Dragon Sitting

By H. J. 

“Come on!” Kytt grunted as she tugged on the massive creature’s leash. “Just think, one day. Just one day, then we’ll get it.”

The dragon, Fishes, refused to budge. Sighing, Kytt shoved her glasses back and looked over her shoulder at the unblinking orange eyes.

“Money,” she coaxed, rubbed her blistered, rope-burned fingers. “Don’t you dragons adore that stuff? Maybe we can reach an agreement. You take half, I take half? Shoot, it isn’t even for me!”

The bulletin’s advertisement had detailed a well-paying job to anyone who could tend a favorite pet for the day. The reward: thirty-five gold coins and a chest.

“Thirty-five gold coins…” Kytt licked her lips. Oh, the meals she could buy!

Of course, they weren’t for her, but it felt good to dream.

He yanked his leash, and Kytt yelped as the rope burned her palms. Again.

“What was that for?” she shouted.

Fishes stubbornly sat down. He was the size of a small horse, large enough to be formidable, but small enough to be underestimated. Kytt doubted she’d be able to move him.

“It’s for the kids, for the kids.” She closed her eyes and thought hard about the orphanage she planned to help. “They’ll be thrilled with more food. And I can pick up toys with the change.”

Already, Kytt could see their lit-up faces and adoring smiles.

Fishes growled at her, giving the rope another tug. This time, Kytt was prepared. She recoiled against the rope and managed to unbalance him. While he searched for footing, Kytt dragged him towards his den.

Deeply beloved by his owner, Fishes was a pudgy, spoiled dragon. He reminded Kytt of a beach ball with a stumpy tail and miniscule wings. The old lady pampered him to no end, and it showed.

Kytt shook her head, looking up at the sky. “Why did it have to be a dragon? Why?”

Huge, unmanageable, not to mention stinky. Kytt rolled her eyes and dragged Fishes into his rock-hewn den. Inside, he raced for his bed.

Kytt used the short respite to review her short list. The owner had explained each step, but Kytt had been more interested in casing the joint. While the reward was hefty, she figured that her employer’s eccentric knick-knacks would fetch a fair price on the market.

Feeding – are we talkin’ live meat? I’ve never heard of a kibble-eating dragon…  Combing – He doesn’t have fur! What does she mean by that? Exercise – Boy, does he need it…

And lastly, my reward.

Four steps.

How hard could it be?

The first problem presented itself as Kytt surveyed the sweeping estate. With immaculate green lawns and not a single tree within sight of the stone walls, there was no place for prey. And without prey, Kytt had to assume that the stream was the place for Fishes’ food. It made sense, considering his name.

“Guess there’s no other choice.”

Kytt stalked back to Fishes’ den.

“Chances are,” she continued, “if I don’t feed him, he’ll just eat me instead. Hey, Fishes! It’s time to eat!”

Kytt glanced around the luxurious cave. The smooth stone ceiling was supported by flagstone walls, and torches flickered from golden braziers. In the corner, a pair of gloves sat on a barrel. This’ll be perfect, she thought, slipping them on. She deviously rubbed her cushioned hands together. “Now I can drag you out if you don’t behave, Fishes. Are you hungry?”

Fishes twitched his short tail, then heaved his bulk up.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Come on. Faster we start, faster we’re done.”

After he’d floundered in the water and half-drowned himself, Kytt shoved Fishes away. Obviously, he’d never caught a fish in his life.

“Probably had servants spoon-feed caviar to him,” Kytt mumbled, rolling up her sleeves and adjusting her glasses. She thrust her fingers into the frigid water.

“Think of the kids,” she told herself. “Poor, hungry, little blighters.”

Fishes lounged in the afternoon sun as Kytt suffered to catch food for him. At last, a fish swam too close. Darting out, Kytt clamped her fingers around the fish and pulled it out of the water. Her gloves kept it in place as an idea struck her.

“Listen, Fishface. Because I did all of the work to catch it, you have to work to keep it.” Kytt grinned as she broke into a run. “Catch me if you can!”

Fishes chased her around the estate until Kytt’s legs threatened to buckle. “Here you go,” she panted. “You deserve it.”

Kytt looked the other way while he gobbled up the fish, feeling nauseated.

Food. Check.

Exercise. Check.

That left…

Combing? Surveying Fishes, Kytt shook her head. Dragons had scales. Scales didn’t need brushing. That was final.

The sun was beginning to set by the time Fishes’ owner returned. The old lady tramped up the road. Kytt hurried to meet her.

“What a lovely market we have here! I haven’t gotten away in years, but I already miss my Fishes! Where is the love?”

Fishes raced up to Kytt’s employer and tackled her to the ground.

How can she love that overweight, impish beast? Kytt wondered.

“Now, now Fishes, mummy loves you,” the woman crooned. She glanced at Kytt with a smile. “Here’s your money, dear. And the chest. Go on, you’ve earned it, although my baby didn’t get combed. No matter, Fishes is beautiful as he is, aren’t you sweetie?” The old woman turned her back on Kytt and scratched Fishes’ neck and underneath his jaw.

Kytt saluted and ran joyously down the drive. “I’m never watching a dragon again!”

She had decided to keep whatever was inside the box as a reward for dealing with the ornery dragon. And whatever valuables she could snag on her way out.

What did the mysterious chest hold? Gold? Jewels? She opened it.

Inside was a heavy, scaly, oval object. It shook when her fingers touched it. It rattled. It mewled.

And then, the dragon egg cracked.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

H. J. loves writing! Her favorite genres are Fantasy and Dystopian, although she sometimes dabbles in contemporary tales. Short stories are a struggle because of her love of epic sagas, but Hannah is up for a challenge! Besides writing, she spends her free time crocheting or knitting.