The Dragon Keeper
Sintara could smell the fear on them. She noted in passing that the humans from the boats were mostly youngsters. Their voices were raised to one another, piping questions and squeaking warnings. Then the other hunters emerged from the path, pushing their barrows. Each wooden barrow was heaped high with meat and fish, a generous pile surpassing what they usually held. Sintara chose the third barrow as hers and pushed Ranculos aside to claim it. He roared, but swiftly chose the fourth barrow instead. As they always did, the barrow pushers quickly left the area to stand well back in the trees. They’d reclaim their barrows and trundle them away when every dragon had finished eating.
Sintara sank her muzzle into the heaped carrion. The meat was still, the blood dried and the muscles stiffened. The deer in it had probably been killed yesterday or even the day before. The smell of the offal was rank, but she didn’t care. She seized and gulped, seized and gulped, eating as swiftly as she could. Even though there was a barrow for each dragon, it wasn’t uncommon to have to fight for the last pieces of her carrion if some other dragon had already finished his share.
She overturned her barrow in her haste, spilling the final pieces of meat. The last piece of river carp was covered in dust: it stuck in her throat and she had to shake her head to get it down. It still stuck. Ignoring the others, she went to the drinking hole. The water that seeped in from the sides and filled it was less acidic than that in the river itself. She sank her muzzle into it and drew up a long draft. She lifted her head skyward, pointed her nose up, and swallowed. The fish was still caught in her throat. Another long drink and it finally slid down. She belched in relief. She was startled when someone asked her, “Are you all right now? You looked as if you were choking.”
The girl didn’t answer the question. Instead, she pointed toward the forest and said, “The day you hatched, I was there. Up in that tree. Watching.”
“I didn’t ‘hatch’ here. I emerged from my case. Are you too ignorant of dragon ways to know the difference?”
“A careless use of words,” Sintara corrected her.
“I’m sorry,” the girl apologized.
Most of the other dragon keepers still huddled by the boats, watching them. Greft had announced his claim as soon as the boat touched shore. “The big black one is mine. Everyone stay back and give me a chance to talk to him before you approach the others.”
Perhaps some of the others were swayed by Greft’s assumption of leadership. Thymara wasn’t. She’d already seen the dragon she wanted to care for. The female was a gleaming blue with glittering silver markings on her dwarfed wings. Consecutive scaled frills draped her neck like ruffles on a rich woman’s dress. She was one of the better-formed dragons, despite her diminutive wings. A survivor, Thymara had judged her, and she had been so bold as to approach the dragon immediately. Now she wondered if she’d made a poor choice. The blue dragon didn’t seem especially friendly, and she was large. If the way she’d devoured the barrow of meat was any indication, keeping up with her appetite was going to be a challenge. No, an impossibility, she realized with dawning dismay. What she had seen as feasible back at Trehaug was now revealed to her as a hopeless task. If she was going to be any dragon’s sole feeder, that dragon was going to be hungry a good part of the time.