The afternoon turned to early evening, and he considered unrolling the other blanket and wrapping himself in it for warmth against the night chill. He also needed food. The problem was that the food was rolled in the blanket Tom rested on. Movement would wake Tom, and he needed rest more than Gareth needed food or blanket. He pulled the left oar to center the boat again and decided he should have pulled the other oar because the boat almost spun. He corrected his mistake and watched closer to ensure the boat stayed centered.
A muffled chirp of a screech sounded near his feet. It drew his total attention. Then another sounded. Louder, more piercing and even frightening. His eyes focused on the leather bag on the floor of the boat. He saw furious movement inside the bag and shell. Much more movement than ever before.
Gareth tentatively pulled the flap back and peered inside.
A tiny, serpentine head with wide red eyes peered back.
A dragon.
It emitted another screech and then reached down and tore away a portion of shell clinging to its hide. It climbed partially out of the jagged hole and became stuck. It shook and twisted forcing its small body out of the broken shell, whining the whole time. Smaller than a young chicken, it already looked too large to fit back inside the eggshell.
The tiny dragon face appeared fierce, the tongue flicked out, tasting the world for the first time. It was a miniature version of the dragon mother that had carried him over the mountains. Its large red eyes glinted, and a sickening odor made Gareth pull away in hopes of finding fresh air.
Gareth reached down and flicked the flap back over the dragon.
It scampered partly out from the bag, its attention focused only on Gareth. It looked at him and turned the tiny head from side to side, eyes fixed as the tongue darted in and out. It pulled lips back to display an impressive row of tiny jagged teeth. Then it cooed a soft gurgling noise and scrambled the rest of the way out of the bag. Gareth grabbed the bag and tossed it back over the ugly dragon, then shoved the bag, including the dragon, further away with his foot. No, you can’t push it where Tom’s sleeping. It might bite him. He grabbed the strap and pulled it closer again just as the tiny black beast crawled from the bag to the bottom of the boat and stretched as leisurely as if it had done it a hundred times, never looking away from Gareth.
The leathery skin looked dank and wet. The red eyes stayed focused on his. Sniffing continually the nose wrinkled, and leaned closer to smell Gareth’s ankle. It spread tiny black bat wings and shivered. It cooed again, sounding lonely and scared, never looking away from him.
Can baby dragons spit acid? Gareth pulled further away.
Gareth watched it instead of the river, and when he lifted his eyes for a quick check to make sure the boat was centered in the river, the dragon darted forward and leaped. It landed on Gareth’s knee and clung with tiny claws digging in like needles. Gareth sat as still as possible, although he wanted to dive over the side of the boat and drown the ugly beast.
It clung to him and sniffed a few more times, the tongue darting in and out. Gareth ignored the claws and tried to keep his face away from where the dragon might spit. When the dragon shifted its head to one side, he moved his to the other. The more he turned and twisted, the more the dragon moved to remain face to face. One quick shove and it would go over the side of the boat and into the water. Can dragons swim?
Then it reared its head back and emitted another scream, louder and more insistent. The tiny claws dug in. Gareth wasn’t sure he could dislodge it if he tried. He clung to his chest, now. At every opportunity, it climbed a little higher.
Gareth blew in the small face to keep it away from his chin, as he dropped his hold on the oars. Only the oarlocks kept them in the boat.
The dragon pulled away and stared at Gareth. It emitted a soft coo that eventually rose to a shrill scream.
Gareth placed both hands on the dragon and tried to gently pull if free of his clothing, but the thing clung to him with surprising strength. Gareth tugged harder.
The dragon threw its head back and let out a screech like a cat that had its tail caught in the door. Gareth half stood, the dragon still clinging to him and drawing in another lung full of air, probably for another shriek.
“I think it’s trying to tell you it’s hungry,” Tom said softly. “And since you’re his mother it’s your duty to feed it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Mother? Me?” Gareth’s eyes locked on the ugly beast of a dragon clinging to his shirt with claws as sharp as needles piercing his skin.
Tom watched, a smile threatening to spread, as if this was something he saw and enjoyed, daily. “Reminds me of baby ducks. The first creature they see becomes their mother-for-life. They’ll follow that ‘mother’ around like it’s the true mother, and they never change their minds about who she is. I’ve heard of them following men, dogs, geese, and once a sow.”
“I’m not this thing’s mother!” Gareth lifted the dragon gently with both hands and placed the dragon on the floorboards. The dragon’s skin felt damp and oily. A sniff confirmed the nasty smell was coming from the dragon. He wiped his hands on his pants several times.
The dragon remained huddled on the floor until Gareth glanced up at Tom. Then it darted back up his leg and settled in his lap, again.
“I wonder what baby dragons eat,” Tom asked in a calm voice, as he used the back of his hand to unsuccessfully hide a smile before unrolling his blanket. He found a piece of dried meat in the supplies Seth had provided for their travels. The jerky consisted of several large strips of venison. He broke it into smaller pieces and held one out, near the dragon, trying to entice it to eat. The animal screamed in terror, running further up Gareth’s leg and curling into a defensive posture at his waist, the same place where Gareth had carried the egg for days in the bag. It snorted as if trying to spit acid.
Gareth gingerly placed one hand under the dragon and lifted it from his lap, then sat it on the floorboards of the boat again, careful to keep his hand away from the snout and teeth. Stunned, the chick stayed there for a few heartbeats, then spun and raced up his leg, again. He said, “Listen, we’re not going to do this all night, and you will not shred my thighs with those claws. Make yourself comfortable somewhere else.”
Tom tossed the strip of dried meat to Gareth. “You’re doing fine. A good mother protects her young. You try feeding it, Mama.”
Gareth scowled but held the meat near the tiny nose between thumb and forefinger. The dragon looked, sniffed, and sprang too fast for his eyes to follow. The meat was in its mouth. Fast!
“Be careful with that thing or you’ll be missing fingers,” Tom handed him some more jerky. “Swap seats and let me take the oars while you feed your dragon so it doesn’t try eating me tonight. By the way, you have yourself a fine example of a male black dragon.”
“There are others?”
Tom gave him a questioning look before continuing. “Dragons come in reds, grays, and browns. A few whites, too. But blacks are the largest, smartest, and most feared. Even other dragons are scared of them. I’ve never heard of anyone stealing the egg of a black, in fact, I didn’t know any exist. Black males are myths.”
“There was only one dragon that we ever saw around Dun Mare. So, I thought all of them were black.”