Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) (5 page)

As he sat by the fire staring into the flames, he suddenly felt the dragon release his shirt and drop to the ground. Not daring to move, he
watched and waited. Very slowly, the little dragon crawled past him and towards the fire. Still covered mostly in soot, a few glittering gold scales showed through the dirt as it curled so close to the fire Ammon thought it might burn. It stared through the flames at him with unblinking amber colored eyes and they sat that way for some time before the dragon’s lids drooped sleepily, the warmth of the fire apparently making it drowsy. Ammon leaned back against the boulder and studied his unusual traveling companion. Somehow the tiny creature didn’t seem quite so threatening now that he could see it clearly and he marveled at its long tail and sleek lines. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. His own lack of sleep was finally catching up as the afternoon sun beat down and soon Ammon's head nodded to his chest as he drifted off.

He awoke just as the evening stars began to appear and he groaned. It was too dark to travel now and although he’d put some distance behind him, he knew his best chances were to get as far away from the city as possible. Something moved against his leg and he looked down in surprise. The dragon was no longer near the fire, instead it was stretched out on his lap exposing the gold scales on its stomach. The tiny head hung down from Ammon's lap and the sound of soft snoring filled the air. Ammon almost laughed it was such an odd sight. Unable to resist the urge, he very carefully reached out and gently stroked its belly. The dragon grunted softly before opening one eye and looking at him. Then with an indignant snort, the eye closed and the snoring resumed.

He chuckled lightly to himself. “It appears I have a baby dragon for a pet!”

He pulled the blanket from his sack and
carefully stretched it out to cover them both. Tomorrow they’d have to make up for the lost time, but tonight they’d rest. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

Something
brushed against Ammon’s face and he turned his head. It tickled him again and he opened his eyes slowly, blinking at the bright light. The first rays of the morning sun streamed through the tree branches overhead. Droplets of dew clung to the blanket in little beads and the distant chirping of birds filled the air. He groggily lifted his head to look at the dragon sitting impatiently on his lap. The golden scales were clean now, and nearly blinding to look at as the sunlight danced across its sides. Its inquisitive face peered up at Ammon with its head cocked to one side and its ears perked forward. Sad amber eyes looked back expectantly as if searching for something. It looked lost.

O
verwhelmed with pity, Ammon gently stroked the tiny dragon behind its ears. He honestly felt sorry for the magnificent little creature. Having hatched only yesterday it probably had no idea how to survive on its own and he certainly had no idea how to care for it. Like most commoners, he knew little about dragons other than they were the mysterious and fierce beasts ridden by the knights that protected the city. He’d never seen one up close before, only from a distance as they flew high overhead. Remembering the size of the eggs in the Nest, it suddenly dawned on him how large they must be when full-grown. Most of the eggs had been big enough that he could have fit inside one himself, which meant the adult dragon that laid those eggs must have been massive!

The dragon hopped off his lap and he felt something roll across the blanket. When he pulled back the folds
there were three speckled pheasant eggs. Surprised, he gingerly picked them up. “By the dragons teeth!”

It wasn’t long before he had them boiled over small fire. His stomach growled noisily as he eagerly broke the shells and tossed the hot eggs from hand to hand waiting for them to cool. Popping the first one in his mouth, he offered the second one to the dragon. Its golden neck stretched out and the tiny nose sniffed the egg. With a snort it turned away and curled up beside the fire like it had the night before.

Ammon sniffed. “Well, I’m not be the best cook, but one could hardly mess up boiled eggs. You need to eat something too!” Again, the dragon snorted but otherwise showed no interest, so Ammon gratefully ate all three.

Getting up to refill his cup from the spring, Ammon heard something move in the leaves a few feet away. Before he could even turn his head, a gold streak shot across the grass in front of him.
He nearly dropped his cup in surprise when the dragon lifted his head up with a mouse in its jaws. In one quick swallow, it was gone, and the dragon slipped silently back through the tall grass to reclaim its spot by the fire.

Ammon
filled his cup and sat down to look at the dragon. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t have to worry too much about feeding you, eh?”

The dragon stretched and yawned.

Ammon shook his head, “As long as you don’t mistake me as your next meal!”

Lifting its head slightly and pinning its ears, the dragon glared at Ammon. They stared at each other for a moment before Ammon shifted uncomfortably. "Okay, I’m sorry!" With an indignant grunt the dragon put its head back down and closed its eyes.

Ammon studied the little golden body curled around the fire. The flames danced across its mirror-like scales making it appear to be a part of the flames. He could easily carry the dragon in one hand which made it difficult to imagine it growing to the size of a small house. How fast did they grow? And more importantly, how much would it eat? Hiding in the woods would be difficult as it was, but once the dragon reached its full size it would be impossible not to be noticed. Although it was unfamiliar to him, he had chosen to go north because it was largely unpopulated. But he knew hunters sometimes would trek deep into the woods for months at a time, and sooner or later the dragon would be seen. He would have to get even further away from the city than he had originally thought. Perhaps he could escape into the snow-covered mountains he could see in the distance.

He picked up the sword and buckled it around his waist as he looked around. A few small hardwood saplings grew sparsely between the scattering of rocks. He picked out an ash tree about three fingers thick that had no branches near the bottom and drew the sword. Holding it awkwardly in front of him he swung it like an axe and to his surprise, the sapling fell easily as the blade slashed through with little resistance. He measured out two sword lengths and cut the top off with another swipe. He slid the sword back into its scabbard and brought the sapling back to camp and began stripping the bark off with his knife.

The fire had died down to coals and the dragon sat very close to the glowing embers with its long tail curled around its feet watching him curiously. Small ears flickered at each sound the knife made as it scraped along the surface of the wood. A piece of bark broke off and landed in front of the dragon. Cautiously, it sniffed the bark curiously before dragging it closer with a clawed foot and playfully shredded it with its teeth.

Ammon grinned. “I suppose I should at least give you a name if we’re going to be traveling together.”

The dragon, satisfied the bark was thoroughly chewed was again silently watching him. Ammon picked up a strip of bark and tossed it, laughing as the dragon leapt several feet to snatch it in mid air. The golden scales flashed brightly in the sun and Ammon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He suspected the dragon was male, although he wasn’t sure why.

“How about Fulgid? That would certainly fit you.”

The only answer he got was the crunching of bark.

“That settles it. Fulgid it is.”

Ammon whittled away at the sapling, making the thickness equal the entire length. It would work nicely as a walking staff as well as a spear for fishing if he found a stream or pond. He was nearly finished when the little dragon suddenly stood up on his hind legs, ears pointing forward and eyes focused intently on something in the treetops. Ammon turned, expecting to see a bird or a squirrel, but what he saw instead made his blood run cold. Between the trees a patch of blue sky opened towards the east, and there he could see the distant shape of a dragon perhaps a mile away. It flew in a sweeping pattern, first north, then south. Ammon swallowed hard, they were searching for someone or something, and it had to be him.

Before
he could stand up, Fulgid scrambled onto his back. Ammon looked over his shoulder and saw the claws gripping his leather shirt tightly as the dragon settled himself into place. Jumping to his feet, he kicked the shavings under a rock, then stamped on the remaining glowing coals, scattering the ashes. Then he grabbed the sack and quickly slipped it over his back and scrambled over the rocks to where he’d cut down the sapling. He dragged the discarded branches under a large cedar that had boughs reaching almost to the ground. He unrolled the gray oilcloth and lay down on his side and covered up. The small cloth wasn’t big enough to cover all of him, so he curled into a ball and pulled the cut branches over him. Luckily the cloth was almost the same color as the surrounding rocks, and if he hadn’t already cut the branches he doubted he would have had time to camouflage himself before the dragon flew over.

He lay there for several minutes not daring to breathe for fear of being heard. He stayed motionless and silently cursed himself for not watching longer to estimate how long before the dragon flew overhead. He could see the ground just beyond the cedar boughs, but not up. Impatiently he waited a few more minutes, then slowly reached for the corner of the cloth to push it back. A shadow suddenly passed overhead and he heard the beat of huge wings as it flew directly above him. Fulgid gripped hard on his shoulder, but neither one moved. A minute went by, then another, then the sound of beating wings passed again, but not as close. Half an hour passed before he would again dare to look out from under the cloth.

Once he was sure it was safe, he emerged, drank as much as he could from the spring, and started making his way north as fast as he could. Pushing his way through the thick brush with the oilcloth draped over his shoulders in case he needed it, his eyes moved constantly between the sky and the ground for a place nearby to hide. By the time the sun had reached its climax, they had traveled several more miles into the increasingly harsh terrain. Several times he had to stop and backtrack because of a steep ravine too difficult to cross. Twice he came across small streams that offered a cool drink of water and a brief relief from the heat. Fulgid came off his back only once for a sip of water and immediately climbed back beneath the sack again.

Ammon was actually glad the dragon decided to ride on his back. Despite how fast Fulgid could move, he was still a baby and he doubted the little dragon had the stamina to keep going on foot. Besides, it was less likely that his glittering scales could be seen from the air beneath the sack.

They kept moving at a steady pace the rest of the afternoon, picking more cattail roots when the passed through another marsh. There were berries in some of the low bush, which he grabbed by the handful and ate as they went. They didn’t fill his belly, but it helped keep his mouth moist.

They slowed to skirt around a large grassy plain because there were no places for cover if the dragon flew overhead. For half a mile they walked just inside the woods on the edge of the field before finally reaching the other side. Ruefully Ammon thought about how much time they could have saved by walking straight across, but the
risk of being seen outweighed the benefits. Just beyond the field in the hollow of a dead tree, Ammon found a large bees nest, and he paused for a few minutes and tried to think of a way to extract some of the honey without getting stung. He decided not to and moved on. Running through the woods from an angry swarm of bees wasn’t going to help his situation at all.

As evening turned to twilight, it became increasingly difficult to travel. Long shadows blended with branches and roots that stung his face and tripped his feet. In the fading light he
made his way towards a large tumble of rocks on a small hill. He would have to make camp for the night and would need a fire to cook the roots he had gathered. A fire out in the open, even under the trees would be a beacon in the night for anyone looking for him. He had no idea how well a dragon’s eyesight was, but he suspected they could see better in the dark than he could. With luck he would find a sheltered place under those rocks that would be fairly hidden from all directions.