The Healer and the Hatchling

By Morgan J. Manns

It’s too quiet without Henry.

Belinda blinks back tears as her nimble fingers work in steady circles, her pestle grinding brittle leaves into fine dust. They were supposed to have a lifetime together—not three short years. Not before she had the chance to find her first grey hair.

But some illnesses, it turns out, were beyond even Belinda’s skill to heal.

The evening air creeps into her joints, but she keeps working, jaw tight. There’s no time to tend the hearth—she needs to focus, or grief will devour her whole. On the anniversary of her husband’s death, she must do something. Anything. She muffles a sob, turning the pestle faster. Maybe—

A flicker of movement.

Halting her pestle, she turns. A pair of narrow black eyes framed in golden scales meets hers. The young dragon perched upon her shoulder stretches his leathery wings and settles deeper into her shawl.

“Thank you, Vinya,” she sighs, pressing her forehead against his. “I needed the reminder that I was not alone.”

She returns to her pestle, exhaling slowly.

What will it be like when Vinya’s grown? When he flies off to find his place in the world? To battle against Darkness. Will he let her ride on his back, just once, to see the world as the birds do?

Thinking of his future is more comforting than thinking of her own.

The evening light slants through the windows as the last leaves dissolve into dust. She fills a small glass vial and holds it up to the lantern light. A sigh escapes her. Only half a jar.

There won’t be any new leaves until spring. If more farmers come with cases of Blackfoot in their sheep, she’ll have to ration carefully. Especially because the villagers seem to have other ideas for the paste.

She almost laughs. A wife had smeared the mixture on her husband’s bald head, hoping to regrow his hair. Surprisingly, it worked. Now, half the men in the village beg for the miracle cure. Belinda’s never had so many visitors.

There are more important things than going bald. Henry was as hairless as a river stone, and she loved him just the same.

Her eyes glisten anew, and Vinya nudges her with a soft whine.

“Stop that,” she says, brushing away the tears. “I’m fine.”

But she isn’t.

Tucking the vial away, she turns to the fireplace. The embers pulse deep red. She adds a fresh log and watches the bark ignite into bright flames.

“One day you’ll breathe fire, Vinya,” Belinda says, collapsing into her favorite chair. “Then you can tend the hearth.” The dragon takes the opportunity to curl into her lap like a cat.

Belinda marvels at his reflective scales. They—

A knock sounds at the door.

Her breath catches. With trembling fingers, she quickly places Vinya onto the floor. “Probably someone looking for miracle paste,” she whispers. “Now, go and hide.”

Vinya scurries into the shadows of the bedroom.

Belinda takes a steadying breath and opens her front door.

A balding man stands just outside, his travel-worn cloak dusted with dirt, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Got time to help a friend?” he says.

Belinda offers a weary smile. “Anything for you, Joe.”

***

Joe steps into the cottage, his horseshoe of dark hair tucked neatly behind his ears. Belinda considers offering him some Blackfoot paste as a joke but thinks better of it.

He peers over her shoulder. “He’s grown.”

Belinda glances behind just as Vinya bounds onto her shoulder. Perhaps he has, though it’s hard to notice since he’s constantly with her.

“What brings you here?” she asks, offering Joe a chair. It’s late and all she wants is to be alone.

When Joe brushes away her offer, curiosity sparks within her.

Two years ago, when she first met him, he was greener than grass—literally. Traveling through the area, he developed a lichen infection. It grew on him like a second skin, oozing and terrible. She threw together a remedy that made it peel away like snakeskin.

Everyone said her cures were like magic.

He repaid her when he showed up three months ago with a baby dragon, of all things. Joe was a man full of surprises.

“The Darkness grows, Belinda,” he says, breaking her from her thoughts.

Goosebumps flash across her skin. “I know,” she says, and a recent memory resurfaces. “Just last month, a sheep wandered west. It returned unharmed. But…” She wraps her arms tightly around herself. “It was changed.”

Its wool, once white, had dulled to a sickly gray. And the look in its eyes—haunted and hollow—sent shivers down her spine.

“The villagers whisper that the Darkness marked it,” she adds, throat dry.

Joe nods, seemingly unsurprised. “That’s why we need the dragon earlier than predicted.”

She shoots him an angry glare. “N-No. Not yet. Besides, you said he could stay until he grows. You said—”

He gently raises a hand. “You’ve been a safe place for him, tucked away in the hills. But Vinya is meant for something more. We need to start training him—against the Darkness… Now.”

Belinda swallows. Not today. Of all days, not today.

“There’s more,” Joe continues.

She wants to strike him.

“The group I’m with—we need a healer.”

Belinda blinks. Leave the village? She’d always belonged here.

But then the small dragon shifts against her neck and she pauses. Of course, Vinya would be there, too…

Joe begins outlining the plan as if she’s already agreed, but her mind drifts. Can she really leave this place?

Without Henry, the cottage no longer feels like home. It feels like a prison—a place heavy with old memories.

Belinda runs a finger along the dragon’s golden neck as Joe mentions something about mountains. “What do you think, Vinya?” She whispers. “Shall we try something new, together?”

The dragon straightens and lets out an affirmative growl.

And Belinda wonders if adventure will help heal her brittle heart.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Morgan J. Manns is a speculative fiction writer who firmly believes that the world needs more stories filled with magic and wonder. Captivated by the realm of intricate world-building since composing her first fantasy tale at the age of ten, she now ventures beneath the endless Canadian prairie sky with her supportive husband and two hobbit children, all while eagerly contemplating her next literary creation. While her current occupation is that of an elementary school teacher, her dream job will always be dragon rider, soaring through the skies of her imaginings.

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