Hatchling's Day

In a small village far from Illandra, a tiny dark colored dragon came bounding down the cobbled lane that led through the marketplace. The little hatchling ran down the street, darting and weaving her way between people, horses, a mule, and small herd of goats and sheep she thought were rather stinky. She quickly darted away from them. No time for stinky goats, the little dragon thought. She had fish to eat. Which meant she also had fish to steal.

Her name was Aylynaryn, and she was not supposed to be out on her own. Yet that had never stopped her before. Mother was napping and Father was working and Aylynaryn was bored. Naps were boring. She did not want to take one. So as soon as mother had dozed off curled around the youngling, Aylynaryn had slipped free of her grasp and darted away. It was easier to get away from Mother than it was from father. Father woke at the slightest squeak and tightened his grip on her every time. But Father was working and Mother was sleeping and Aylynaryn was playing. Ayly wasn’t even supposed to be able to get out of the home on her own. Yet she’d long since found a way to clamber up this and that, squeeze her way through a window and clamber back down to the ground below.

Ayly knew she wasn’t supposed to go out into the town by herself, but that only made it more fun. It was exciting to do things she wasn’t supposed to. Besides, she knew Mother and Father would never be mad for long. And though they didn’t know it, she’d heard them talking about being little hatchlings and sneaking away as well. They knew how fun it was. Besides, she also knew that Mother and Father had talked to all the many funny-smelling humans in the town and told them to please watch out for Aylynaryn because Aylynaryn was very good at sneaking away and don’t let her go down by the river because the current was strong and don’t let her go by the old bull because he might trample her. Ayly wouldn’t go in the water anyway because it was cold and she wouldn’t go by the bull anyway because the bull was stinky.

The closest Ayly usually got to the water without her parents around was the small bridge she was now crossing. It was a wooden span with a simple arch to it, covered with a gently sloped roof to keep the sun and the rain off those who crossed it. A railing on each side carved to resemble vines spanned the bridge, with a lattice work fence beneath it that looked like crisscrossing leaves. Ayly poked her nose against one of the holes between the delicately carved wooden leaves, peering through the lattice at the water below. It looked cold, and swift. Something silvery flashed beneath the surface. Oh, a fishy! Perhaps the water wouldn’t be so bad after all.

No, Aylynaryn told herself with determined hatchling resolve. The water was cold and wet. And there were fish in the market she could have while staying dry. Plus, she could steal them. It was more fun to take something when someone didn’t know you took it. Then they’d wonder where it went and just when they couldn’t possibly live with such an unsolvable mystery any longer, Ayly would tell them that she ate it. Aylynaryn of course was oblivious to the fact that the fish scales that coated her muzzle after such an ill-gotten meal always proved her guilt anyway. Just as she was oblivious to the fact that the fishmonger knew she was taking the fish every time.

Aylynaryn crossed the wooden bridge, and stopped at the other side. She stepped onto the soft grass that lined the riverbank beyond the cobbled thoroughfare and spent a moment peering at the immense blue waterwheel plunging over and over into the river. It was connected to something called a mill and she didn’t know what a mill was but she did know that the waterwheel was blue and she liked blue things. The mill itself had a gently sloped roof with a point in the very middle, and people were often going in and out with wheelbarrows and carts full of one thing and coming out with sacks of something else. Ayly didn’t care about that. She liked to watch the waterwheel. It was blue. It had little white patches here and there which made it look very much like the sky. To Ayly it looked as though the sky itself was constantly rotating, reaching down into the water as if to quench an unstoppable thirst.

That made Ayly thirsty too. But not for the river. The river water was too cold, it felt like winter in her belly. She licked her muzzle and turned back to the cobbled road. She liked that road, it felt a little rough and funny under her paw pads, but it gave her excellent traction. She could really sprint when she ran on the main road. She liked to sprint. It made her tired in a good way and she liked how everything looked so blurry when she ran past. Even if now and then she ran headfirst into something and hurt her nose.

In no time at all Ayly was sprinting down the road again. All the colorful wooden buildings that lined it stretched out in a beautiful blur of blues and purples, greens, reds and yellows. She liked the buildings along the main road. They were bright and cheery like a patch of flowers. She liked flowers, they were fun to smell and fun to eat and fun to play in even if the bees tried to sting her when she squished them.

As Ayly ran through the market district, the noise around her grew steadily. The chatter of men and women talking and laughing was a constant sound in the background. Though the town was not a large one, the market was always a busy social area during the day. They did plenty of business among themselves, and also plenty of business selling goods and supplies to people from Away. To Ayly, anyone not from her home came from Away. That included travelers and farmers and shoppers from other little hamlets that lay nearby. Ayly could always tell who lived in her town with her and her family and who came from Away. People from Home either paid her little heed, or gave her little treats and a pat on the head. People from Away often yelled things or seemed shocked. Then there was laughter. Ayly liked laughter. Of course when Mother or Father was with her, then people from Away seemed surprised.

The market was also filled with other sounds that Ayly had long since grown used to. Merchants called out as they hawked their various goods to one and all. Livestock and other animals brayed and baaed, mooed and barked, clucked and quacked and squawked. Ayly giggled. She wanted to make noise too. She stopped in the center of the market area, ignorant of the team of horses pulled to a sudden halt behind her as she gave her biggest, most ferocious roar. Sure to strike terror in all her foes.

“Raaaaaahhh!” Ayly roared and stomped a paw.

A few people glanced at the trumpeting hatchling and laughed. One of them called out, “Hello, Ayly!” The rest seemed to ignore her. Behind her, the man driving a cart filled with goods casually led his horses around the little dragon. He was very careful to give her a wide birth to avoid running her down in case she suddenly darted his way. He laughed to himself, shaking his head.

Ayly looked around, baring her little hatchling teeth in frustration. None of her foes seemed to have been terrified. Oh. Wait. She didn’t have any foes. No wonder they weren’t terrified. Cause surely if she had foes, that would have terrified them indeed. Oh. Wait. What were foes again?

Ayly walked up to the nearest merchant, busy selling sacks of grain from behind a large wooden stall. Grain was boring. She didn’t care about that. She reached out and grabbed the bottom of a trouser leg. She tugged on it insistently until the man with funny looking hair under his nose looked down at her. He smiled at her and she smiled up at him, swishing her tail.

“Hello, little Aylee.” Humans always used her shortened name. They couldn’t say the big one. And they said it too long but she didn’t mind. Humans did their best. “Out on your own again? Does your mother know?”

“Yes!” Ayly said. She wasn’t lying, nuh uh, not at all. She was just answering the first question and ignoring the second.

“Did you want a treat, then?” The man opened up a cabinet in the back of his stall, and reached inside. He pulled out a small, circular, sweet smelling pastry. “I’ve got a honey cake if you’d like it.”

“Yes!” She reached up with a single paw, opening and closing it a few times until the man handed it down to her with a laugh.

Ayly took the cake in her free paw, then plopped herself back on her haunches next to the merchant while she eat the delicious treat. It was sweet, a little dense, and tasted like honey and cookies and cream and lots of other things Ayly loved. Father and Mother loved them too. By the time she’d finished getting crumbs and honey all over her snout, she’d almost forgotten what she was going to ask the merchant about. What was it again? Something about being terrified? No that wasn’t it. She tried to lick the stickiness off her paws as she thought about it.

Oh! She remembered. “Foes!” Ayly suddenly chirped, giggling.

The merchant fetched a spare, clean cloth and dunked it in a barrel of water nearby. He crouched down and began to gently wipe down Ayly’s face and paws with it. “Better get that beautiful blue face all cleaned up so your mother doesn’t get mad about you getting yourself all dirty, hmm?”

Ayly scrunched her muzzle a little, tilting her head back and forth as the man wiped down her dark blue snout. “What’s a foes?”

“A foe?” The man blinked at the odd question. He delicately lifted her front paws and began to wipe them down as well. Such beautiful, striking paws the young hatchling had. One a soft blue color, and the other a deep purple, like a darker lilac. In all his days, he’d never heard of a dragon with purple coloration, save of course for Ayly’s mother. Granted he was hardly an expect on the oft-reclusive species. “A foe is an enemy. Someone you don’t like, and they don’t like you. But adorable little hatchlings like you shouldn’t have any foes at all.”

“I‘m adorable,” Ayly said in agreement, beaming. When she felt she was clean enough, she pulled away and bounded back towards the main road.

“What do you say, Ayly?” The man laughed.

Instead of the thanks the man expected, Ayly simply called back, “Honey cakes is good!” Then she was off down the street, leaving the vendor laughing and shaking his head.

Aylynaryn made straight for her next destination. The lovely honey cake had eased the ache in her belly but not quelled it entirely. No, to fully sate a growing hatchlings hunger there could be only one solution. Fish! Fishies, fishies, fishes. Yum. Fishies, fishies, fishies. In her tum. She was nearly drooling at the delightful prospect as she darted and wove between boots, hooves, and horseshoes. She even resisted the nearly overpowering urge to pounce upon the bushy looking tail sported by the Kor…koreeg…korga…the wolf person. So pounce-able it looked. Yet Aylynaryn had urgent matters of a fishy nature to attend.

Aylynaryn followed the scents of fish all through the market. Though the marketplace was crowded with as many scents as it was people, the tantalizing aromas of fish yet to be eaten was like a beacon to hungry hatchling nostrils. Ayly skidded to a halt beneath the colorful banners flapping in the breeze that marked the fishmonger’s stall. The banners were a dark red color almost the hue of the drink people sometimes poured for Father. Emblazoned upon them was an image of a giant silver fish. Aylynaryn wished she could get a fish that big, but she was willing to settle for a regular sized fish. She slunk up behind an empty wooden crate, and poked her blue-muzzled face out from behind it to spy on the fishmonger.

The fishmonger was a big human with an equally big, round belly. Aylynaryn liked his belly because she suspected it meant he was always stuffed with fish. Lucky him. Ayly liked fish. Mother teased Father about it being his fault because Father liked fish too. The human’s hair was almost as red as the banners that depicted his wares, and he always wore it long and tied behind his head for some reason. It made him look as though he had a long red tail coming out of his head. Silly humans, tails went on butts.

Butts. That made her giggle. Ayly waggled her own, and then ducked back behind her crate when the fishmonger looked her way. She couldn’t steal fish if he knew she was there. Ayly peeked back out again, and the fishmonger looked away. She breathed a sigh of relief, turning her attention to his stall. He had a few barrels and tanks set up with live fish swimming around in them, and fun as those would be to hunt, to steal one she had to be quick. In and out as swift as she could unsheathe her claws and draw them back in. Which meant she had to wait until he had one of the fish laid out upon the wooden counter at the front of his stall, ready to split it open with his knife.

Ayly did not have to wait long as the monger soon retrieved a medium-sized fish with silvery scales and a blue strip from one of his barrels. He pushed it down on the counter, and it wriggled and flopped until he whacked it on the head with a wooden mallet. The crunch made Ayly wince, but she understood why. Cause fishies was food and food felt pain if you ate it while it was still alive. Father was quite clear about that. So you killed food and then you ate it, cause it was okay to eat things but not to make them suffer. That made sense to Ayly, if she ever gotten eaten she wouldn’t want to be alive for it either.

Ayly was glad she always had good timing. Every time she arrived to steal a fish, the Fishmonger was just putting one out on the counter. Any moment now, he’d go to fetch his knife and other tools, and she’d slink up and grab it. The routine was always the same. How clever of her to figure it out, and how lucky that the Fishmonger always had to look around for his knives.

Sure enough, the fat man with the red head-tail soon turned around. He put his hands on his hips, humming to himself as he tried to figure out where his blades were. Lucky for Ayly he couldn’t see them right in front of himself. Ayly dashed out from her hiding spot, straight for the counter. She hopped up on a crate nearby, clambered to another one, and leapt from that to the counter. Then she snatched the fish’s tail in her jaws. Slime and scales were no match for a determined hatchling’s sharp little teeth. She leapt clear off the counter with the fish hanging from her jaws. Little black wings edged in shades of purple and blue fanned instinctively at the air for a brief moment before she landed. Giggling to herself, she dragged her fish off behind the stack of empty crates to enjoy her feast.

With a few deft swipes of her claws, she’d worked all the troublesome scales from the fish just as Father had taught her. That left the fish with just soft skin and crunchy bones and succulent flesh. Ayly sunk her teeth in and began to eat, purring to herself. She loved her fishies any way she could get them. She loved them fried, and boiled, baked and grilled, and certainly smoked. And she loved them fresh and raw. And she loved them stolen and she loved them…

“Hello, Aylee,” said the Fishmonger as he peered over the crates, grinning down at her.

Ayly slowly swallowed her mouthful of fish, her silvery eyes wide enough for the golden flecks to shine through. Uh oh. Busted. “Hello,” she said meekly.

“Enjoying your fish?”

“…Yes!” She beamed, unable to lie about that particular delight.

“I was wondering when you’d stop by again.” The man folded his arms above his rounded belly, grinning. “Let me guess. You’re mother’s sleeping and you snuck away?”

Ayly wasn’t supposed to lie. But she didn’t have to answer questions, either. So she simply dropped her little snout and went back to eating her fish. The fishmonger simply laughed, and vanished a moment. Soon he returned and came back to crouch near Ayly with a wet cloth. As soon as she’d finished devouring her lunch, he gently wiped down her muzzle and her paws with it. Ayly didn’t mind. It was nice that the humans wanted to keep her clean. She’d get in trouble if she went home all dirty. With any luck, she’d slink back under her mother’s foreleg right before Mother awoke and Mother would be none the wiser.

“So have you seen the big black bird yet?” The Fishmonger grinned as he dried off her blue snout.

“Big black birdy?” Ayly’s silver and gold eyes went very wide. Then she narrowed them suspiciously. She’d seen plenty of ravens before. And vultures. They were big and black and had ugly heads and smelled bad. She didn’t want to see those again. “How big a birdy?”

“Oh, the biggest you’ve ever seen, I’m sure. Almost as big as your father.”

Ayly gasped. A big black birdy as big and black as her father? She had to see that. “Where?” She jumped up onto all four paws, hopping around in a circle, chirping in excitement. “Where? Where? Wherewherewhere? Where’sa bigblackbirdy!”

The Fishmonger picked up the remains of her fish to dispose of them, and pointed to the south. “Last I saw him he was at the south end of town, towards the apple orchard.”

“I’mma see the big black bird!” Ayly called out as she dashed away, right back onto the cobblestone road. The fishmonger yelled something after her but she couldn’t quite hear it over the sound of the clattering horseshoed feet all around her when she ran beneath the bellies of a team of horses. Silly horses, always in the way. Ayly chirped and sang to herself as she dashed down the street. “Birdy, Birdy, Imma see the birdy! Birdy, birdy, big black birdy!”

Ayly ran fast as she could away from the marketplace, streaking down the street in a blur of dark-hued hatchling exuberance. She leapt over a cat trying to make its way across the road, giggling at the startled yowl the animal gave. Silly cat. All fluffed up. Ayly paid it little heed and continued to streak down the cobbled thoroughfare until the cobblestones were replaced with simple hard-packed dirt at the edges of town. Up ahead of her stood a large grove of apple trees. Some of the trees were already heavily laden with fruit, others covered with a beautiful array of pink and white blossoms.

Sure enough, sitting beneath the trees was the single largest bird that Ayly had ever laid eyes on. The Fishmonger was right. The big birdy nearly was as big as Father. She’d never seen such a thing. And he had more legs than other birds, too. Most birds only had two legs, but this big birdy had four. A four legged birdy. How exciting. She couldn’t wait to tell Mother all about him. Oh, but then Mother would know she’d snuck away again. But she couldn’t keep such exciting news to herself, could she? Decisions, decisions.

As she neared the grove and the sweet scent of apple blossoms tinted the air, Ayly slowed to a creep. She slunk forward, watching the bird. A wooden fence constructed of thick, slightly knotted boughs ran along the side of the dirt road here, and Ayly crawled beneath the fence. One little step at a time, she crept towards the bird, her eyes wide. She hoped it wasn’t the sort of bird that liked to eat little things. Hawks liked to eat little things. They ate mice. Father taught her that. And to this big bird she was like a little scaly mouse. She’d best watch out. If he tried to snatch her away for dinner, why she’d smack him right on his sharp looking beak. That would show him.

Ayly was so fixated on the strange appearance of the big black birdy that she forgot she was trying to sneak up on it. She stepped on a few dried leaves, and the bird suddenly rose to all fours and spun towards her. Silver edged feathers flared up all around his head, and at the back edges of his wings when he displayed them. Green eyes fixed on the little hatchling, and a grin spread over the big bird’s beak.

“Well hello, my dear,” the bird say, his voice a silken rumble. “You must be…”

“I’m notta deer!” Ayly said, aghast that the creature would dare think her prey. Any shyness or fear she might have had around the oversized black bird was forgotten in the face of such a grave insult. She stomped her little paw and lashed her little purple tipped, silver spotted tail. “Deers is food!”

“Yes, they certainly are,” the Black Bird agreed, clicking his sharp beak. His stomach rumbled ominously. “I could eat a whole one right about now.”

“But…” Ayly stepped back from him. “I’m notta deer…ma’member?”

“Of course,” The creature said, dipping his head. He ruffled up his feathers a moment, and then settled them back against his body, crown feathers and all. “You’re a dragon. And a mighty brave one to approach a gryphon all by yourself.”

“Giffid?” Ayly blinked. She’d heard Father talk about such a creature now and then. So they looked like big fat birds with extra legs. How interesting. “I never meeted a giffid before.”

“That’s gryphon,” the black giffid said with a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.

“That’s what I sayed!” Ayly tilted her head, not quite comprehending the difference.

“Not exactly,” said the giffid, muttering under his breath. “How about Krek? Can you say Krek?”

“Kreg?” Ayly tilted her head.

“No.”

“Kek?”

“No.”

“…Kel?”

“No!”

“Lellumgurb?”

“What?” The gryphon stared at her in astonishment. “That’s not even…” Then Ayly burst into giggles, and the gryphon realized he’d been had. “Oh, very funny.”

“Krek the Giffid!” She bounced on her paws a few times. “Krek The Giffid!”

“Close enough, I suppose.” He beckoned her forward with a paw. “Let me have a look at you.”

Aylynaryn slunk forward, already certain the “giffid” wasn’t going to eat her. She turned a little, presenting the side of her body for him as if to show off her unusual colors. “I’m adorable,” she assured the black bird.

“Yes, you certainly are,” Krek said, looking her over with a smile.

The little dragon was right about that, actually. His old friend had done well for himself with his daughter. The hatchling was a beautiful thing, covered in a set of very striking colors. The majority of the little dragon’s body was covered in inky black scales. Her face and muzzle held a “mask” of blue that was darkest at the tip of her nose and palest around her eyes. The blue darkened into black again by the time it reached the top of her head. Both her hind paws were also black, but her front paws bore a mismatched set of colorful scaly socks inherited from both her parents. The left one was pale blue, like her fathers, but the right was a rich royal purple hue, inherited from her equally strikingly colored mother. Her little wings were both edged in rippled hues of the same two colors. Her otherwise ebony belly also bore a few royal purple splotches and highlights, as did the tip of her tail. Patches of silver speckles and spots adorned both her haunches and the length of her tail. Her eyes shone like her fathers, but in opposite effect, silver with golden spots.

“Quite the beautiful little thing you are,” Krek said, his voice unusually hushed. Then before Ayly could dash away, he reached out and hoisted her up in his front paws, settling onto his haunches at the same time. He smiled at her, cocking his head like the curious bird he so resembled as he peered at her. “Your father must be ever so proud of you, and deservedly so.”

Aylynaryn had no response for that. She was far too busy being in a state of complete shock that this strange giffid had just picked her up. Her eyes were wide as could be, her jaw hung open and her tail along with all four limbs hung totally limp. She was nearly catatonic with indignity. How dare he. Who was he to pick up the Queen Of All Things She Wished To Be Queen Of without her explicit permission? And to top it off, the gryphon actually pulled her in to start nuzzling at her, making little cooing noises. Oh, that was enough of that. Aylynaryn lashed out with her front paw and swatted the gryphon atop his beak as hard as she could.

“Bad birdy,” she chastised him, hissing.

“OW!” Krek squawked, jerking his head back and shoving her away from his face. He winced in pain, his mobile beak twisted up as it stung for a few moments. “That hurts! We don’t hit, my dear!”

“I dinnen hit your deer, I hitted you!”

Krek gave an exasperated hiss, working his beak a little. “We don’t hit birds, or anyone. It is not nice to hit.”

“It’s not nice to pick me up!” Ayly thoughtfully informed him before she began to wriggle and squirm.

“Then maybe I should just hold you up here till you learn some manners.”

Now that was an interesting suggestion. Ayly didn’t like being picked up without permission, and she couldn’t reach the gryphon’s beak to deliver another mortal blow. Maybe she could bite at his paws till he let her down. She kicked and squirmed a little more, whining. Krek smiled at her a moment, then glanced up when a shadow swooped overhead. From her vantage, Ayly couldn’t tell just who was circling above the trees, but the wing beats sounded familiar enough. Distinctly different from Mother’s. Something heavy thumped to the ground nearby, and Ayly could hear leaves and branches rustling as someone brushed against them.

“There you are,” Krek said, a happy smile breaking out across his sore beak. “I’ve been waiting for you. And look what I found running around.”

“That,” came a very familiar voice. “Is mine.”

“Yes, I’d gathered as much,” Krek said, soon passing Ayly to the new the arrival. “She’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” said the older dragon. He hugged Ayly with blue paws against his ebony chest plates. Then he nuzzled at her with a blue marked snout. “Hello, my love.”

“Hello, Father!” Ayly said, happily nuzzling at her father. “I found a big black birdy!”

“You certainly did,” Ayly’s father said, smiling. “I hope he hasn’t given you any trouble, or I shall be quite cross with him.”

“He picked me up,” Ayly said, huffing. Then she giggled. “So I hitted him on the beak!”

“Good girl,” Ayly’s father said. He licked her, and gently set her down. She promptly ran around in a circle, then pounced on her fathers tail, wrestling with his spines. Her father turned his attention to the big black birdy, smiling at his old friend. “Hello, Krek’Sa’Krathiss.”

The black gryphon known as Krek’Sa’Krathiss smiled, and moved forward to embrace his dear friend. He wrapped both forelegs and wings around the dragon, and soon the dragon was hugging him back. “Hello, Valaranyx.”

Hatchling's Day

Monday, August 26, 2013

What is Hatchling's Day?

A Hatchling's Day