“Don’t look away, son.” Ishhel told the scrawny boy crouched in the hay. “Focus.”
Jargeth nodded in response and shifted his weight on his hunches. It was hard to concentrate in the stables, even in the furthermost stall. Outside the stall’s gate riders nosily bustled about the pens; hauling feed, hay or rigs to and fro. There were the roars of stubborn creatures spitting and snapping in protest, and the clucking of ones eager to be brushed down and talked to. The entire building was hot and damp as the acrid odor of scat burned nostrils.
But there was peep from the egg in front of him that made him forget the noise, the sweat and the stench. For the better part of the day cream colored bits and pieces of the shell had been chipped away from the inside. But now, this was the moment. A snout no bigger than Jargeth’s palm protruded out from the hole of the egg. It squeaked and clumsily pressed onward, calling for assistance.
“Can I help him?” The boy asked, unable to turn to Ishhel in fear he would miss the moment.
Ishhel watched a large chunk of shell begin to separate from the rest. “In a moment.” With a groan the father rose to his feet. “I need to leave, but I’ll be right outside the gate.”
Jargeth sucked in a breath as his hands began to tremble. Hearing the click of the gate’s latch made the moment sink in even more. A numbness of anticipation washed over him from the top of his shorn head to his caked feet. He leaned in even more, fixated on the egg.
With a desperate peep the snout pushed the large flake of shell out and the head finally emerged. It was shaped like a wedge of cheese; the eyes shut, the nostrils flaring and the spines on the top of it’s head pliable. The thin, scaled jaws parted for the first time and the hatchling drew in it’s first full lungful of air. It’s pink, glistening tongue protruded slightly out in exhaustion and it let out the the squeakiest roar Jargeth at ever heard.
“It’s- it’s ok.” He exhaled out raggedly. Scooting closer he extended a set of trembling fingers to the hatchling’s nose.
The snout sniffed his hand before nudging it.
“I’m here.” Jargeth bit back tears as he ran his fingers up the slick muzzle. Moving his thumb gingerly across the eyes ridge he could feel the lids were welded shut with sanguine afterbirth. Wiping it away, he lost his breath.
The hatchling slowly opened it’s eyes. The first and second lids timidly parting, followed by a sweep of the third. They were a deep navy, reminding Jargeth of a clear summer night in the meadows. What was most important was that they focused on his own speckled grey eyes.
Jargeth could not speak as he staring back into the animal’s gaze. Slowly as not to startle it, he slipped both hands around the base of the egg and lifted it out of the hay-lined basket it had been set in for hatching. He drew the large, half hatched egg to his lap, cradling it as he kept gazing into the face of his mount. Taking his sleeve he carefully wiped the smears of membrane off the hatching’s face, revealing ruddy brown scales underneath.
The hatchling nuzzled his wrist appreciatively before continuing to struggle it’s way out.
Jargeth put his fingers at the lip of the shell’s breaking point and began to breaking large pieces off. Quickly the rest of his new friend came into view. Spindly legs tucked under a fat, leathery body, a tail hugging the curve of the belly, and a set of wings neatly folded against the spiny back.
Freed of it’s egg, the hatchling fell into his lap and awkwardly unfurled itself. It stretched out, wriggling the toes on it’s paws and clumsily shaking out it’s tail.
Jargeth slipped off his vest and wrapped it around the hatchling, doing his best to wipe it down. He was careful around it’s thin wings, the webbing between the bones a sheer network of blood vessels that could easily be torn.
“Is he out?” His father asked from outside.
“Yes.” Jargeth answered as he attentively massaged the ribcage of his hatchling as he has seen other boys do. The newborn began breathing easier, relaxed to his touch.
“Did he imprint?” The voice beyond the gate asked in earnest.
“Yes.” Jargeth smiled, moving to other muscle groups to get the hatchling’s muscles use to the outside world. He’d be standing in a day, running alongside him in a week, and when he reached his right of passage in seven years they’d both be flying.
Ishhel slipped back into the stall to see the boy holding the hatchling. “A crimson.” He said, kneeling next to the child.
“A warrior.” Jargeth smiled toothily, rubbing the hatchling’s cheek.
The hatchling clucked in contentment and nuzzled his boy’s chest. Letting out a sigh, the navy eyes squeezed shut as it began to doze.
“Both of you in good time.” He chuckled while patting the boy’s back. “I think he needs to recover from hatching first.”
“He is tired.” Jargeth agreed. He felt the soft puff of warm air on his shirt as the bundle of scales and teeth molded against him.
“Well let’s run him back to the house.” Rising to his feet, Ishhel helped Jargeth up before opening up the stall. “Remember, he goes everywhere with you until he’s too big.”
“I’d never leave him alone.” The boy responded firmly as he walked out with the hatchling swaddled in his vest.
“Good,” Ishhel said, allowing his son to lead the way out. “because you’re brothers now.”
originally posted on Feb 8 2012
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