Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) by James Stevens Read Free Book Online

him.
Irritated, Ammon snapped. “What are you doing?”
Again, Fulgid came back and gripped the shaft in his teeth and pulled Ammon off balance until he hopped a few steps.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming!” Ammon winced. “I hope you don’t expect me to help you catch mice.”
Putting as much of the weight on the staff as he could, Ammon followed after the dragon. Each time he got close, the dragon moved forward until he was almost out of sight. Again and again, until finally Ammon found himself standing in front of the large rock formation he had seen in the distance. Fulgid slipped inside the opening between the rocks then reappeared a minute later, waiting for him to follow. Ammon ducked his head and limped in.
Feeling around, Ammon found the space inside was mostly clear of cobwebs and he discovered he could stand up straight holding onto the shaft. Dropping slowly to the ground, he felt around and found a pile of twigs and small branches that lined the edges, but the center was layered in sand and leaves. It was likely used by some animal as a den once, but not for some time. He cleared a place in the center and used the twigs for kindling to start a small fire as far from the entrance as possible. Searching the cave interior, he found enough larger branches to keep the fire going for awhile, so he unlaced his boot with a grimace and set about getting it off his foot. As soon as he pulled the boot free, a stab of pain raced up his leg. After a few minutes he sat, panting and sweating with the effort not to scream. In the firelight he could see the swollen ankle but still couldn't tell if it was broken; at the very least it was sprained badly and any hope of travel in the morning was dashed. Frustrated, he threw his boot against the stone and it nearly bounced back into the fire.
“Now what am I gonna do?”
Carefully stretching his leg out onto the soft sand he leaned back. “Fulgid, I think we’re…” Ammon looked around the cave as he suddenly realized he was alone. “Fulgid? Awww…Dragon spit!”
The occasional pop of the small fire was all that broke the stillness of the night, and its tiny flames did little to warm Ammon’s bones. He’d grown accustomed to the constant heat of the furnaces and his leather shirt and breeches did little to ward off the night chill. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and laid the sword beside him within easy reach. Cold and miserable, he sat shivering until the growling of his stomach forced him to think more about food than his throbbing ankle. Pushing one of the cattail roots onto the tip of his knife, he slowly roasted it above the flames. When he thought it sufficiently cooked, he blew on the steaming root before cutting it into small pieces. As he lifted one to his lips, the smell of damp earth filled his nostrils and he hesitantly bit into it. The fibrous wad refused to yield to his teeth, and after trying unsuccessfully to chew it for several minutes he finally spit it into the fire. Listening to it hiss, he buried his head into his hands and groaned as the low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance.
As midnight approached the storm grew closer. Brilliant flashes of light burst across the night sky and the wind swirled leaves and dust into the cave, threatening to extinguish the tiny flames. Stoking the embers, Ammon built up the fire then crawled to the opening and placed his tin pot outside to catch the large fat droplets that were beginning to fall. The rain was coming down in heavy sheets when Fulgid returned as suddenly as he’d left. Relieved, Ammon was about to scold him for wandering off when the dragon dropped something from his mouth beside the fire. Three fish glistened wetly in the firelight. Ammon stared back at the little dragon in amazement.
“You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?”
With a flick of his tail, Fulgid curled up close to the fire, and soon steam began to rise off his scales.
Ammon placed the pot over the fire then