A tiny bundle of red fur and red scales sat at his feet and stared up at him with mismatched, glowing eyes like some poorly thought out hallow’s eve decoration. Only it was alive.
“The hell is it?”
“I’m no expert, but I think that’s a dragon.”
B’ard slid a sidelong glance at the buxom young woman seated on the wood fence beside him. It was the same narrow-eyed, inside of mouth chewing expression he’d given her a thousand times before. She ignored it with the same doe-eyed, delightfully cognizant but faking obliviousness expression she always did.
“Smart ass,” he muttered.
“Wait, last week I was a smart mouth. Are only my ass and mouth smart? What about my tits?”
The narrow-eyed look narrowed further.
“You have to admit, I have a brilliant set of tits,” Lenoth said with a grin as sunny and bright as his look was dour and disgruntled.
B’ard turned away with another mutter under his breath, crossed his arms and looked down at the small, apparently draconic lump.
The tiny drake sat back on his haunches, waggled his minute arms across his belly in an approximation of crossing them, and grumbled under his breath.
B’ard raised a brow.
The dragon did the same.
“Awww…. He likes you,” Lenoth said.
“No.”
“Oh come on. It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do today.”
“First off, what I do with my day isn’t anyone’s goddamn business. Second off, I’ve got to check on the ranch these ijits put together. Told them I’d help them stabilize the fence. Third off, I don’t babysit. You take it.”
“Hm. I would, but it’s not me he’s following.”
B’ard huffed and endevoured to prove his companion wrong by stepping around the hatchling. The little red drake dropped to all fours and waddled a step after him. He stepped in the opposite direction. It did the same. He glowered. The little dragon turned down the edges of its stout muzzle in a poorly modeled mimicry of his scowl.
“Git,” he said.
“Grah,” the dragon said.
Behind him, Lenoth cackled.
“I got shit to do today dammit. Take the damn thing,” B’ard groused.
“Nah,” Lenoth sang back all too chipperly. “This is too much fun.”
B’ard shook his head and struck off toward the stable areas of Nidus Caeligenus, trusting that the hatchling would eventually get tired or bored of trying to keep up.
He was wrong.
Throughout the rest of the day, wherever B’ard went to, the hatchling persisted in being a small, grumpy shadow. It mimicked his movements and blatted out a little noise that copied him in tone and intent, if not in word, whenever he layered insults upon any of the hapless space-farers turned farmers that now occupied that arid mountain top.
Though irritated by the constant coos and questions regarding his unintended companion, B’ard was surprised to find that the hatchling did not get underfoot. Though it trailed him doggedly, it seemed to know the difference between his “getting somewhere” walk and his “doing something” walk, and remained at a safe distance whenever he had to move equipment or hammer in fence posts.
Toward the evening, despite repeated attempts to double back, walk double time, or otherwise obfuscate his path, the little red hatchling remained at his side. He’d finally begun to accept the persistent little drake as a new facet of his life, like back pain or popping knee joints, when a frazzled-looking young man came tearing across the dusty ground toward him.
The man had clearly not been having a good day based on the way his hair stuck up in a myriad of directions, the stains on his shirt, and the wide, glassy glaze to his eyes, as if he’d crossed a battlefield to reach the rider instead of just following the worn, dirt paths snaking around the Nidus. He stared not at B’ard as he drew close, but at the little red hatchling at his side. Though fatigue etched deep lines into the man’s face, the sight of the hatchling seemed to restore a little vitality to his soul.
“There you are,” he said with a relieved chuckle. The man dropped down to his haunches and held out his arms toward the hatchling. The hatchling blatted out a sour note and shuffled behind B’ard’s boots.
“This your bond?” B’ard asked, unmoved by the man’s clear dismay at the hatchling’s actions.
“Hm? Oh, no. I’m just watching him for a while.”
“Not your strong suit, is it?”
The man grimaced and pushed himself up to his feet. He dusted off his pants, which didn’t do much other than move the dust to a new section of tan canvas.
“I got distracted and he just took off. I didn’t think he’d wander far since this place is so new to him but… um…”
“Wandered far enough to be following me around for several hours. Your name, son?”
“Lazar,” the man answered quickly, sticking a hand out in B’ard’s direction. “I’m… also new. Working under Kenza-nivori. The hatchling assistant.”
Each sentence he spoke came in halts and starts, as if he were unsure of his own name and title.
“B’ard,” B’ard said.
“Nice to meet you,” Lazar said, and then, “Um… are you one of the locals or a rider or…? I’m sorry, I’m really new. I don’t know everyone yet.”
“Not knowing everyone is a state that’s like to be with you your entire life. No, I ain’t local. I’m from the Warren. Just here helping with the set up. What’s the deal with the little one here? I haven’t heard word of a new clutch on the sands since that big one a while back.”
“Oh, no. He wasn’t hatched here. He’s just going to be raised here until he’s old enough to find his place in the world. Isn’t that right, Silverfish?”
At the sound of the name, something twinged in B’ard’s mind. For starters, it was a terrible name for a dragon. Then again, he’d dubbed his own stupid self Silver in a bygone age. He’d run under that name for a long while. Lenoth had taken up the moniker of Dagger, and together they’d been notorious.
Maybe it was the nostalgia, or maybe it was the way Silverfish bleated out an off-key noise that sounded very similar to “ijit” when Lazar bent down to try to catch his attention again, but something hooked in B’ard’s gut and refused to let go.
“Listen, Lazar, right?”
The young, disheveled young man bobbed his head enthusiastically.
“Listen, Lazar, it’s clear this little one doesn’t want to go back with you. He’s been dogging me all day long. Now I’m not committing to any sort of long term deal, but maybe you could let him stay with me a while. Least until he decides elsewise. That’s the end goal, ain’t it?”
“Oh,” said Lazar. Then his voice took on a slightly morose note. “Oh. Well. I guess I could see if that would be alright. I mean, I can’t think of why it wouldn’t be. You’re a dragon rider, right?”
B’ard nodded, though inwardly he questioned the rider part. Halcioth was more of a waddler these days.
“Alright well, I can make some inquiries, if you wouldn’t mind waiting a bit.”
B’ard nodded again, then turned and eyed his red shadow. Silverfish stared up at him with one red eye and one blue widened to maximum puppy dog effect.
B’ard bent down and hooked his hands around the dragon’s chubby midsection. He lifted him up without so much as a squeak of complaint and held him at eye level.
“Silverfish, huh? Might as well get you acquainted with Halcioth while we wait.”
“Maah,” said Silverfish.
“When you’re done your inquiries, we’ll met you at the bar,” B’ard said. He tilted Silverfish against his shoulder, tucking one arm up behind the dragon’s behind to support him.
“Oh. Um. The bar? Is that the best place for a hatchling?” Lazar called after him.
B’ard waved as he walked away.
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