Waldemar Meets Urmel

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The mists hung thick this morning, like thoughts that dared not speak. Waldemar trudged through the Dornwiesen Valley, his coat speckled with dew, his duffel bag over his shoulder. The air smelled of mushrooms, wet moss, and a hint of something unknown that buzzed in his ears like a barely remembered dream. He hadn't chosen this path, but had followed it—a feeling stronger than any plan. Between two old tree stumps, over a streambed full of pebbles that clinked when stepped on. Suddenly, there it was: a sound that didn't belong in the forest. Peg... clink... sniff. Waldemar paused. Then again: clang... smirk... and something that sounded like a small cough, followed by a tiny shower of sparks. He crept through the bracken and roots, pushing a few branches aside with one paw—and held his breath. In a hollow of moss lay a giant egg. At least, what was left of it. The shell was cracked, delicate as porcelain, split open from the inside. And in the middle of this shattered nest crouched a creature that looked as if the sky had fallen in love with a salamander. Small, scaly, shining in constantly changing colors—sometimes turquoise, then amber, with tiny wing tips on its back and large, glowing eyes that seemed to reflect the entire forest. The creature sneezed. A wisp of sparks rose, hovering between them. Waldemar crouched cautiously next to the egg. "Well, my little one. Who are you?" The dragon creature shuddered, slid deeper into the shell, and stared at him like a raindrop at the sun. "I won't hurt you. Honestly. I'm just a raccoon with a penchant for apple carving and puzzles. Both harmless." He slowly pulled a piece of apple from his pocket and handed it to the creature. It hesitated, sniffed – and then snapped, chewing as if it had never tasted anything better. "Aha," said Waldemar contentedly. "A gourmet. I think you need a name. Something with sound, sparkle, and slickness. Hmm... Urmel?" The little one sneezed again – and this time it was a sound, not an explosion. Three notes, clear as bells, floated into the air and stayed there, like soap bubbles of music. "So Urmel," said Waldemar. "Welcome to chaos." For the next few hours, Urmel never left his side. He padded through the undergrowth, sniffed at beetles, tried to flap his wings (it looked more like stumbling dances), and seemed to be watching everything Waldemar did closely – as if he wanted to learn how to be a raccoon. Waldemar showed him how to drink drops of water from leaves, how to disappear into the foliage when a hawk circles, and where the best place for a nap is when you have nothing to do but be. "I think you've been hidden for a long time," he said that evening as they camped under a fallen tree. "Not just the egg. You. Everything about you.