20. Chapter Twenty #2
Despite our morning dip, I could tell he craved a second one. Perhaps tonight, beneath the moon, when Mattias could join us. I felt Caspian perk up and immediately look my way, a smile on his face when I shared the thought with him.
Yes, please.
My dragon has already shared your request with Mattias.
Awe. You’re always so sweet to me.
A pleased rumble rolled through my mind as my dragon accepted Caspian’s praise.
“Was it hard to live like the humans do?” Caspian asked after Hurley capped the highlighters and passed the maps back to me.
“In the beginning, yes. The very nature of their interactions was confusing for me,” Hurley explained. “Extremely standoffish creatures, those humans. Like a moray eel with a toothache always looking for a confrontation with whatever crosses their path, even if they might get eaten in the process.”
“Did you ever turn one into a snack?” Caspian asked.
“Tempting, but no. One of the things that surprised me the most about the people who lived near my tower was the way they’d wander around looking for people they’d punched in the mouth just the week before.
It’s uncanny. Whether they choose to admit it or not, their herd matters to most of them, if only so they can keep around their favorite people to fight with. ”
The moment I started laughing the dragonets added their giggles, pokey egg rolling around jabbing me as my body shook. I’d been around enough humans to agree wholeheartedly, especially after some of the run-ins Upalo, Canyon and I had with them.
“One night, Canyon and I went to a diner,” I said.
“While we waited for our meal, four humans at a nearby table were discussing a book they’d read.
It truly was an in-depth conversation, too.
We could tell they’d enjoyed it. So much so that Canyon and I began to debate the merits of picking up a copy to share, since it would give us something to do when we were bored.
Across the room there was a football game playing on the television.
The local team was losing badly. Several of the other humans in the diner constantly groaned and swore whenever something happened.
I don’t know what since Canyon and I were more interested in the conversation about the book.
One of the men leapt up from his seat, swearing up a storm on his way to the counter, slapped his money down, and demanded a piece of pie. ”
“Rude. Just rude,” Hurley grumbled.
“Are manners not taught among their people?” Caspian asked, hands flying to his midsection, lightly caressing the baby bump as he glanced between us. “Everyone here has been extremely polite.”
“Not everywhere, no,” Hurley replied. “Not anymore, which is unfortunate. Basic rules of civility have flown out the window in many areas which makes it difficult to have any dealings with them. Of course, my eccentricities helped too. They aren’t fond of those who stand out.
More proof that they are truly herd animals at heart.
They persecute those who dare to be individuals.
Such a shame, really, there is such beauty and triumph among them.
They shouldn’t smother it under pettiness and greed. ”
“Did anyone say anything to the rude human in the diner?” Caspian asked.
“Yes, but only after he spotted the men with the book, marched over and demanded to know why they weren’t watching the game like everyone else,” I explained. “Then he launches into a speech about how unpatriotic it was to not like whatever game it was they were watching.”
Caspian tsked and shook his head. “So rude.”
“Yup. Canyon stood before I did, but before he could say anything, one of the men at the table stood up, educated the man about the history of the sport in the same glowing terms as he’s spoken about the book.
The loudmouthed human asked the man with the book if he’d ever played.
He puffed his chest up too and launched in about how he’d scored the game winning point back in high school for the championship game.
The man with the book chuckled, introduced himself, and told the loudmouth to come talk to him when he’d won a national title.
Turns out the guy with the book was some big deal player.
The loudmouth started fawning all over him and practically licked his boots by the end of the conversation.
He even went back to the counter and apologized for the way he ordered his pie.
Afterward, the guys at the table started discussing the book again like nothing happened. ”
“What book was it?” Caspian asked. “Did you guys ever find a copy?”
“Yes. You’ve seen it. The Rose That Grew From Concrete.”
“The one you put in our horde. By Tupac Shakur. I loved the poems you read to me, even if some of them made me cry.”
“That’s the one. The images those words painted made us cry too. We carried it everywhere after that. I’ll have to see if I can find another so Canyon will have a copy too.”
“Hmmm,” Hurley rumbled. “I’ve got plenty of bare shelf space to fill. I’d better jot that title down so I don’t forget it. Travel through those mountains is difficult enough without the burden of books and clothing. It must truly have made an impact on you for you to go through all that effort.”
“I only carried one other,” I admitted. “Wilderness, by Jim Morrison. Our copy started falling apart last year but I hope to find one to replace it.”
Hurley wrote that one down too before we settled into another round of storytelling, the colorful lines on the map drawing my eye from time to time, the region he’d circled in aquamarine constantly drawing my attention until I was certain that was the one.
I’d done it!
I remembered.