1. Celia #2
Another snout began to poke its way out of the earth, and Celia sat back, crossing her legs to watch as it made its way into the world.
They had to come out on their own. She’d learned that if they were strong enough to make it out on their own, they were strong enough to make it into the mountains.
The ones that needed help to come out were the ones that came home with her, so she could take care of them until they were ready to take themselves where they belonged.
After a couple of hours, there were probably fifteen baby dragons milling around her. Flame, Spark, and Sizzle were chattering to them, while the new earth dragons were much less talkative.
That was normal too.
She’d come to know most of the distinctions between the different types of dragons, which was very satisfactory.
When she was mostly confident there were no babies left in the nest that would hatch on their own, she began slowly moving dirt away, digging until she found the first eggshell.
The pile was large, and she began pulling shells out, setting them to the side.
These were thick, healthy shells, she noted. These babies would do well.
A few of the babies were already beginning to make their way north when she reached the first shell that felt heavier—one that was not cracked open at the top. She tapped on it with her fingernail and heard chirping come from inside. One had not hatched on its own.
Celia set the egg aside for a moment and continued her search of the nest, finding no more unhatched eggs. She returned the rest of the dirt and shells back into the nest before turning her attention to the unhatched egg. She tapped on it again, and the chirping began anew.
It was still alive.
The question was why had it not hatched—and was it something she could help with?
She reached into her apron pocket for the small knife she had brought.
It was dull, and the only thing she used it for was helping unhatched baby dragons.
She gently tapped it against the eggshell and watched in satisfaction as it cracked.
The dragon inside began chirping louder, eager to be free, and she smiled as the splintering grew.
The egg splintered once more, and she tapped it gently again with the knife.
A back leg broke through. She waited for the other leg, but nothing happened.
Celia frowned. If it did not have the use of both back legs, it would have had a hard time hatching, since the spike on the back of their hind legs was how these roly-poly types with a softer snout often broke through their shell.
She gently pried the shell away from where the other leg should have been pushing, peering in to see the leg appeared motionless. That, perhaps, she could help with. With its back half free, the baby dragon scooted out backward, spilling into her apron in a sticky mess.
Celia sighed. She would have to do laundry now.
Flame waddled over to check out the new baby, sniffing at it before giving out a small whisper of steam in welcome. The earth dragon nestled in closer, and Celia rubbed along its back with her apron to dry it off. The apron was already nasty, anyway.
“You need your leg looked at,” she said softly. “I don’t think you’ll be heading for the mountains tonight. You can come with me.”
She put the dragon in the basket and waited for her fire dragons to notice that she was getting ready to leave.
They chirped a goodbye to the few remaining earth dragons who hadn’t already started for the mountains.
While the dragon eggs were laid here, where it was warmer, they didn’t wait long before heading north.
She brought the baby dragon home, and once there, she let Flame out of her pocket and lifted the new earth dragon out of the basket and set him on the table.
“Now,” she said, looking him over, “what am I going to do with you?”
His left back leg was still curled uselessly under his torso.
“We’re going to have to get you to straighten that out,” she said, studying intently when she stretched out the leg.
It didn’t hurt him, but he showed no inclination to leave it where it should be–it immediately retracted back to its position once she let go.
“I think perhaps a splint would help,” she said, frowning at him, “but I don’t have extra material to splint it with.”
She looked around the room. The hatchlings had destroyed the last of her scrap fabric, and she wasn’t about to tear up her clothes or her quilt to do this. A sock would be too thick, and she’d ruined her last bandana on the last dragon’s leg that she had splinted.
Celia sighed. She would have to go into town, and that was a longer journey than she’d wanted to make today.
Fortunately, it was still early, and while she was there, she could get more food for the fire dragons. She rarely had babies stay more than a couple of days with her, and with three of them growing fast, they were quickly eating more than she could manage.
“You three are not coming with me,” she said, looking down at the hatchlings.
Spark and Sizzle were chasing each other around the room, Spark flapping his wings to carry himself around and Sizzle running as fast as she could, flapping her wings, though the one was still not healed enough for her to fly.
“You’ll need to be contained,” she said, looking at the two of them. If it was just playing, she wouldn’t worry about it, but these two would cause trouble.
Fortunately, she still had enough of the woven wire she’d used to make the chickens’ home to shape a sort of enclosure.
She used a spare piece of wire—something that hadn’t burned—and put a wet scrap piece of wood over the top of it.
It was thick enough that hopefully they wouldn’t be able to light it on fire.
“No fire,” she said to the dragons as she put them in. “You understand me?”
They seemed to have an innate knowledge of what would burn and what wouldn’t, some sort of instinct. She wasn’t quite sure where it came from, but she was very glad they had it.
All the things they’d burned had been accidents.
She put the babies in and covered them up. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” she said before glancing at the earth dragon. What was she going to do with him?
She sighed and put him back in the basket. He ought to come with her. He was too young to be left alone, and the sooner she could feed him, the better. There were no eggs left after breakfast, and while he could catch some insects, he was too small to be left alone outside.
No, there was no help for it. She reached for her shawl. She could use it to cover the blanket on the basket once she was in town, and it was still chilly enough that she could wear it while she walked, at least until she grew warm.
Celia reached for the knapsack she’d made for herself and slung it over her shoulders, then shook her finger at the fire hatchlings.
“No fire,” she said once again, staring firmly at Spark.
The mischievous dragon let out a trill, and she wasn’t sure if that meant yes or no, but she had no choice, so she set off toward town.
With any luck, she’d be back before they wreaked havoc.
The sooner she could get these fire hatchlings out of her house, the better.