Black Scales IV

At any moment, there could be another whoosh, telling her that the dragon had checked on the Egg, and eaten the Girl, and now Orla had just better watch out. A shadow across the sky, a roar, searing flames at her back.

She'd never run so fast in her life, but it still didn't feel fast enough. Maybe there was no fast enough, not when the creature chasing after you has enormous great wings.

Orla might have cried, might have gibbered in sheer terror, except that those things would have cost precious energy, and there was none to spare. Every ounce, of it, every molecule of her being, every thought, every last wisp of every breath - it was all being put to one use.

Run.

She slowed when she reached the first houses on the outer edge of the village. The poorest people lived here, the first to burn if the dragon should point its snout this way. One of the bigger boys slouched in a doorway, squinting at her. Jenson was tall for his age, and broad and muscly with it. He had a thick face with a squashed-looking nose that made him look piggish.

"Your da is looking for you!" he called after her, but she barely slowed. She could have done, now. Fright had loosed its grip on her, enough for her to catch her breath and realise I'm not dead, it didn't toast me and eat me after all.

It felt like a different world here: homes and people and mud and smells. Compared to the ethereal shoreline with its mist, and fangs, and dragon-stink, it was quite literally like night and day. Here, you could almost believe that other world didn't exist, not really.

So Orla slowed, but only a little, because children who are big and stupid and mean can also be clever in very specific ways. What if Jenson could tell she had something? A scale (a really big one, it felt like) or some Shell, or a tooth? He didn't even need to know, he might just suspect. She's running, and she has a death-grip on something so tight her hand is bleeding...

And then there was this: some kids (like Jenson) could see you running and knock you flat on principal. Then what?

There wasn't time for the news to reach her da before she did. That she was alive after all, not dead or missing by the lake, and she was headed for home. She was moving too quick for that. That meant, when she got there, he was still roaring around the tiny kitchen like a bear with a sore head, smashing what few possessions they had left.

He turned when she came in, and stood stock still for a few second, staring at her. The little table was overturned, and its wobbly leg was broken. Smashed crockery was scattered across the floor and there was more than one fist-sized dent in the wall.

Da staggered to his knees and pulled her into a bone-cracking hug. Orla closed her eyes, held her breath so she couldn't smell the cloud of drink clinging to him, and almost let herself imagine Ma, and Elsie, and Peter were in the house.

Da pulled back, gripping her upper arms tight enough to leave thick, purple bruises, and scowled at her.

"You never do that to me again, you hear?"

Orla nodded, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

He hugged her again, even tighter ow, it hurts! and a couple of rasping sobs escaped him.

"If you ever left me, I'd just go and-"

Orla squirmed out of his grip and held out her hand. Da frowned at the blood.

She'd locked her fingers so tight around the gift, that Da had to prise them open. Both stared at what lay in her palm, in a puddle of red.

It looked like a scale, almost, but bigger, and not quite the right shape. One edge was serrated. Da goggled at it.

"Baby," he said, his voice hoarse from all the shouting he'd been doing, "Where did you get this? How did you get it?"

I went into the cave, Da. The dragon wasn't there. I went in, and saw the Egg, and there was a strange, wild girl, and...

It sounded too fantastical. Orla almost didn't believe it herself.

"It's a spine, Baby. From a crest, I think, or a tail, maybe. How did you get it?"

Worse... what if he did believe her? He might ask about the Egg, find out if the rumours were true. Orla remembered the Girl, those eyes flashing protectively, and that stick swinging down... She didn't care what the Egg was worth, only that there was something (somebody) inside it.

Even if Orla lied, if Da found out - if anyone found out - that the dragon had been absent from the Lair, someone would go to see if the Egg was there.

No, it was worse. They'd send children in to find out.

Even if they believed her that there was no Egg, children would be sent inside that cave to find more treasures like this one.

"From a girl," Orla said. "I got it from a girl. And I hid. So the bigger kids wouldn't find me."

It was true. Sort of.

Da raised his eyebrows. His daughter, timid to the point of mousey, had never been able hold on to her own haul, never mind flatten someone else and take theirs. It never occurred to him that it might have been given.

Orla swayed on the spot, and Da caught her before she hit the ground. He sat her down, found some clean rags, and washed the cuts on her hand. Black tendrils spidered out from it.

"It'll be alright," he said, but he sounded doubtful. "I'll bandage it up for now, and we'll be able to get you a doktor."

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