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Bud was a very strange little fairy dragon (not that any one fairy dragon could particularly be called normal). It was whispered that perhaps his dam lingered a while with a butterfly somewhere along the way.

Not that there was anything -wrong- with that, the whispers would amend.

Bud had six limbs where most of his brethren had four. His horns appeared more antenna-like than anything, and were quite useless for dominance squabbling.

It would have been said that the strangest thing about Bud was his wings; they were quite elaborate and magnificent in comparison to most of his friends' wings, making him quite the subject of envy.

It -would- have been said as such because by far the strangest thing about Bud was the way he spent his free time. His antenna-horns would twitch as he woke, and he would buzz off in a flit of glittery color to shoo harmful caterpillars away from a struggling baby tree. He would toil late into the evenings in an attempt to make a partially sunny patch for some of the smallest violets in the deepest forest. A disgruntled huff from his little nose would send Japanese beetles in another direction.

Bud would work this hard for the well-being of plant life not out of any instinctual drive, but because he had a deep, dark secret (which meant everyone knew about it).

Bud was a flower-holic.

Every spring when crabapple trees would start to flower, Bud could be found desperately inhaling their scents to the point that occasionally whole branches would appear petal-less. Tulips wilted a little as he breathed in deeply. Roses... roses didn't stand a chance. He would pass out in a bed of rose petals, light-headed from bliss, bits of petal hanging from his lips.

Bud would wake up groggily, discover what he had done (again), and would set off to make reparations to the forest for his issues.

Nobody bothered to point out that Bud was already probably doing enough good by pollinating all of the flowers with his face. It saved them a lot of gardening work.