Read Online Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) by James Stevens - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James Stevens
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fire!”
He used the sword to cut down some branches and made a crude spit inside the cave. Then, using the staff like a crutch, he gathered small armloads of branches from the surrounding brush until he had a good-sized pile of firewood stacked in the back of the cave. The effort of walking back and forth caused his ankle to throb, and he winced as he slid to the floor. He made a small pile of twigs and leaves under the spit and reached into his sack for his flint box. As rummaged around inside the bag, his fingers found the hidden pouch containing his ring. He pulled it out and slipped it off the cord before placing it on his finger like he had a million times before.
Finely crafted of gold, the ring was engraved with the image of a dragon with its mouth open and its teeth exposed. A finely contoured head connected to a serpentine body with wings folded back. Its long tail wrapped all the way around the ring until it reconnected at the head to make a complete circle. The fine detail even showed tiny scales covering the body. Holding it up, he compared the artwork to Fulgid, who sat still as a stone in the cave entrance, facing outside. The artist had come very, very close to imitating Fulgid.
Looking closer at the golden dragon, Ammon realized how much he’d grown in just a few days. When Fulgid hatched, he was about the same size as a weasel but with a tail as long as his body. Now his body was about the size of a cat, and his tail had grown at least another foot! Ammon whistled softly, and Fulgid’s ears swiveled towards him. How long before he was full-grown?
As if listening to his thoughts, the dragon left the entrance to sit beside him. Stretching his golden nose out, he sniffed at the ring on Ammon’s finger then rubbed his head against his hand. Ammon scratched the dragon behind the ears and watched as Fulgid closed his eyes and slowly laid his head on Ammon’s lap.
Even in the darkened cave, the polished scales glittered like faceted sundrops. The scales down his sides were the largest and Ammon could see a hundred reflections of his own face looking back at him. They grew steadily smaller as they descended down the legs before stopping abruptly half way down each of the four toes on each foot. Three toes faced forward and the forth faced back like a thumb. Each toe ended with a curved talon almost half as long as Ammon’s finger. Fulgid pushed his head under Ammon’s hand again when he stopped scratching. With a smile, Ammon stoked the dragon's head. He found it comforting to have the dragon close.
Fulgid never lifted his head off Ammon’s lap when he pulled the flint box out and started the fire under the spit. They stayed in that position all afternoon while Ammon slowly turned the pheasant. The only sound in the cave was the hissing of fat dripping into the flames. When the bird was done, he let the flames die down to coals. It was still early, and he wasn’t hungry yet, so he left the bird hanging on the spit and leaned back using the rolled blanket as a pillow and listened to Fulgid’s soft snores.
Ammon closed his eyes. It would be days before his ankle would be strong enough to walk on, and perhaps even longer before he could try to weave through the boulders and brush. For now the cave provided good shelter and Fulgid seemed quite capable of providing food, but still he was concerned he might be found. He was only a few days walk from the city, and he wanted to be much further away than he was, but that couldn't be helped. For now it would probably be best to keep Fulgid inside the cave during the day. His gleaming scales would catch the sunlight, and any dragons flying nearby would easily see him. Could he teach the dragon to stay in the cave though? He’d never had a pet before and had no idea where to even begin.
As he lay there thinking, his head began to ache, and he wished he’d thought to take bark off a few willows when he was in the swamp. The tea he could've made would have helped with
He used the sword to cut down some branches and made a crude spit inside the cave. Then, using the staff like a crutch, he gathered small armloads of branches from the surrounding brush until he had a good-sized pile of firewood stacked in the back of the cave. The effort of walking back and forth caused his ankle to throb, and he winced as he slid to the floor. He made a small pile of twigs and leaves under the spit and reached into his sack for his flint box. As rummaged around inside the bag, his fingers found the hidden pouch containing his ring. He pulled it out and slipped it off the cord before placing it on his finger like he had a million times before.
Finely crafted of gold, the ring was engraved with the image of a dragon with its mouth open and its teeth exposed. A finely contoured head connected to a serpentine body with wings folded back. Its long tail wrapped all the way around the ring until it reconnected at the head to make a complete circle. The fine detail even showed tiny scales covering the body. Holding it up, he compared the artwork to Fulgid, who sat still as a stone in the cave entrance, facing outside. The artist had come very, very close to imitating Fulgid.
Looking closer at the golden dragon, Ammon realized how much he’d grown in just a few days. When Fulgid hatched, he was about the same size as a weasel but with a tail as long as his body. Now his body was about the size of a cat, and his tail had grown at least another foot! Ammon whistled softly, and Fulgid’s ears swiveled towards him. How long before he was full-grown?
As if listening to his thoughts, the dragon left the entrance to sit beside him. Stretching his golden nose out, he sniffed at the ring on Ammon’s finger then rubbed his head against his hand. Ammon scratched the dragon behind the ears and watched as Fulgid closed his eyes and slowly laid his head on Ammon’s lap.
Even in the darkened cave, the polished scales glittered like faceted sundrops. The scales down his sides were the largest and Ammon could see a hundred reflections of his own face looking back at him. They grew steadily smaller as they descended down the legs before stopping abruptly half way down each of the four toes on each foot. Three toes faced forward and the forth faced back like a thumb. Each toe ended with a curved talon almost half as long as Ammon’s finger. Fulgid pushed his head under Ammon’s hand again when he stopped scratching. With a smile, Ammon stoked the dragon's head. He found it comforting to have the dragon close.
Fulgid never lifted his head off Ammon’s lap when he pulled the flint box out and started the fire under the spit. They stayed in that position all afternoon while Ammon slowly turned the pheasant. The only sound in the cave was the hissing of fat dripping into the flames. When the bird was done, he let the flames die down to coals. It was still early, and he wasn’t hungry yet, so he left the bird hanging on the spit and leaned back using the rolled blanket as a pillow and listened to Fulgid’s soft snores.
Ammon closed his eyes. It would be days before his ankle would be strong enough to walk on, and perhaps even longer before he could try to weave through the boulders and brush. For now the cave provided good shelter and Fulgid seemed quite capable of providing food, but still he was concerned he might be found. He was only a few days walk from the city, and he wanted to be much further away than he was, but that couldn't be helped. For now it would probably be best to keep Fulgid inside the cave during the day. His gleaming scales would catch the sunlight, and any dragons flying nearby would easily see him. Could he teach the dragon to stay in the cave though? He’d never had a pet before and had no idea where to even begin.
As he lay there thinking, his head began to ache, and he wished he’d thought to take bark off a few willows when he was in the swamp. The tea he could've made would have helped with
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