chapter 10

Show-offs

The dragons spent the day comparing their flame-throwing abilities. With the food and fresh air, Char had regained all his strength. His fire-snorting nostrils were in fine form.

With much aplomb, he showed off in front of his newfound siblings. He zapped a katydid on a distant tree limb. He made a target out of a knothole, hitting it perfectly each time. He brought down countless flying insects with his spewing flames.

The other dragons were suitably impressed but had their own fire-breathing prowess to display.

One dragon burned through a pine branch. Another fluttered briefly over a puddle and shot flames at the water; the water sizzled and boiled.

Lily shaped the white sand into sloping piles and watched as the dragons shot fire at them. They soon turned them into glistening cones of hot glass, experimenting with other shapes and making interesting patterns with the molten glass.

Lily delighted in making the dragons silly little hats and bows, which she wove from leaves and grasses and decorated with flowers and red berries. She enjoyed just sitting and watching the dragons for hours.

She saw one of them snap at a bee. “I think I’m going to name you . . . Bee!” she laughed. “And you”—she glanced at another of the babies rolling in the warm sand—“you’re Roller!”

She glanced around for the third dragon, finally spotting him resting in the shade of some ferns. “And you’re Shadow!”

Lily smiled as she watched the baby dragons head off into the undergrowth, and then return after a bit, holding some sort of prize in their mouths. Many of these prizes were unknown to Lily: strange, wiggling centipedes and hard-shelled crustaceans and horned insects. Lily knew they were supposed to be gifts, and special treats, but they looked foreign and unappetizing.

In a sudden inspiration, Lily thought of getting Char to roast the treats. She placed them on a shell, and Char or one of the other dragons would quick-fire the crickets or katydids or one of the other island creatures. The flames roasted them, making them much more edible.

Lily dragged a deep clamshell into the clearing and filled it with a variety of ripe berries and water. She coaxed Char to flame the shell and boil the water repeatedly; after stirring and mashing the berries, she made a sort of jam. Char heated up another shell filled with grass seeds, toasting them. Lily sprinkled the toasted seeds over the jam. “Not as good as the berry pies and tarts back home, but not bad!” she said, sampling her experiment.

And, after roasting and dipped into the berry jam, the mysterious and odd centipedes or mole crabs made a tasty snack.

But Basil was less interested in the dragon hijinks. “Maybe it’s best to be far away from the baby dragons, just in case the parents finally show up,” he said bluntly, and then slipped off into the brambles. Later, he returned, pulling some pine needles over his body as camouflage, and napped in the shade most of the day.

Twig decided to explore the island a bit. He climbed to the top of several dunes, cautiously watching for predators. From each viewpoint he saw only an expanse of shrubby trees, tangled vines, and undergrowth, and more dunes in every direction. The far-off roar of the surf sifted through the salty air.

He discovered broad stretches of sandy soil, flat and sunbaked. Thousands of seabirds dotted the terrain and filled the sky above, chattering and calling. Twig saw fluffy baby birds, squatting on the sand among broken bits of shell, and nearly hidden with their camouflage coloration.

Within the shade of the shrubby pines and bayberry bushes, the air was hot and still, but filled with the incessant sound of chirping and clicking insects. The heat of the day didn’t seem to deter them.

He heard a loud, raucous croaking sound and looked up through the branches of a scrubby pine. A monstrously large bird, with long legs dangling down and a long, sharp beak, was flapping slowly overhead. Twig cowered, motionless, until it flew past.

He scampered back to the clearing. Lily was playing with Char and the other dragons. Her cooking experiments were scattered around the site, and the dragons were adorned with various woven hats and bows. He laughed.

Then he had a sudden pang of sadness that he’d have to give up Char someday and they’d have to part. Char had become like family to him. He wished somehow they could stay together.

As the shadows of the afternoon got longer and longer and evening fell, the trio gathered the dragon babies around them protectively.

Using Char’s flame, Twig started a little campfire of dry pinecones and leaves. They sat around, eating from their cache of food, staring at the flames, lost in thought.

Home seemed far away. None of them had any idea of how to return there.

Basil fluffed up his bed of dried grasses and lay there, thinking of home and how to get back.

The baby dragons piled one upon the other, with their heads and necks tucked under one another’s wings. Soon they started to snore, and puffs of smoke drifted up into the pine boughs above. Every now and then one of them would snort and their wings would quiver, and then they would settle down again.

Lily tiptoed over and slid in among them, her arm around Char’s neck, and closed her eyes.

Twig looked at Char and smiled. It had been a long time since he’d seen the dragon look so healthy or contented. That alone was worth the arduous trip down the river, the treacherous storm and shipwreck, and the unknown of their present situation.

Crickets called to one another, scattered about the tangle of bushes and vines. Twig recognized the distant song of a mockingbird.

He looked up to see a few stars, in between the branches of the bayberry bushes. The same stars were watching over the Hill. He suddenly had a terrible yearning to be back home, in his own bed.