DRAGONEL
by Joyce Frohn
ong ago in Wufolk county, the a dragon, Atarax, landed. He walked into his cave; it had been a long flight from Stonehenge, and he was tired. Suddenly, Atarax roared with rage. Someone had been messing up his hoard: the opal egg his first mate had given him, the ruby from the ring of Genghis Khan that his third mate had given him and—
Something was crying. He looked around. On a shelf on the pile of tapestries from Italy that his fifth mate had given him, something small moved. He scooped up the wriggling bundle A red, wrinkled face peered at him and howled. A human baby. Had someone stolen his treasures and left this child as payment? Did the thief think he would eat the child? Cradling it in one paw, Atarax unwrapped the child. It was smaller than the smallest new hatched dragonel. He wondered how long ago it had hatched. Maybe it was the same age as the baby that the Healer had lost? Maybe this little thing would soothe his pain. Atarax sighed; he had missed their talks. And it would be easier than tracking the scent rail and then trying to give the child back. So many peple were so hard to talk to.
He was glad he didn't have a mate right now. A female would just see this tiny,
helpless thing as a snack. He'd had a few mates that felt that way about their own dragonels, too.
Atarax looked the child over, trying to determine whether it was male or female. It seemed to be the same blotchy pink-blue all over. He touched it with his tongue. It was cold. Atarax cursed. He was being as bad as some uncaring female. This little one must be hungry, too.
The best thing to do would be to get some hot food into it. It would be hard. It had been years since he'd fed a litter of dragonels and without having sat on a nest of eggs. He took a deep breath and sat back on his tail. Taking a deep breath, Atarax sat back on his tail,wrapped the infant in his left front paw, and began to use his right to open his pink brood scales. Parting them hurt more than he remembered. He glanced down. The skin was pale pink with no oozing milk. He held the baby to the bare patch of skin and waited, but the soft little creature had no milk teeth to bring his milk. Sighing, Atarax pulled his claws over the soft skin. His clear milk dripped out, mixed with a little blood. The baby sucked the milk off his brood scales. As soon as it pulled its head away, Atarax pushed the scales back into place and licked away the excess milk. If this little thing was like his own babies, it probably needed to be burped. He knew it was far too fragile to be thumped against the floor the way his dragonels were. When he brought it close to his face, it spit up. He wiped his left eye with his tongue. Squeezing a bit seemed to do the trick. The baby gurgled and fell asleep.
Atarax scratched his beard, trying to figure out how to keep this tiny thing warm. It was far too soft for him to tuck under his wing. An idea popped into his head. Holding the infant close to him, he began to raise his fire. The flames licked at a pile of gold coins until it glowed red. Then he made a nest of tapestries and silk and put the baby in it. He yawned. He wrapped one arm around the nest and went to sleep.
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