Dragon's Egg

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Dragon's Egg EPB

Chapter One

"Mella! Hurry and fetch the eggs!"

"I'm just going, Mama!" Mella stepped out onto the back porch of the Inn. Despite her mother's words, she didn't hurry, pausing to tie a scraggly red ribbon around the end of her thick blond braid. The sunlight was just brushing the tops of the dark spruce trees, and above them, softened by a faint blue mist, Mella could see the peaks of the Dragontooth Mountains.

She picked up a pair of heavy gloves and a basket lined with soft, damp moss and went to gather the eggs.

On a normal day, Redtail would be peering over the gate, waiting to have her spine scratched. Mella kept a long stick leaning against a fence post for that purpose. But today Redtail was off in a far corner of the pen, and although Zip and Zap edged over to get their ears rubbed, neither seemed as eager for the attention as they usually did. In fact, Zap pulled his head out from under Mella's hand to sniff at the air, his nostrils wide and his stubby wings quivering.

Mella glanced over her shoulder, wondering what he could have seen or smelled, but she saw nothing except the Inn, the stable, and the yard. Everything as simple and ordinary as good plain bread. Perhaps they were in for a storm, though she could not spot a cloud in the sky. Changes in the weather sometimes made the herd nervous.

Mella shrugged and unlatched the gate. Digger stopped poking his long, thin snout into the sparse grass of the pen long enough to look up and snort a greeting. Nothing ever disturbed Digger in his single-minded pursuit of anything edible.

"And hello to you, too, old boy." Mella slipped into the pen and shut the gate behind her. "Now, Angel . . . now, Snow . . ." She patted the warm, scaly bodies jostling about her knees. "Best not to keep Mama waiting for those eggs."

Each of the brooding dragons sat atop a heap of stone and gravel the creature had scooped up with claws and snout. A dragon could, at will, alter the natural color of its scales to blend in with its surroundings. Most of the females with eggs had already done so, changing from warm brown or gray green or dusty black to a mottled mud color. It took more than a quick look to distinguish a dragon from her nest.

Mella crooned to her herd and rubbed their ears as she slipped her gloved hand underneath them to find the eggs, the heat of their scaly bodies bringing a red glow to her cheeks. On most mornings the dragons would be glad to see her, a happiness that always soaked into her like sunlight. But today half the beasts seemed infected with the same restlessness that had taken Redtail and Zap. Blackie even hissed at Mella and raised the crest along her neck in warning as the girl came to kneel by her nest.

"Blackie!" Astonished, Mella sat back on her heels to stare. "What's come over you this morning?" The little dragon with the dark scales looked properly ashamed of herself and nuzzled at Mella's elbow in apology. "I should hope so," Mella scolded gently as she retrieved two eggs. She had a dozen in her basket now, cushioned by damp moss to keep them safe. Some were soft brown flecked with gold, some the grayish green of river stones, some white as fresh cream. All steamed slightly in the cool air as if they'd just come from an oven.

"Mella! Where are you with those eggs?"

Mella's mother had stepped out onto the porch to call her. Leaving Blackie with a quick scratch under her jaw, Mella slipped her hand beneath Vixen's body, hoping for one more egg. The Inn was full of hungry guests to feed. There! Tucking the last egg into the moss, Mella set off at a run across the yard, careful not to jostle her basket or crack its contents.

"What a smell of dragons!" Mella's sister, Lilla, slicing bread at the table, wrinkled her nose as Mella hurried into the kitchen.

"Mind your manners and count your blessings," Mama said crisply. "If Mella didn't have the touch with the dragons, we'd have to hire a keeper for them, and there'd be no more money for your pretty ribbons, my girl." When their mother turned back to the fire, Lilla tossed her head so the green ribbons that matched her eyes and the trim on her second-best dress danced in the air.

Mella stuck her tongue out at Lilla. She liked the tindery, sulfury smell of dragons, no matter what her sister said. Lilla was sixteen and hard to please.

"A dozen, well done." Using only one hand, Mama deftly cracked the eggs into her big blue mixing bowl. "You do have the touch with the dragons, sweet, just like your Gran."

Mella twisted away a little as if she hadn't noticed Mama's hand reaching out to stroke her hair.

"Fetch me some butter from the cold room, love." Mama began to beat the eggs briskly. "Lilla, mind how you slice that loaf!"

After dropping her basket by the door and tucking her gloves in her pocket, Mella ran down the stone stairs to the cold room. Built deep into the hill behind the Inn, its rock walls trapped a damp chill even in the height of summer. Mella, a crock of butter in her hands, had to stop and stand still a moment, squeezing her eyes shut to fight the stinging behind them.

Foolish. It had been nearly a year now since Gran died. And Gran had never had the least patience with crying. "Tears mend nothing," she'd say. "Work mends all."

Nearly a year since Gran died. And then there had been Lady.

Mella rubbed her hand hard over her eyes. Certainly there was enough work at the Inn to mend anything, especially at breakfast time. She ran back up the stairs to the kitchen, the heels of her shoes clattering.