• THE HATCHLING
    -------------------------
    by Candace McDaniel

    Peering through the entrance of the cave, we saw that the earthy floor sloped gently down, turning a hard left into darkness. "Gonna need a torch." Adrian's voice echoed cold and dry off the walls of the cave as I reached into my pack for my torch and flint. The wind from outside made the flames gutter, so I stepped in, using my body as a wind breaker. I heard the hiss of fire behind me; the acrid smell of pitch and smoke filled my nostrils. I stepped into the low-ceiling cavern, Adrian walking close behind.
    I filled the silence by asking questions.
    "Male or female?"
    "Too early to tell," Adrian replied, crouching under a low stalactite. In spite of his straw-thin frame, he was still hampered by his awkward height in the narrow cave. "Its horns haven't grown in yet."
    "How's its breathing?"
    "Slow. Pretty ragged."
    "Anything coming out when it breathes?"
    "Nothing. Completely clean."
    "Probably male, then," I reasoned, raking a cobweb from my ponytail as I stumbled around a bend. "Most females are able to breathe fire long before the horns come in, and usually they'll breathe out a bit of smoke when they're sick." I paused a moment to think. "Unless it's an infection of the igneous glands. That could mean parasytic activity."
    "Sora, wait!"
    I stopped and looked back. Adrian stood rigid, casting his eyes around the cavern, head tilted to one side. He was listening for something. "Couldn't have moved, not in such a weak state," he muttered. He turned to survey the tunnel we'd walked through. I couldn't see past the red glow of the torch. He remained silent a moment.
    Then I heard it, too. A muffled, scratching sound in the distance.
    "Probably just a falcon-digger," I explained softly. "They live with dragons in a symbiotic relationship, similar to crocodiles and plovers." I continued walking down the cavern, Adrian following hesitantly behind. "It makes sense-- if the dragon's sick, the falcon-digger has to forage elsewhere for food. That's what makes them diggers, after all," I added with a chuckle.
    Soon, the light of the torches revealed a wide-open cavern, and curled up at the far side was the silhouette of the dragon. "Hello there," I soothed, my voice barely above a whisper. "We're here to help." I crouched, passing the torch to Adrian's empty hand, and opened my pack for supplies. Gingerly I unwrapped a small cotton cloth, confirmed that I had enough herb, and pulled out my water flask.
    "What is that?" Adrian asked.
    "Dragonweed. It's a special herb, a powerful painkiller. Called "dragonweed" because it completely numbs the senses of any creature smaller than a dragon. Also hallucogenic to humans." I poured the water over the herbs, saturating them through the cloth, then retrieved my torch and heated them. "Best given to dragons while it's steaming hot," I explained, slowly standing.
    "Won't it attack?" Adrian peered into the shadows.
    "Not while it's this sick."
    "What about its mother?"
    I gave out a sharp laugh. "You haven't been at this very long, have you?" Adrian blushed, and I continued. "Dragons are solitary creatures-- they're highly independant. The minute the egg hatches the mother feeds it its first meal, then leaves. Soon as they're able to walk, they leave their nest to make a new home."
    The scratching sounded down the corridor again, closer this time. I held the damp cloth in one hand, torch in the other.
    As I approached, I though for a moment that it was a bit large for a young dragon. Its dry, raspy breathing quickened as I stepped closer, and its head stirred, but otherwise it made no other movement. Strange, it almost looked as if it had something folded around its neck, but that must have been a trick of the light.
    Its dark serpentine body lay coiled around itself, perfectly concealing all it limbs. It was upon this observation that I froze. That was such a tight, precise coil to hide its own legs. As I flicked my gaze up again at is neck, it dawned on me exactly what Adrian and I were looking at.
    As though responding to my thoughts, the creature raised its nearly-dragon head, glared at me with cold yellow eyes, and with a hiss unfolded its spotted black and red neck frill.
    A venomous Necrohades serpant.
    Far different from its solitary cousin, it made a cornered, starving dragon appear tame by comparison.
    The scratching in the corridor sounded even louder, the echoes fuller and shorter, and I knew our escape was blocked.
    "Adrian," I said slowly, "I'm afraid we've made a mistake. A big, deadly mistake." Adrian said nothing, but his breathing quickened. "And if this little hatchling doesn't get us first-- its mother out there will."