chapter 10

Char

The next morning, Twig stared in disbelief.

The tower room was a mess.

The dragon had been alone and enclosed in the small space for too long. There were claw marks nearly everywhere, but especially at the door, where he had tried to dig or find his way out. Twig’s work materials were scattered all over and had been trampled. But worst of all, his project was destroyed.

Twig picked up the pieces. He would have to start all over on the sundial. A sudden anger filled him head to toe, and he glared at the dragon. The dragon sensed Twig’s mood and retreated to a corner, hunched and confused.

“You ruined it!” Twig squeaked, his anger swelling. “All that work for nothing! Why did you have to follow me home? Why did I find your egg?” With his paws clenched, he surveyed the broken mess, then curled on the floor, his head spinning.

The dragon, still cowering in the corner, made a coughing, raspy, deep-throated noise, a cough that caused its body to spasm. Twig sat up.

“You okay, boy?” he asked, suddenly feeling guilty about his angry outburst. He padded over to the corner. The dragon looked tired; it tucked its head beneath one wing. Twig reached out and stroked the dragon’s smooth scales, scratching gently under its chin, speaking softly. “It’s all right,” he said. What had been rage was replaced with compassion. Ruining the sundial had been unintentional.

The dragon quivered at first, then relaxed. After a while, it stretched out its neck and closed its eyes.

Twig studied the mess that spread across the room. “Tomorrow I’ll try to fix this,” he said quietly.

The next morning, Twig set about trying to reassemble the sundial. His anger had gone, but he had lots of catching up to do if he was ever to make Master Metal Crafter. Lily stopped by, anxious to see the baby dragon, and saw Twig’s project still strewn about the room.

Her tail wiggled anxiously. “What happened here?” she asked. “Although I can guess. Something tells me someone was a bad baby dragon. Oh, Twig . . . is it ruined?”

“Yes, ruined,” Twig replied. “And you’re correct . . . bad baby dragon is right.”

“Professor Burdock is going to really going to be hard on you for this,” Lily said soberly. She picked up one of the pieces. “Anything you can fix?”

Twig looked skeptical, ears drooped.

Lily went over to the dragon; it perked up and fluttered its wings when she approached. She couldn’t help feeling bad for it, and stroked it gently.

“Are you all finished being a bad baby dragon?” she cooed.

“Good point,” Twig said. “I know I won’t be leaving any more of my projects here for him to mess up.”

Lily kept scratching his throat. The dragon stretched out his neck, and his eyes rolled back in rapture.

“Hey, he really likes this,” Lily whispered. “He’s closed his eyes! He’s so cute!”

Suddenly the dragon spasmed a bit and put his head low to the floor.

“He looks . . . weird,” Twig said.

A moment later the dragon belched, and a short burst of flame shot from his nostrils.

“Oh!” shrieked Lily, bouncing back.

“Wow! Did you see that?” Twig cried out.

“All I did was stroke his chin a little. Then . . . kaboom!” Lily gasped.

They both stared at the dragon, who sat looking a little dazed. Thin curls of green-gray smoke curled from each nostril. The dragon snorted a bit, then blinked.

Twig nudged Lily. “Do it again,” he urged.

“Do what again?”

“Rub his chin. Make him breathe flames again.”

Lily looked at Twig and wiggled her whiskers. “You sure?”

“Yes! Go ahead! Or I’ll do it. . . .”

Lily pushed at Twig. “I’ll do it!” Again, she gently rubbed and scratched the dragon’s throat and neck. “There, there,” she murmured. The dragon stretched his neck out, this time with his eyes open, as though he wanted to see the fire again himself. After a minute, Lily got tired. “I don’t think he’s going to do it,” she said. “Maybe he needs fuel?”

“Let me try,” Twig suggested.

Lily scooted aside, and Twig began the scratch routine. This time the dragon immediately bent low; then, with a loud combination of snort, sneeze, and burp, shot another stream of fire out of his nose, much larger than the first. The flame shot across the room and scorched one wall. In a blinding flash, it was over.

Twig and Lily jumped back, falling backward and landing together in a heap. They looked at each other, amazed, and then started laughing.

“Wow!” Twig chittered.

“The flame!” Lily squealed. “He’s a walking blowtorch!”

Twig pointed at a burned place in the wall, which smoked and popped. “Look at the wall . . . it’s charred! He nearly burned the place down!” They looked at each other and started laughing again.

Lily sat upright. “That’s it,” she declared. “His name is Char! It can be short for Charcoal.”

The dragon looked very pleased with himself. Again, his nostrils emitted curls of smoke, large curls this time, green-gray puffs that rose to the ceiling. His wings fluttered.

“Well, Char,” Twig said. “You’re quite a dragon.”

Char looked at them, wings vibrating.