Conditional Reality

We found baby dragons at the front door in a basket made of scales. We immediately looked to the sky for signs of impending doom. Seeing none, we scooped up the babies and brought them inside. They singed our hair with their tiny fiery breaths. They wailed all night. We knew stories of dragon mothers leaving their babies for humans to raise. Such stories never turned out well. One of our elders counseled us to leave the babies on a mountain peak to raise themselves. We promptly did so. Upon our return, we found our village burned to the ground.