The Egg by Marian Crofts
Dragons & Wyverns Short Story Challenge
9th place
The Egg
Wendy Thimblewart doesn't believe in magical nonsense — not even when a dragon egg falls into her care. But when she finds herself in over her head, she'll need to learn to accept help from a little girl who loves dragons almost as much as she loves reading about them.
Wendy Thimblewart did not have too many pets, thank you very much, nor did she appreciate the implication that she did. The chickens and goats had come with the estate, and those were more livestock than pets, so those hardly counted. The ducks and turtles had moved into the pond all on their own, and the deer were just springtime visitors. The crows were her friends, and of course also did not count. The stray dogs and cats arrived all on their own, and it would be cruel not to feed and house them, so really, all in all, Wendy couldn’t be blamed for any of the animals.
Though, there was perhaps one she could be blamed for.
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If one were to leave through the back porch of the cottage, meander past the chicken coop, take a right at the vegetable garden and enter the forest where the patch of spruce trees was thickest, one might stumble over a handle poking through the forest floor. And on one unlucky April morning, Wendy did just that. Her toe caught the metal protrusion at just the right angle to send her face-first into the mud. Cursing, she kicked the offending object, then had reasons to curse again.
Half-buried in the hillside, yet somehow perfectly camouflaged until you looked right at it, was a door. Composed of a swirl of stone and metal, with wavelike patterns as if forged from molten lava, it had no features other than a twisted handle and a large keyhole.
She pulled on the handle, breath catching with expectation, and—nothing. It wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard she tried. Defeated, but no less curious, she hurried home to tend to her animals.
Puddles the goat didn’t appreciate his dinner being late, nor did he appreciate being ignored. One well-aimed headbutt landed Wendy on the ground for the second time that day. While she lay on the floor of the barn contemplating her life’s choices (and the possibility of goat
stew for dinner), she noticed light glinting off something in the rafters. She immediately retrieved it to find an old-fashioned brass key with a rippling, wavelike pattern. Her heart began to pound.
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The key fit perfectly. Ancient hinges squeaked and groaned, revealing a cramped space filled with dust, cobwebs, and one dark, oblong object the height of her knee. She pulled it out. It was cool against her fingertips, with a texture like alligator skin, and it shimmered azure in the moonlight.
An egg.
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Wendy stared at the egg, fingers steepled under her chin. The egg stared back at her, cramped within the makeshift incubator, the warm glow of the heat lamp reflecting off the egg’s scaly exterior.
“Just what are you?” she murmured. Furtive research had revealed nothing of its origins. A sharp rap on the front door broke her reverie. “Ms. Thimblewart? Are you home? I want to play with the animals!”
“Luanne,” Wendy groaned. She crossed the room to the entryway and cracked open the heavy wooden door revealing the little girl, no older than ten, standing outside. “I’m busy, go home,” Wendy snapped.
Eager brown eyes stared up at her. “Please Ms. Thimblewart! I brought worms for the chickens.” To demonstrate her point, Luanne shoved a dirty fistful of nightcrawlers in Wendy’s direction.
Wendy cringed back a step. “Yes, lovely. Well there simply isn’t time today, and in fact I’m busy the rest of the week, so run along and don’t come back.”
Luanne’s eyes went wide, and for a second Wendy felt a pang of guilt for being too harsh with the child, until she realized Luanne was looking behind her. “What is that?” Wendy knew instantly what Luanne meant. Luanne, never one to waste an opportunity, pushed into the room. Wendy grabbed for the girl, but the deft little thing ducked under Wendy’s arm and scampered to the incubator, the worms forgotten on the floor in her excitement. Aghast, Wendy exclaimed “child, you must pick those up immediately—” Luanne spun around, hands on her hips. “Ms. Thimblewart, I’m disappointed in you.” Wendy, not accustomed to being scolded by anyone, but most certainly not by children, was stunned silent. “You should have called an expert immediately. A rare creature such as this is no laughing matter.”
Dread pooled in Wendy’s stomach. She knew it. She knew she should have called a wildlife rescue, but she arrogantly thought she could handle it, and now a child of all things was chastising her. She hung her head in shame. “You’re right, I should have.”
Luanne nodded sagely. “And that’s why it’s a good thing I came today. No one is a bigger expert in Dragonology than I am.”
Wendy felt her irritation crash back into her in a righteous wave. “Dragons? I’m trying to keep this egg alive and you come in here with talk of dragons?” She scoffed. “I don’t have time for this. Get your worms out of my house and go home!”
Luanne’s big eyes filled with tears. “They’re for the chickens!” and she ran sobbing from the house.
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The next day, Wendy heard a firm knock at the door. She had been expecting—and dreading—this. Sure as salt, Luanne’s mother would have words with Wendy about sending her daughter home in tears. Wendy strongly considered pretending she wasn’t home, but at the
second knock she mustered up the courage to face her fears. To her surprise, it wasn’t Luanne’s mother at the door, but Luanne herself, fresh-faced and struggling under the weight of a large bag of books.
“I brought these for you, Ms. Thimblewart!” Just then, the tote’s seams lost their battle with gravity and split down the middle, books tumbling all across the stoop. “I’m sorry,” sniffled Luanne. “I’m always making a mess of things, aren’t I?”
“Never you mind that,” said Wendy. “I’ll get you a new bag, so let’s just bring these inside, shall we?”
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“These books are…quite something,” Wendy ventured, attempting not to summon another storm of tears.
Luanne nodded primly. “I know you don’t believe in dragons, but the evidence is right here in the books, you can see for yourself. Look here, in 100 Dragon Breeds, it clearly specifies egg types, and yours looks exactly like a Southern Spikebutt.”
Wendy looked dubiously at the array of children’s novels and picture books sprawled across her kitchen table. “And your source is children’s fantasy?”
Luanne levelled a cool look at Wendy. “Ms. Thimblewart, this is serious. I’ve been collecting rare texts on dragons my whole life, so I know what I’m talking about. My mom says I have the biggest collection in the world!” Her arms spread wide to demonstrate. “So, when are we hatching the egg?”
Wendy furrowed her brow. “The egg will hatch when it’s good and ready, same as all eggs.”
Luanne shook her head. “No, that won’t do. Everyone knows dragons need fire to hatch.” Wendy snorted. “Luanne, I’ve humored you so far about this dragon nonsense, but I
won’t let you boil the poor egg.”
Luanne slammed her hands on the table. “But it won’t hatch otherwise! The texts say so!” “I said no, and that’s final. Now run along home, I need to care for the animals before dinner. You can see yourself out.” And with that, Wendy donned her mucking boots and left through the back door.
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Wendy had just finished shepherding the final chicken back into the coop when she smelled the smoke. She jerked her head up in alarm, and saw a tall, gray plume rising from her chimney. She ran.
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She was too late.
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Wendy yelled. Luanne cried. The egg simmered away in the hearth.
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Wendy’s hands throbbed. She had tried to pull the egg out with her bare hands, before the scalding heat had forced her to retreat for oven mitts. The tears on her cheeks had dried to salty streaks, but fresh tracks ran anew when she thought about what she had screamed to make Luanne flee in tears.
“Leave and never come back. I can’t stand you.”
When had she become so cruel? She should never have blamed the child, it was her own fault for not being more careful. In fact, she never should have tried to care for the egg in the first place. She should have surrendered the egg right away, and it was her own hubris that did her in. She put her face in her aching hands.
The egg cracked.
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A scaly face appeared from within the egg, bright red, and covered in ridges and scales. It squawked pitifully, eyes squeezed shut. Wendy loved it from the start. Stubby legs with long talons stretching for the very first time, tiny wings testing their first flaps. She picked it up and wrapped it in a soft towel. It purred and cuddled against her.
A baby dragon, she marvelled. Bless her heart, Luanne had been right. A pang of guilt shot through her heart.
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Wendy wanted to pull out her hair. The little dragon (Gregory, she decided) refused everything she offered him. Goat milk, scrambled eggs, cat food, mashed peas, even bugs! She hadn’t slept, and neither had Gregory. He let out a long, pitiful “weeeeck.”
“I don’t know what you want!” she sobbed, exasperated. Although, she thought, I know someone who does. “Gregory, stay right there and don’t move!” Gregory, fully swaddled, complied.
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Wendy knocked on the big yellow door.
“Go away,” came a small voice in response.
“Luanne? Is that you?” Wendy’s throat closed. She swallowed. “I’m sorry for everything that I said. I should never have yelled at you. You deserve better. You’re a smart kid. Also, you were right, completely correct!” Wendy laughed. “And it’s me who’s the fool. And there’s a baby dragon who needs you, the dragon expert! And…I hope we can try again.”
The door slowly creaked open. A small face peered out, smiling. “I knew it was a dragon!” Luanne jumped forwards, grabbing Wendy by the hand and dragging her along. “Hurry up, what are you waiting for?”
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“Shell?” Wendy exclaimed. “He only wants to eat his damn shell?”
“Watch your language, Ms. Thimblewart, you’re a bad influence on me and Gregory.” Gregory huffed at Wendy reproachfully, then continued gnawing on the remnants of his eggshell. “Hatchlings instinctively eat their shells after they hatch, it’s a key part of starting their diet. Honestly, you would know this if you had read any of the books I left here.” Wendy huffed. “Oh, I suppose you’re the dragon master, now?”
“Then that makes you my apprentice!” Luanne gloated.
Wendy ruffled the kid’s hair, and they both laughed.
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After several weeks of growth, it was clear Gregory could no longer live in the house, but unfortunately he scared the goats, so couldn’t be expected to live in the barn. “Just what are we going to do with you?” murmured Wendy, scratching his chin. “I’ll have to build you a new home.”
Luanne gasped. “Have you checked the spot where you found him? Dragons are magic, you know.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Sure enough, the dragon-forged door had expanded to accommodate Gregory, and he cheerfully explored his new abode, which now included fresh straw bedding and a drinking pool. But that wasn’t the only change. A new door had appeared on the hillside. Inside was yet another dragon egg.
“Not again!” complained Wendy, with a smile.