DRAGONEL by Joyce Frohn, page 2/4
It was the bleating of a sheep that woke him. For a moment he couldn't remember why he had slept in such an awkward position. Then the baby started crying. Atarax lifted it from its nest. It was a mess. He wiped it off on the tapestries and fed it again, then wrapped it in the liner from a suit of armor, the remnant of a knight who had tried to kill him. He laid the infant back on the shelf he had found it on; it didn't seem to be moving much yet, so he didn't think it would fall off.
Atarax was hungry, and the bleating of the sheep only made his stomach ache more. But he had chores to do. He dragged an old iron kettle from the back of his cave and filled it from the river in his cave . When he lugged the kettle outside, past the sheep, it jerked on the rope until it had wrapped itself around the post it was tied to. He dropped the soiled cloth in the kettle and put the lid on. He raised his fire and blew at the kettle. When the lid went flying and a cloud of steam boiled out, he lifted the tapestries out and laid them on gorse bushes to dry.
He bit the sheep's head off. In the cave, the baby began to cry; Atarax gulped the sheep down, then hurried to pick it up. His nose wrinkled. It had already soiled its new bed. He sighed. He would glad when he passed this little thing to the Healer.
He wrapped it in the blankets it had been in when he found it and headed for the village.
His wings were tired, so he walked. His wing tip hit a stack of dried grass. He was pretty sure a stack that high had been placed there on purpose. He considered trying to replace it but decided it might be better to just apologize. He sat back on his haunches to switch the baby to his other paw. The spade tip of his tail hit something. It took him several tries to find it. He wondered what could possible stored in something so small. Then the dog whimpered. It seemed all right. At least it was moving fast enough. As his first mate always said about dragonels, "If they can outrun you; they're healthy enough."
Putting his wings up, Atarax wrapped his tail around him, and picked his way through the tightly packed cluster of buildings. Maybe he could convince the Healer to move closer to him. At his age he'd rather talk over the past than hunt up a new mate. Finally, he put his wings up and wrapped his tail around them. The villagers were avoiding him, as usual. Atarax was grateful for that; he hated dealing with hysterical humans. Atarax sat back, and knocked on the window of the Healer's tower.
"Atarax. How good to see you." He pushed back his long, braided hair. "What brings you here? Have you found someone ill or hurt?" He smiled, for a moment. "Have you come to compare our families and mates? Or to try to cheer me up?" The healer brushed a tear out of his eye.
"In a way, both." Atarax smiled, being careful not to show his teeth. "I found a human child." He held up the bundle in his paw.
The healer leaned out the window, gathered the child up, then unwrapped the small bundle. "A sweet little girl." Atarax sighed. A female, too bad, for the Healer surely would want an apprentice, but maybe...
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