Farley Dunn

Dragons, Anyone?

Dragons come in multiple shapes and sizes.

Real, modern dragons are giant lizards, with ponderous movements, that is until you irk them. Then they can run like the wind.

Biblical dragons were found in the sea and on land. Were they dinosaurs? There's no way to tell. We only know they were frightful beasts.

My short story prompt today was, "The tiny dragon in her pocket stirred."

So, what sort of dragon would someone carry in her pocket? Certainly not a giant lizard, and hopefully not a dinosaur!

I chose a fantasy version, where dragons can be tamed to live in harmony with their human keepers.

In my story, Aavet Hallam buys an egg at a fair, and she finds her baby dragon begins to take hold of her heart.

Star Ranger

2017 © Farley Dunn

THE TINY DRAGON in her pocket stirred.

Aavet Hallam walked along the dusty street restlessly, aware of its pitiful cries, and unable to do anything to help, until she could find a private place to feed it. It was a dragon, after all, and who knew how to resolve a baby dragon’s issues of loneliness and despair, except with continual snacks? At times, she wished she’d never bought the bright, multicolored egg at the fair, but the tiny creature had imprinted on her now, and there was nothing to be done about that.

She stepped into a shadowed side street to pull out the creature and massage its immature wings. A small gobbet of meat appeared from another pocket, and with the smell of the raw flesh, the dragon began to beg, letting out a high-pitched cry.

“Screee!”

“Hush,” Aavet cautioned, refusing to give it the meat until it did as she asked.

The dragon’s long, forked tongue flicked back and forth, tasting the air, but it quieted its hungry pleading. A row of spiky teeth along the upper and lower jaws was filled in with distinct canines for gripping and tearing. Being a baby, the teeth were small, but they would eventually be replaced with immense spikes the length of Aavet’s forearm.

If the dragon was female.

All dragons were imminently trainable, and they were often seen in extravaganzas and used as aerial beasts of burden. Male dragons were much smaller, rarely larger than eight or ten hands at the shoulders. One could easily be housed indoors, perhaps in a spare room or an enclosed porch. It was if the dragon was female that Aavet had to worry. The dull-colored females had wing size, bone structure, and musculature that made them the workhorses of the sky.

Also, feed a female phosphorus-infused rocks and they could crush them in their gullet and breathe fire, making them great for security watchdogs to keep intruders at bay.

It was another reason Aavet worried about her dragon. All mature dragons craved phosphorus, especially in meat products. The vividly colored males stored it in naturally occurring gullet stones they transferred to the females during mating, but a young, adolescent male could spontaneously torch your house during its sleep. You had to exercise young males daily once they started to mature, and keep them away from females. They only settled down once they reached adulthood, and for Aavet’s tiny friend, that was a good two decades away.

“Do you want it?” Aavet dangled the meat, letting it dance in her fingers.

“Screee!” The dragon flicked its tongue, but the sound was controlled and soft.

“I should give you a name.” She’d been wanting to since the animal was born, but she’d been torn between male and female. It would be terrible to give the creature the wrong gender identification, and it could take days before the first reliable indications of sex appeared. One green eye and one yellow in males, and two golds in females. All were born with blue. It was only in puberty that the males would start to take on the ornamental iridescent sheen that made them beautiful.

Aavet pleaded with the gods-that-be for her dragon to be male, although if female, she could sell it for a good price to a breeder or a businessman. A big female would bring a year’s wages or more. A male would fetch extra, but it was also a status symbol that could open doors for her socially, and that made it worth even more.

 “This is all I have until I can get more.” With a smile, Aavet lowered the meat to the dragon’s mouth, and with a hop, the creature snapped it from her hand, just missing her fingertips. It crunched the gobbet twice, crushing the meat. Its tongue flicked once, then the dragon curled in her hand, tucked its wings at its side, and closed its blue eyes. Its tail dangled, and it twitched as the dragon slept.

The animal began to purr, although it was more of a throaty rumble, the juvenile equivalent of a steam boiler about to explode. The sound came from the gullet as it processed the phosphorus in the meat. After a few minutes, the dragon exhaled a long breath, hot and filled with smoke, and the purring stopped. It was something all baby dragons did, exhausting the phosphorus naturally.

Smiling, she worked the dragon into her pocket, closing the flap to protect it from the sun and prying eyes, and she moved back into the press of the crowd. She would need to visit a meat seller soon, as the dragon was often hungry, and she spied a stall just ahead.

“Meat,” she requested of the seller, and she held out her thumb. “Two handfuls no larger than this.”

“Certainly.” The seller carved a hunk from a carcass hanging from a spike and sliced it into smaller portions. He wrapped them in rough, brown paper and tied it with a cord. “Three silvers, if you please.”

Aavet dropped the coins on the counter and slipped the meat into a pocket. It might last to the end of the day. Once the dragon became independently mobile, it could fend for itself, but not yet. Hopefully, it would be soon, as her accounts were draining fast.

On the way home, the dragon awoke again, but there was nothing Aavet could do. She petted it inside her pocket, and for a time it sucked her finger. It wasn’t nursing, as dragons didn’t nurse. Her skin was simply too thick for its newborn teeth to break.

Once inside, she placed the dragon in its makeshift cage, and she set the package of meat to the side. The dragon softly called.

“Screee!”

“Good, you remembered.” Aavet untied the package and lifted one gobbet of meat, and she offered it to the dragon. As it munched its juicy meal, she stared into its blue orbs, wishing she could know what it was thinking. She laughed as she caught a glimmer of green in one eye.

“Star Ranger,” she said, as she rubbed the scales along his neck.

Star Ranger closed his eyes and curled around her hand, purring softly in a contented rumble.