Fiction Friday; The Hatching

A friend asked me about where Clyde came from. Here is my answer.


The crack of the shell came all at once, accompanied by a frightening tumble and a sudden stop. Dizzy and confused, the little beast clawed clumsily at the membrane that trapped him, and felt it give way. The shell fell away in sharp, brittle shards and chimed against the cool stone like fired clay. He stumbled free, tripping over dragging wings, tangling his tail in slimy bits of the membrane that had held his prison together. Before anything could even begin making sense, there was an enormous black thing descending toward him.


The hatchling squeaked in fear and cowered, instinctively rolling over onto his back to present the dark thing with his claws. It stopped, hovering over him like a blurry shadow. A blurry shadow with shining orange things on top that flickered and danced in a most mesmerizing way. He stared at it, forgetting why he was frightened as it slowly lowered toward him again, coming into focus as a huge dark face. There was the soft black nose, the kind red eyes, and that dancing, shining orange light on top between her curling horns.


Her smell filled his nose, musky and sharp, and the enormous mouth opened to pick him up, enveloping him in warm, moist breath. He dangled from her jaws as she lifted him, setting him down on something that was not stone, with others that were like him. One was largish and blue, while the other was smaller than him, with pebbly grey skin. Edging away from the bigger one, the little beast sat on top of Pebbled Grey and found it was actually warm, which felt nice. The Bid Dark loomed over him, her musky-sharp scent wafting over him again. Good smell. Safe smell.


"He's black - darker than me, even." The words rumbled over him, and though he didn't understand them, the voice that spoke was a good voice. It was the kind of voice he could listen to all day. "And his wings are red like his father's. This breeding was a good one." She was satisfied. He liked that. With a soft peep, he tried to balance on his haunches so he could reach for her nose with his forepaws, but his balance was still rather unsteady, and he toppled off of Pebbled Grey with a squawk of protest.


"Don't worry, little one," she crooned, lowering her big dark head to nose him gently upright again. "I'll take care of you."


Yes! There she was. He put his paws on her nose and licked the side of her large, toothy mouth. The response was almost immediate. Her warm, moist breath smelled strongly of something good, and warm, red stuff came out of her jaws, which he ate quite happily, though his mother seemed a little peeved as she withdrew.


"Clever little blighter," she muttered. "I'll name you after your grandfather, Clyde, and I hope you have young just like you some day."


Clyde understood not a word, fully intent on devouring his first meal. If he was very lucky, this would not set a pattern for the rest of his life.

#Clyde #FictionFriday #Dragons

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