A picture says a
thousand words. Write them.
Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a
metaphor, a commentary, or a critique about this picture. Write something about
this picture.
Be sure to tag writeworld in your
block!
Almost asleep; his feet towards
the fire and his travel cloak wrapped around his body, he heard a noise. He
didn’t react, just listened. Trying to ascertain where the noise was coming
from.
A rock in the fire wobbled,
shifted and fell over. It was one of the ones he had built a ring out of to
keep the fire contained and to support his cooking implements.
He blinked.
A rock?
Moved?
In the fire?
It wobbled; it definitely moved.
There was no noise from anywhere
else.
He leaned over, picked up the
stick that he had been stirring the embers with and scooted the rock out of the
fire. When it hit the colder air, it cracked.
He thought perhaps the rock was
hollow and the heat had affected it, but then he heard another noise; a small
grunting sound - very much like that of the baby crocodiles in the swamplands.
The rock jerked and the crack widened.
He wrapped his cloak around his
hand and scooped the rock up. It was probably a bad idea, but the worst it
could do - he thought - was explode and hit him with some shrapnel.
It was about the size of one of
his fists and well rounded. The noise was louder now.
He nearly dropped it when a tiny
snout poked out of the crack. It had a sharp ‘tooth’ at the end of the nose
that the creature was using to break open the container.
It was an egg.
An egg that hatched in fire.
Heck, no. It had to be a dragon’s
egg.
The egg broke into two halves and
the baby fell onto his hand. He shifted it to the other palm and studied the
egg shards. Keeping the shell could be valuable; if only as proof.
The baby was resting, its small
sides panting with the exertion of its escape.
“Hey, little fellow,” he said to
it. It looked around and emitted another grunting sound. “Assuming you are a
fellow.”
It squawked.
“Hungry, huh?”
He placed it carefully in his lap
and started to use his knife to cut some meat from the carcass of the rabbit he
had trapped for his own meal. It unfurled tiny wings with a claw on the end of
each supporting rib. Its shiny black eye noticed the meat and it made another
high pitched squeak and tried to walk on its clawed feet.
“Wait,” he chided. He kept his
movements slow and unhurried. The small dragon grabbed the meat and tossed its
head up to throw it down its throat. Cooked meat seemed acceptable to it. He
fed it small pieces until its stomach was rounded and the agitated noises had
decreased to a rumbling noise he thought might be a kind of purr. It sounded
happy and content. He tried to identify the sex while it was being cooperative
but he had no idea what he was looking at.
It felt hot to him but he knew it
to be a heat of its own and not the remnants of the fire. He tucked it securely
inside his jerkin; making sure the wings were folded and the small animal lay
close to his body where it could hear his heartbeat. It warmed him through.
He checked the other rocks in the
fire but could not see another one of the same colour or shape. It might be
worth spending some time here investigating. Perhaps the egg had rolled down
out of a buried nest; exposed by rainwater or an animal. He settled himself and
he felt the creature relax, too. They would find out in the morning.
Although hopefully, he wouldn't
find the mother alive. That might be an experience he would not survive, baby
or no baby.
~~~~
© AM Gray 2014
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