A Tale About Dragons

Here's a little story to break up the other story. I'm telling you, awful with titles and names. Here goes nothing!

The day had been long in coming.

She had checked every day to see if had come yet.

It was the same routine: Wait until the sun dropped, watching the window every second of the day, as if she would miss nightfall. Then, when the moon and stars fought for the greatest claim on the sky, she opened her bottom dresser drawer slowly, carefully, so not to wake the house’s other inhabitants. She would take the large, heavy object and wrap it in a silk scarf, then clothe herself with a jacket on top of her nightgown. Slowly creaking open the door to reveal darkness and snow, she would bring a candle into the seemingly limitless abyss of night.

She never had to walk far, just a few yards from the house. She would kneel and place the object lightly in the packed snow before unwrapping the scarf. The object had stood out clearly in the night, even against the white of the snow. Its color was a milky silver that glowed in the darkness, the exterior almost appearing never endingly deep. She had known it wasn’t like that, though, for the surface was just that: something to hold the most beautiful part inside. And she was about to find out what really was inside.

She always had the same argument within herself. Should she get her family, in case something happened? They wouldn’t want to miss it, but she didn’t want to wake them up for nothing. But then, what if she missed something herself? No, she couldn’t take her eyes off it, not even to blink. As her eyes begged to wander elsewhere, the first crack was heard. She grinned and shivered with excitement. There was a full moon that night, so the moon’s power was at its strongest. Of course, it didn’t always happen then, but it was best when it did.

Another crack split through the silent night and the oddly shaped object. It was louder than the last one. Then, after a couple of seconds, another crack, and a split in the egg’s surface was broken straight down the middle. Yes, the object was an egg. It wasn’t a common egg, but neither a rare one. Unless you found one by accident, they cost thousands, and not many places sold them legally. Most trainers kept the eggs for practice and natural experimentations. The egg was about the size of a bread loaf, but ironically, the animal inside would grow thousands and thousands of times bigger. What she had was nothing less than a dragon egg.

Crrrrrrrack! A small piece of shell flew as the rest fell apart. She gasped. It was better than the legends and the tales said. She had never seen one before, only heard of them. Much better. The small creature made a noise that was akin to a chortle. Its skin was the same exact tone of its shell, and the wings stuck to its body to make it seem almost like mutated dog or cat. It stumbled back and forth over the remains of the egg shell, trying to stand. The dragon crowed triumphantly and flapped its tiny wings. It only had the wingspan of about a foot.

The girl smiled and gently reached out her hand. She almost pulled her hand back, though. Touching the dragon would make you a dragon rider, which was what she wanted, but it was a grave decision. She knew not to take it lightly. She glanced up at the dark, snow dotted sky. If the dragon did touch her, her eyes would change from their normal chestnut color to its silver. She glanced back at the little dragon, who continued to stumble around.

“You will need a name,” she said quietly, reaching her hand out farther. “What shall it be? Are you a boy or a girl anyway?” She examined it, still holding out her hand. “Boy. Let’s see…”

The dragon sat down on his hind legs, watching her curiously. He shook the gathering snow off the wide bridge of his nose. He suddenly stood and waddled toward her warily. He glanced up at her, looking right in her eyes. His nose shot out to sniff her hand and brushed it ever so softly.

The girl sucked in her breath as an icy cold shiver ran through her. It started at her hand and spread up to her heart and down to her toes. It was different than the shivers the snow brought her, much different. This was powerful, ancient. She felt more alive in that small moment than she ever remembered feeling. Then the power surged up to her head, bouncing around her brain almost painfully. There was a sharp change right before the feeling disappeared altogether.

“Oro.”

She had snapped her eyes open, not remembering having closed them, and she knew the dragon’s name. Oro. Word. It fit quite well. Everything she had ever heard of the dragons had been legend, and she had never seen one before. She had read about them in books and heard about cousins’ aunt’s mother’s gardener’s son being a dragon rider, but that was all just word. Now, in front of her, she had living, breathing word.

The dragon roared and nuzzled his nose against her, searching for warmth. He curled up beside her. She smiled and reached for the scarf she carried the shell in. In the morning, following tradition, she would bury the pieces. She wrapped the scarf around Oro and picked him up. He screeched and fought against her, tangling the scarf. She hushed him gently, calling his name. She held him against her carefully and began walking back to the house, this time, as a real dragon rider, silver eyes and all.