them, tail twitching back and forth, paws lifting and setting down again. He even growled, for a moment, but after a few minutes it was plain no one was coming, not for a while at least. So he could only turn clumsily around, take one more long sigh, and ease himself back down onto his side. Maybe if he was lucky the steady, soothing drumming of the rainstorm would soothe him back to sleep, and the day would pass by a little faster, and he'd be one day closer to whenever the anthros intended to set him free...

------
Poor Ashar, sometimes being a beast of burden can be awfully boring! Drakawa did a tremendous job depicting him here, putting in a fantastic amount of detail for Ashar himself, and his gear, and the environment too! Poor dragon's expression really speaks volumes about how he feels about his situation. Love how it came out! Ashar's not quite so happy though, he wants the sky back. >.>

Go favorite the original in Drakawa's gallery here.