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The Egg |
Katrina skidded around the corner and pelted down the street, if a street was what it could be called. Sand kicked behind her as she ran. For someone unaccustomed to such conditions it would have been a difficult journey, but like most Children of the Desert, Katrina had been taught how to step correctly on the shifting sands. At only fourteen she was already quite capable of making journeys in to the desert alone.
On either side of her, low white buildings sat as if sinking into the sands. Some of the shops had put colourful windbreakers outside, to protect their customers as they perused what was on offer. One building however stood out amongst the white walls and bright lengths of tarpaulin. It was a tall inn made of stone and wood, akin to the buildings one would find in the Northern Lands, beyond the desert.
A heavy wind picked up, shifting more sand than Katrina’s little feet ever could. Her hair was full of the stuff, not that anyone would know. Unlike almost everyone else in her home village, her hair was not jet black but golden as the sun. Even so, as the wind dropped again she combed fingers through her hair and shook it roughly to dislodge anything that shouldn’t be there.
Once Katrina had reached the Northern-style inn she stomped up its steps and crashed through the double doors. It was like stepping in to instant night. From one extreme to another, her eyes struggled to get used to the dark but she didn’t stop. Katrina knew the way.
“You’re late Kat,” called the familiar voice of Joanas.
“I know, I know,” said Katrina. Her eyes adjusted at last to see the tall and lean figure of Joanas, carrying a tray of cups and bowls.
“You’re on cleaning duty in the kitchen,” Katrina’s face fell. “I know you like it out here but there’s a lot of Northerners and I’d rather you stayed out of sight.” With a swish of his apron, Joanas was off again. He carried the tray to a large crowd of men, roaring to one another with laughter and slapping each other’s backs. Joanas wasn’t wrong. Almost every man in the inn was pale skinned and dressed in leather.
The inn had been built for the very purpose of catering to Northerners but Katrina had never seen so many at once before. Katrina knew Joanas was only trying to look out for her by sending her to the kitchen. He wasn’t exactly trusting of men from the North, at least not around young girls like Katrina.
So Katrina scurried towards the length of cloth that separated the kitchen from everything else. She ducked under and moved it aside with her hand. The smell of cooking meats and freshly cut onions wafted in her direction.
Makeer the cook stood and chopped vegetables at the far end. He was only young but already had the bulging beginnings of the “cook’s belly”. The inn may have been a mirror of its brothers in the North but the kitchen was like any other in the Southern village. A great pit of coals sat at its centre with a metal pot, placed on top.
“All these Northern men do is complain of the heat, yet when it comes to dinner they ask for stew,” said Makeer as his knife chopped along the length of a carrot. Once at the end he turned and smiled at Katrina. “At least stew is easy.”
“Want me to start on these?” asked Katrina moving towards a pile of already dirtied plates and bowls.
“No, I need a hand with this,” said Makeer, gesturing to the large pile of vegetables in front of him. Katrina beamed back at Makeer, glad to not be on wash duty just yet. She pulled up a short stool next to Makeer and stepped on to it. Even with the added height she wasn’t as tall as Makeer, who stood straight and held his shoulder back to compare.
“Still not had that growth spurt yet then?” Makeer looked rather smug about the fact. Katrina jabbed a sharp elbow in to his side, a bit harder than intended. Makeer rubbed at the sore spot and then the two set to work, laughing as they did so.
Once the dinner rush had finally slowed down, Katrina and Makeer both took a small moment to stand and do nothing, finding relaxation in a moment of quiet. After a few more minutes of silence, Makeer let out a long sigh. “Well Kat I can finish up in here if you want to see if Joanas needs a hand.” Katrina nodded and slipped through the cloth doorway.
Joanas was at his usual place, pouring drinks behind the bar. He was working still but not at the fast pace as before. Most of the men were still present, if a little more subdued now that their bellies were full. They clutched half empty cups and goblets, leaning back lazily in their chairs. One man even sat beside a puddle of red wine, his cup barely hanging from his fingers as he snored in his seat.
One man however was far more animated than the rest. He held something in his hands and he showed it enthusiastically to anyone with a hint of interest. Knowing she wasn’t needed, Katrina moved closer to the group of Northern men to hear what they were saying. Joanas wouldn’t like the idea of her eaves-dropping on them but he hadn’t seemed to notice that she’d left the kitchen.
Katrina stepped slowly towards them, picking up an empty cup on her way to give the appearance that she was working. If anyone asked what she was doing there she could simply say “clearing the tables.”
The man held up the object high above the heads of the others, giving Katrina a good view. It was an egg, larger than any she had ever seen. It took both of the man’s large hands to hold it. The base of it was a deep brown, fading in to golden yellow at its top. It was as if someone had taken an egg and began to paint the image of Katrina’s own head on to it. She blushed at her silly thoughts.
“If that thing’s real Derrick, I’ll sell me own Grandmother,” said one man in the lilting accent of the Krandish Isles.
“I’m telling you all it’s real,” said Derrick, “I took it from the nest myself.”
“Then you’re an idiot and a liar,” said someone else. His joke was met with deep laughter. Katrina wanted to ask what kind of egg. To her good luck someone else had also missed the start of this conversation.
“What is it again?” asked a woman with mahogany brown hair and a scar across her cheek. The feminine voice surprised Katrina, she hadn’t even known a woman had sat amongst these rather tough looking men.
“A drake egg. I’m telling you it’s worth a fortune. Of course, you could always just put it to use yourself,” said Derrick. Katrina’s eyes widened in realisation. Being on the edge of the desert, like others on the edge of difficult terrain and wide oceans, Katrina was familiar with the creatures known as drakes.
Drakes were a flying lizard of sorts. They were often confused with dragons by the stupid and uneducated, though Katrina could understand the confusion. Unlike the dragons of legend, drakes had only two legs, not four. They were large enough to ride but nowhere near as big as dragons were supposed to be. Drakes were used by the Wind Skimmers to ferry people over places such as the desert. They were valuable indeed, so valuable and difficult to train that even among the rich they were rare pets.
“Oh is it now?” said the Krandish man, “because I reckon after another few pints you’ll be trying to tell us it’s a dragon. Another couple and it’ll be a gryffin.”
“Aren’t they extinct?” questioned the Karndish man’s friend.
“Of course they are you idiot, that’s my point. His lies get bigger the more he drinks. It was an ostrich egg an hour ago.”
“I’m telling you all it’s a damn drake!” stressed Derrick.
“They’re all fools if they even consider buying that egg.” Katrina jumped, the voice had been right next to her ear. A tall fair haired boy had been standing beside her and she had been too deep in her thoughts to notice. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Katrina blushed with embarrassment, she had hoped the boy hadn’t noticed her shock.
The boy was a Northerner like the men. Katrina wondered if he had arrived at the village with them but more intriguing questions pressed at her mind. “Why would they be fools?”
“Because even if the egg is a drake as he claims, there’s no telling if he’s looked after it properly. They could be buying nothing more than a pretty, cold, dead rock.” The boy’s face was grim. “If he did take it from a nest then he has committed theft. In my opinion anyway.”
“I’ve seen drakes before,” said Katrina. “I even spoke to one of their handlers. He said they’re really tricky to tame and difficult to look after. They can be quite violent if they don’t train them right.”
“Or die young because they don’t know how to nurse them,” said the boy glumly. “But what can you do about it eh?” The boy turned to leave and gave Katrina a meaningful look. It was only then she noticed the bruising around his eye and cheek. Katrina held in a small gasp. “Night, night,” he said before disappearing upstairs to the inn’s rooms.
Katrina’s attention moved back to the group of men, now bargaining for the egg. They still couldn’t seem to decide whether it was real or not but offers were made regardless. Derrick calmly closed his eyes and shook his head, refusing offers until he heard a number more favourable to him.
Anger welled up inside Katrina. Had the boy’s bruises been the result of some disagreement between him and one of these men? If that was so, then these men really were cruel and terrible as Joanas feared. And now they had possession of a poor creature, whose first sight of this world would be one of their ugly faces. The boy might not be able to do anything it but Katrina certainly could, if she was careful.
Katrina stepped through the kitchen in the dark. It had been her best bet of getting in to the inn without waking up Joanas. She stepped bare-footed across the stone slabs and through the doorway. Table tops had been cleared and cleaned by her good self only two hours before. Chairs were tucked in neatly, allowing a clear path to the stairs.
After talking with a very drunken red head, Katrina had discovered which room Derrick was staying in. On reaching his room, his sword hung from the door handle. Katrina doubted it was any sort of sign. Most likely he had left it behind in his drunken state to be found by another.
Katrina contemplated taking the sword with her just in case, then thought better of it. If all she took was the egg, she hoped Derrick would either think he had sold it already, or that he had simply left it lying around for someone to find, like his sword.
Being careful not to step on the creakiest sections of the floorboards, Katrina slowly pushed the door open. Her hand flung to her mouth and nose. Not so much to keep quiet, but to keep away the stench of sweaty feet and dirtied clothes. Her heart hammered against her ribs and her free hand shook with the nerves. The man that lay naked on the bed may not have his sword to hand but he was far bigger than Katrina. If he were to wake up at the wrong moment...
Katrina shut her eyes for a second and composed herself. She could not risk thinking bad thoughts, she had to concentrate. So, averting her eyes from the ugly site of the naked man, she searched the small room for a bag or satchel, anything that could hold the egg. A breeze blew at the curtains, shifting them in a wave and allowing moonlight to briefly brighten the room. In the short moment of light she had spotted it. The egg was not hidden away, it sat on its side on the room’s table. It rocked slightly in the breeze that came through the glassless window. Katrina shook her head at the man’s carelessness.
Then a plan came to her mind, she cursed herself for its lateness but if done correctly it could mean taking the egg without fear of repercussions. Thinking the plan worthwhile, Katrina backed out of the room, leaving the egg for now.
As carefully as before she scurried down the steps and headed back through the kitchen and outside. Just beside the back door a hole had been dug deeply in to the ground with a stone slab laid over the top to cover it. Katrina fell to her knees, shifted the slab and reached inside. The walls of the hole were quite cool, as were its contents. Since it was always covered and also always in the shade, the hole and its contents stayed cold enough to keep things fresh.
Katrina ran back in to the kitchen and grabbed everything she needed. Before her lay a handful of bird eggs, some powdered beef stock and a bowl. She began to rub the powdered stock over the eggs to colour them and then threw them in to the bowl, breaking them. With two eggs left she suddenly remember the golden top of the drake egg. Katrina hurried out of the kitchen and returned with a single lily, taken from a vase in the inn’s common room. She plucked off one of the flower’s stamens and crushed it between her fingers before rubbing the yellow powder over the last of the eggs.
With her task done, Katrina made her way back to Derrick’s room, bowl of broken eggs in hand. Once again she stepped in to the room, making sure not to step on the creaky parts. She crouched down beside the table and quietly tipped the contents of the bowl on to the floor. This way Derrick would wake up in the morning and believe his egg had simply fallen and broken. Katrina stood up and scooped the real egg in to the crook of her arm and left the room, holding her breath and watching the snoring man.
Katrina struggled to contain a cheer. She let the egg slip in to the bowl and carried it downstairs. She contemplated leaving by the main entrance then thought better of it. She ran through the kitchen, through the back door and was out in the open at last.
Katrina ran, even faster than she had that morning. She fled past the closed shops and silent tents. She knew where she had to go. She would take the egg to the Wind Skimmers so that it could be raised properly. That was if the egg wasn’t already too cold.
By the time she had reached the cactus fields, Katrina slowed to a halt. Conscious of the Northern boy’s words, she took the egg back out of the bowl and tossed the bowl aside. She could always retrieve it later, she thought to herself.
The egg was indeed cold to the touch. Katrina worried for the creature inside, frowning as she handled the egg. So she crouched down, resting the egg in her lap and hugged her arms around it. She breathed against its brown and gold shell, hoping to warm it. After several minutes of crouching, Katrina’s legs began to tire, so instead she lay beside the egg and held it close.
The feel of having something to hold was oddly comforting. The sand below her was still warm from the day’s sun and even the wind was mild. Katrina began to feel quite happy there in the sand. So happy in fact, that her eyes drifted shut and she fell in to a pleasant sleep filled with dreams of dragons, drakes, great ravens and other flying things.
As the edge of the sky began to brighten with the coming sun, Katrina was woken from her slumber. It wasn’t a chill wind that woke her, or the change in light, or even someone coming to look for her. She felt movement in her arms and forgetting herself for a moment, Katrina jolted upright and away from the egg. It rolled a little in the sand and Katrina blew a sigh of relief. The confusion of sleep faded and her memory returned to her.
As she began to wonder what had frightened her in the first place, the egg shifted in the sand. It was moving. Katrina hastily moved on to her knees and placed her hands over the egg to feel it. There was a strange vibration coming from within and the shell was no longer cool to the touch. A tapping sound alerted Katrina to the presence of a crack. Another tap and the crack grew until a piece of shell was pushed away.
Katrina’s heart raced with excitement. She was about to see a drake hatch! Such a thing was surely a rare sight. Bit by bit the creature inside the egg continued to push its way out. Katrina tried to help by removing any little pieces that came loose. She held her breath as a particularly large piece came away. And then her heart sank.
It wasn’t a green snout that appeared through the tiny gap, but a beak. So it wasn’t a drake after all, just a bird. “No matter little one,” said Katrina softly, “the Wind Skimmers won’t have you but I’ll look after you.” As if answering to her voice the little creature forced one of its claws through the gap, cracking away bigger chunks of the shell.
With nearly half of the egg broken away, Katrina could get a better look at the bird. It was an ugly little thing as most newborns were. Its feathers were wet and too thin to cover it properly, making it look like a balding old man. Its wings twitched, too small yet to do much. From the shape of its beak Katrina could tell it was an eagle or hawk of some sort.
The little creature couldn’t see yet but it moved its head and croaked, as if searching for something. Katrina smiled and held up its head to stop it from falling. “It’s all right little one, I’m here.” It was then that Katrina noticed something rather odd but she couldn’t quite work out what. There was the pair of wings, a pair of clawed feet and yet it seemed like there should be more.
Being careful not to hurt the creature, Katrina pulled away the last of the egg shell. She gasped as two tiny legs and a tail were revealed. The legs were like those of a cat and the tail as well, all covered in golden fur. “I know what you are,” said Katrina in amazement. Did she dare to believe? “A gryffin!” She thought the creatures only existed in stories and yet here she held one in her hands. Something so special they were as legendary as the dragons.
Katrina stroked her finger gently over its drying feathers. As carefully as she could, she picked up the creature and held it close to her chest. It croaked and squeaked. “Don’t worry little gryffin, I will look after you.”
On either side of her, low white buildings sat as if sinking into the sands. Some of the shops had put colourful windbreakers outside, to protect their customers as they perused what was on offer. One building however stood out amongst the white walls and bright lengths of tarpaulin. It was a tall inn made of stone and wood, akin to the buildings one would find in the Northern Lands, beyond the desert.
A heavy wind picked up, shifting more sand than Katrina’s little feet ever could. Her hair was full of the stuff, not that anyone would know. Unlike almost everyone else in her home village, her hair was not jet black but golden as the sun. Even so, as the wind dropped again she combed fingers through her hair and shook it roughly to dislodge anything that shouldn’t be there.
Once Katrina had reached the Northern-style inn she stomped up its steps and crashed through the double doors. It was like stepping in to instant night. From one extreme to another, her eyes struggled to get used to the dark but she didn’t stop. Katrina knew the way.
“You’re late Kat,” called the familiar voice of Joanas.
“I know, I know,” said Katrina. Her eyes adjusted at last to see the tall and lean figure of Joanas, carrying a tray of cups and bowls.
“You’re on cleaning duty in the kitchen,” Katrina’s face fell. “I know you like it out here but there’s a lot of Northerners and I’d rather you stayed out of sight.” With a swish of his apron, Joanas was off again. He carried the tray to a large crowd of men, roaring to one another with laughter and slapping each other’s backs. Joanas wasn’t wrong. Almost every man in the inn was pale skinned and dressed in leather.
The inn had been built for the very purpose of catering to Northerners but Katrina had never seen so many at once before. Katrina knew Joanas was only trying to look out for her by sending her to the kitchen. He wasn’t exactly trusting of men from the North, at least not around young girls like Katrina.
So Katrina scurried towards the length of cloth that separated the kitchen from everything else. She ducked under and moved it aside with her hand. The smell of cooking meats and freshly cut onions wafted in her direction.
Makeer the cook stood and chopped vegetables at the far end. He was only young but already had the bulging beginnings of the “cook’s belly”. The inn may have been a mirror of its brothers in the North but the kitchen was like any other in the Southern village. A great pit of coals sat at its centre with a metal pot, placed on top.
“All these Northern men do is complain of the heat, yet when it comes to dinner they ask for stew,” said Makeer as his knife chopped along the length of a carrot. Once at the end he turned and smiled at Katrina. “At least stew is easy.”
“Want me to start on these?” asked Katrina moving towards a pile of already dirtied plates and bowls.
“No, I need a hand with this,” said Makeer, gesturing to the large pile of vegetables in front of him. Katrina beamed back at Makeer, glad to not be on wash duty just yet. She pulled up a short stool next to Makeer and stepped on to it. Even with the added height she wasn’t as tall as Makeer, who stood straight and held his shoulder back to compare.
“Still not had that growth spurt yet then?” Makeer looked rather smug about the fact. Katrina jabbed a sharp elbow in to his side, a bit harder than intended. Makeer rubbed at the sore spot and then the two set to work, laughing as they did so.
Once the dinner rush had finally slowed down, Katrina and Makeer both took a small moment to stand and do nothing, finding relaxation in a moment of quiet. After a few more minutes of silence, Makeer let out a long sigh. “Well Kat I can finish up in here if you want to see if Joanas needs a hand.” Katrina nodded and slipped through the cloth doorway.
Joanas was at his usual place, pouring drinks behind the bar. He was working still but not at the fast pace as before. Most of the men were still present, if a little more subdued now that their bellies were full. They clutched half empty cups and goblets, leaning back lazily in their chairs. One man even sat beside a puddle of red wine, his cup barely hanging from his fingers as he snored in his seat.
One man however was far more animated than the rest. He held something in his hands and he showed it enthusiastically to anyone with a hint of interest. Knowing she wasn’t needed, Katrina moved closer to the group of Northern men to hear what they were saying. Joanas wouldn’t like the idea of her eaves-dropping on them but he hadn’t seemed to notice that she’d left the kitchen.
Katrina stepped slowly towards them, picking up an empty cup on her way to give the appearance that she was working. If anyone asked what she was doing there she could simply say “clearing the tables.”
The man held up the object high above the heads of the others, giving Katrina a good view. It was an egg, larger than any she had ever seen. It took both of the man’s large hands to hold it. The base of it was a deep brown, fading in to golden yellow at its top. It was as if someone had taken an egg and began to paint the image of Katrina’s own head on to it. She blushed at her silly thoughts.
“If that thing’s real Derrick, I’ll sell me own Grandmother,” said one man in the lilting accent of the Krandish Isles.
“I’m telling you all it’s real,” said Derrick, “I took it from the nest myself.”
“Then you’re an idiot and a liar,” said someone else. His joke was met with deep laughter. Katrina wanted to ask what kind of egg. To her good luck someone else had also missed the start of this conversation.
“What is it again?” asked a woman with mahogany brown hair and a scar across her cheek. The feminine voice surprised Katrina, she hadn’t even known a woman had sat amongst these rather tough looking men.
“A drake egg. I’m telling you it’s worth a fortune. Of course, you could always just put it to use yourself,” said Derrick. Katrina’s eyes widened in realisation. Being on the edge of the desert, like others on the edge of difficult terrain and wide oceans, Katrina was familiar with the creatures known as drakes.
Drakes were a flying lizard of sorts. They were often confused with dragons by the stupid and uneducated, though Katrina could understand the confusion. Unlike the dragons of legend, drakes had only two legs, not four. They were large enough to ride but nowhere near as big as dragons were supposed to be. Drakes were used by the Wind Skimmers to ferry people over places such as the desert. They were valuable indeed, so valuable and difficult to train that even among the rich they were rare pets.
“Oh is it now?” said the Krandish man, “because I reckon after another few pints you’ll be trying to tell us it’s a dragon. Another couple and it’ll be a gryffin.”
“Aren’t they extinct?” questioned the Karndish man’s friend.
“Of course they are you idiot, that’s my point. His lies get bigger the more he drinks. It was an ostrich egg an hour ago.”
“I’m telling you all it’s a damn drake!” stressed Derrick.
“They’re all fools if they even consider buying that egg.” Katrina jumped, the voice had been right next to her ear. A tall fair haired boy had been standing beside her and she had been too deep in her thoughts to notice. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Katrina blushed with embarrassment, she had hoped the boy hadn’t noticed her shock.
The boy was a Northerner like the men. Katrina wondered if he had arrived at the village with them but more intriguing questions pressed at her mind. “Why would they be fools?”
“Because even if the egg is a drake as he claims, there’s no telling if he’s looked after it properly. They could be buying nothing more than a pretty, cold, dead rock.” The boy’s face was grim. “If he did take it from a nest then he has committed theft. In my opinion anyway.”
“I’ve seen drakes before,” said Katrina. “I even spoke to one of their handlers. He said they’re really tricky to tame and difficult to look after. They can be quite violent if they don’t train them right.”
“Or die young because they don’t know how to nurse them,” said the boy glumly. “But what can you do about it eh?” The boy turned to leave and gave Katrina a meaningful look. It was only then she noticed the bruising around his eye and cheek. Katrina held in a small gasp. “Night, night,” he said before disappearing upstairs to the inn’s rooms.
Katrina’s attention moved back to the group of men, now bargaining for the egg. They still couldn’t seem to decide whether it was real or not but offers were made regardless. Derrick calmly closed his eyes and shook his head, refusing offers until he heard a number more favourable to him.
Anger welled up inside Katrina. Had the boy’s bruises been the result of some disagreement between him and one of these men? If that was so, then these men really were cruel and terrible as Joanas feared. And now they had possession of a poor creature, whose first sight of this world would be one of their ugly faces. The boy might not be able to do anything it but Katrina certainly could, if she was careful.
Katrina stepped through the kitchen in the dark. It had been her best bet of getting in to the inn without waking up Joanas. She stepped bare-footed across the stone slabs and through the doorway. Table tops had been cleared and cleaned by her good self only two hours before. Chairs were tucked in neatly, allowing a clear path to the stairs.
After talking with a very drunken red head, Katrina had discovered which room Derrick was staying in. On reaching his room, his sword hung from the door handle. Katrina doubted it was any sort of sign. Most likely he had left it behind in his drunken state to be found by another.
Katrina contemplated taking the sword with her just in case, then thought better of it. If all she took was the egg, she hoped Derrick would either think he had sold it already, or that he had simply left it lying around for someone to find, like his sword.
Being careful not to step on the creakiest sections of the floorboards, Katrina slowly pushed the door open. Her hand flung to her mouth and nose. Not so much to keep quiet, but to keep away the stench of sweaty feet and dirtied clothes. Her heart hammered against her ribs and her free hand shook with the nerves. The man that lay naked on the bed may not have his sword to hand but he was far bigger than Katrina. If he were to wake up at the wrong moment...
Katrina shut her eyes for a second and composed herself. She could not risk thinking bad thoughts, she had to concentrate. So, averting her eyes from the ugly site of the naked man, she searched the small room for a bag or satchel, anything that could hold the egg. A breeze blew at the curtains, shifting them in a wave and allowing moonlight to briefly brighten the room. In the short moment of light she had spotted it. The egg was not hidden away, it sat on its side on the room’s table. It rocked slightly in the breeze that came through the glassless window. Katrina shook her head at the man’s carelessness.
Then a plan came to her mind, she cursed herself for its lateness but if done correctly it could mean taking the egg without fear of repercussions. Thinking the plan worthwhile, Katrina backed out of the room, leaving the egg for now.
As carefully as before she scurried down the steps and headed back through the kitchen and outside. Just beside the back door a hole had been dug deeply in to the ground with a stone slab laid over the top to cover it. Katrina fell to her knees, shifted the slab and reached inside. The walls of the hole were quite cool, as were its contents. Since it was always covered and also always in the shade, the hole and its contents stayed cold enough to keep things fresh.
Katrina ran back in to the kitchen and grabbed everything she needed. Before her lay a handful of bird eggs, some powdered beef stock and a bowl. She began to rub the powdered stock over the eggs to colour them and then threw them in to the bowl, breaking them. With two eggs left she suddenly remember the golden top of the drake egg. Katrina hurried out of the kitchen and returned with a single lily, taken from a vase in the inn’s common room. She plucked off one of the flower’s stamens and crushed it between her fingers before rubbing the yellow powder over the last of the eggs.
With her task done, Katrina made her way back to Derrick’s room, bowl of broken eggs in hand. Once again she stepped in to the room, making sure not to step on the creaky parts. She crouched down beside the table and quietly tipped the contents of the bowl on to the floor. This way Derrick would wake up in the morning and believe his egg had simply fallen and broken. Katrina stood up and scooped the real egg in to the crook of her arm and left the room, holding her breath and watching the snoring man.
Katrina struggled to contain a cheer. She let the egg slip in to the bowl and carried it downstairs. She contemplated leaving by the main entrance then thought better of it. She ran through the kitchen, through the back door and was out in the open at last.
Katrina ran, even faster than she had that morning. She fled past the closed shops and silent tents. She knew where she had to go. She would take the egg to the Wind Skimmers so that it could be raised properly. That was if the egg wasn’t already too cold.
By the time she had reached the cactus fields, Katrina slowed to a halt. Conscious of the Northern boy’s words, she took the egg back out of the bowl and tossed the bowl aside. She could always retrieve it later, she thought to herself.
The egg was indeed cold to the touch. Katrina worried for the creature inside, frowning as she handled the egg. So she crouched down, resting the egg in her lap and hugged her arms around it. She breathed against its brown and gold shell, hoping to warm it. After several minutes of crouching, Katrina’s legs began to tire, so instead she lay beside the egg and held it close.
The feel of having something to hold was oddly comforting. The sand below her was still warm from the day’s sun and even the wind was mild. Katrina began to feel quite happy there in the sand. So happy in fact, that her eyes drifted shut and she fell in to a pleasant sleep filled with dreams of dragons, drakes, great ravens and other flying things.
As the edge of the sky began to brighten with the coming sun, Katrina was woken from her slumber. It wasn’t a chill wind that woke her, or the change in light, or even someone coming to look for her. She felt movement in her arms and forgetting herself for a moment, Katrina jolted upright and away from the egg. It rolled a little in the sand and Katrina blew a sigh of relief. The confusion of sleep faded and her memory returned to her.
As she began to wonder what had frightened her in the first place, the egg shifted in the sand. It was moving. Katrina hastily moved on to her knees and placed her hands over the egg to feel it. There was a strange vibration coming from within and the shell was no longer cool to the touch. A tapping sound alerted Katrina to the presence of a crack. Another tap and the crack grew until a piece of shell was pushed away.
Katrina’s heart raced with excitement. She was about to see a drake hatch! Such a thing was surely a rare sight. Bit by bit the creature inside the egg continued to push its way out. Katrina tried to help by removing any little pieces that came loose. She held her breath as a particularly large piece came away. And then her heart sank.
It wasn’t a green snout that appeared through the tiny gap, but a beak. So it wasn’t a drake after all, just a bird. “No matter little one,” said Katrina softly, “the Wind Skimmers won’t have you but I’ll look after you.” As if answering to her voice the little creature forced one of its claws through the gap, cracking away bigger chunks of the shell.
With nearly half of the egg broken away, Katrina could get a better look at the bird. It was an ugly little thing as most newborns were. Its feathers were wet and too thin to cover it properly, making it look like a balding old man. Its wings twitched, too small yet to do much. From the shape of its beak Katrina could tell it was an eagle or hawk of some sort.
The little creature couldn’t see yet but it moved its head and croaked, as if searching for something. Katrina smiled and held up its head to stop it from falling. “It’s all right little one, I’m here.” It was then that Katrina noticed something rather odd but she couldn’t quite work out what. There was the pair of wings, a pair of clawed feet and yet it seemed like there should be more.
Being careful not to hurt the creature, Katrina pulled away the last of the egg shell. She gasped as two tiny legs and a tail were revealed. The legs were like those of a cat and the tail as well, all covered in golden fur. “I know what you are,” said Katrina in amazement. Did she dare to believe? “A gryffin!” She thought the creatures only existed in stories and yet here she held one in her hands. Something so special they were as legendary as the dragons.
Katrina stroked her finger gently over its drying feathers. As carefully as she could, she picked up the creature and held it close to her chest. It croaked and squeaked. “Don’t worry little gryffin, I will look after you.”
