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Description
I leaned against the doorframe, careful not to put my tail into a compromising position. Grandpa had splinted it, but I didn’t want to do anything taxing. Better not to push my luck.

“I’ve gotten his name so far, but not much else. He seems to have some trouble understanding and speaking – frankly, I think just remembering his name was an effort.” I said, looking at Benjamin in the sofa. He was scanning the room with a haggard look on his face, as if he couldn’t really make heads or tails of what was happening. I can’t blame him, I suppose. Judging by his difficulty with speech, he had had either little to none contact with people, or been out of touch for a very long time. Most of the time I had spoken to him, all I’d gotten as a reply was a confused look and a faint hum every now and then.

“He seems wary and afraid – I’m a bit afraid myself to be honest.” Dad said and shook his head. He nodded slightly in the general direction of the sofa. “Do you think he’s going to be a problem?”

I sighed. “Honestly? I don’t know. He seems sensible, at least to an extent – he’s not feral, if that’s you’re thinking about. Still, I’ve never seen the guy before, I don’t know what he’s like AND” , I said as I held up a claw, “we DID hit him with a car. That’s bound to shake him up a little.”

Dad nodded. I was about to continue, when I was distracted by a huff and a series of clicks. Looking towards the sofa, I discovered that Benjamin had found the light switch on the bedside lamp. He was flicking it back and forth, studying the bulb with a bewildered face. I shook my head.

“On second thought, maybe not. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s young and inexperienced. That can’t be right, though.”

Dad lifted an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, anyone who is that fascinated by a lightbulb is either a kid, or you’ve never seen one before. I’m routing for the latter. Just look at all his scars. No one, not even with constant abuse, can collect that many scars in a shorter timespan. Besides, there’s something about his eyes as well. I don’t know how I can tell, but they’re old. Really old.”

Shifting a bit, dad hummed in agreement. “I know what you mean.”

I took my weight off the wall and said “I’ll try talking to him some more. I want to make sure that he’s not in any pain, and I’d like to see if I can have a proper conversation this time. Who knows, maybe he remembers how to talk now?”

I patted his shoulder and walked back into the living room, where Benjamin had given up on abusing the light switch and instead shifted his attention to a small wooden puzzle. I stopped halfway, intrigued.

The puzzle was comprised of six blocks, cut into angular shapes. Once properly combined, they formed an orb with pyramidal protrusions. Benjamin had found it in an assembled state, and had probably picked it up in the key block, causing it to fall apart. His eyes were darting over the pieces, and he held two in his claws. After a few seconds, he put them together and flicked his tongue over them, leaving a tiny moisture trail. He reached out for a third part and clicked it into place.

Fascinated, I watched as he put two and two together and created another, reversed piece which he quickly pushed together with the first one forming the completed sphere. He sat propped up on his elbow for a few seconds before replacing the puzzle where he had found it.

I was impressed. With a slight smile, I sat down on a foot support next to the sofa.

“Nicely done. It took me the better part of an hour to realize the two interlocking pieces the first time I tried it.”

Benjamin tilted his head, and looked first at the puzzle and then me. Although he didn’t respond, I think he understood the gist of it.

I scratched my neck, and decided to try a few questions.

“Are you in pain anywhere?” Benjamin strained his face in an attempt to understand my question. I grabbed my arm and mimicked a painful expression, then pointed at him. “Pain. You, anywhere?” This attempt seemed to go better, and he lit up with recognition. Shifting, he pointed at his outer wing bone. “Pain. There.” he grated out with a semi-deep hoarse voice.

Nodding, I pointed at the spot he indicated and slowly rose. “I’d like to have a look at that. May I?” No reply this time either, so I took it slow. Reaching out with an arm, I once again pointed at his injury and made an asking face. Seeming to get the hint, he withdrew a bit and extended his wing. I touched his bone lightly, waiting for a response. Nothing.

Slowly poking and prodding the injury, I looked for a reaction on his part. He made a grimace every now and then – even growled at one point where I quickly withdrew. The bone seemed intact, and the tissue around it was bruised but not broken. We probably grazed him with the car when we swerved.

Lucky bastard, I thought to myself. A little closer and we’d be dealing with a broken, not battered wing.

Stopping my investigation, I sat back down. With a slight smile, I made a calming gesture and pointed at the wing bone. Making a breaking gesture with my hands, I shook my head. Instead, I hit my arm and nodded while pointing at his wing. “Just a small hit, not very bad.”

With a thoughtful look, Benjamin slowly nodded and withdrew his wing.

“So, where are you f…” A sudden growl from his belly interrupted my question, and he gave me an embarrassed look.

“Hungry, eh?” I asked with a slight smile.

“Hungry. Yes!” Benjamin blurted out and nodded frantically.

I stood up and said “Alright, I’ll see what I can find. You look like you could eat anything right now.”

Benjamin watched me intently with starving eyes as I walked towards the kitchen. Looking at him, I realized exactly HOW hungry he was – his paws were literally shaking at the thought of food.

Damn. I guess he hasn’t been very lucky lately.

The kitchen was as chaotic as always, with platters, cutlery and food bags spread out all over the shop. Sweeping aside a few random items, I fetched a plate and opened the fridge.

Alright, dragon food… let’s see here.

Leftovers from a roast beef caught my eye. There had to be a good half kilo here – certainly enough for at least one dinner, if not more. Considering his size and starving face, I reckoned he’d probably eat it whole. If he didn’t, it would go bad in a couple of days anyway.

Deciding not to be picky about it, I scrounged up a knife and one of the more solid forks – I knew from experience it was hard not to ruin them while eating. With a few quick movements, I cut the beef into a few good-sized pieces. Setting the now empty pan aside, I filled a glass with water and brought the whole thing into the living room.

Benjamin sobered up instantly at the smell of the roast, and sat up in the sofa with an eager look on his face.

“We’re usually not allowed to eat in here, but the exception makes the rule, I suppose.” I said as I handed him the platter. Ignoring the fork completely, he basically mashed his face into the plate and started shoveling.

Taken slightly aback, I raised an eyebrow. “Okay… no fork, I guess. If you’re hungry, you’re hungry.”

It took him no more than a minute to finish the whole plate, whereupon he hastily licked up every single speck of residue. The plate was as clean as if it had just been taken out of the dishwasher (save for the draconic spit plastered across the surface). With the look of a dog searching for more food in an empty bowl he sniffed at the plate one final time and looked up at me. He gave me a big grin and tried to say something. It took a few attempts, but he finally squeezed out something coherent.

“Good. Thank you.”

“No problem. Water?” I said and handed him the glass. He looked at the glass quizzically for a moment before accepting it. He gave the water a quick sniff and apparently determining it safe, guzzled it down. Holding up the clear and now empty glass, he tapped the side slightly, and it rang with a clear tone. With a huff, he handed it back to me.

* * *

Benjamin struggled with his thoughts. There was so much he wanted to ask, but the words just wouldn’t form.

Use it or lose it. An old saying he’d heard so very long ago came to his mind, and it rang true for him at this moment.

Jarl, which the other dragon seemingly called himself, at least made an effort to talk to him. He had trouble understanding everything he said, but hungry was a word well known to him. The fairly sized hunk of meat Jarl brought him was a welcome sight that he gladly welcomed. It wasn’t until every last scrap was gone that he noticed the slightly surprised look on the other ones face and the fork in his hand. Benjamin thought about it for a few seconds and decided that he didn’t really care. A fork would’ve just slowed him down.

There was so much in this house that puzzled him. For one, the strange glass bauble that lit up on command confused him to no end. It seemed like magic, and he was beginning to come to the conclusion that they inhabitants must be wizards.

My typical luck. I’ve renounced religion and the supernatural my entire life, and then I end up with a bunch of magicians. At least they know how to cook.

A sound not unlike the rolling of thunder distracted him from his silent thoughts and he turned his head in the direction of the noise. A great green object just outside the house was causing the noise, and he watched in shock as the boulder-sized object started moving away. The object had four wheels on which it travelled as it moved towards a larger building further away.

Horseless carts. I can’t believe it. Horseless bloody carts, with thunder inside.

With a shaky hand, he pointed at the cart and pressed out a question with alarm in his voice. “No horse?!”

Jarl laughed slightly and replied “No horse.” With a more thoughtful and somewhat confused look, he cocked his head and asked something back. Benjamin strained his mind to recognize the words, and understood after Jarl had repeated it once more.

“How old are you?”

Benjamin halted at the question. He hadn’t counted for a while. The last time he could recall a number was… very long ago, and almost faded in his mind. Perhaps seventy at the time, but certainly much more now. Disturbed, Benjamin remained silent.

Seeing the distraught look on Benjamin's face, Jarl seemed to let the question slip. Instead, he took the glass and thoughtfully rolled it between his paws with a frown. Something was obviously on his mind, and he started to ask another question. Still confused and unnerved, Benjamin didn’t really want to talk anymore.

He turned away from the other dragon. “No more talk.” he muttered and stared up onto the roof.

After a moment of hesitation, Jarl rose and left Benjamin alone with his thoughts.

Description
I leaned against the doorframe, careful not to put my tail into a compromising position. Grandpa had splinted it, but I didn’t want to do anything taxing. Better not to push my luck.

“I’ve gotten his name so far, but not much else. He seems to have some trouble understanding and speaking – frankly, I think just remembering his name was an effort.” I said, looking at Benjamin in the sofa. He was scanning the room with a haggard look on his face, as if he couldn’t really make heads or tails of what was happening. I can’t blame him, I suppose. Judging by his difficulty with speech, he had had either little to none contact with people, or been out of touch for a very long time. Most of the time I had spoken to him, all I’d gotten as a reply was a confused look and a faint hum every now and then.

“He seems wary and afraid – I’m a bit afraid myself to be honest.” Dad said and shook his head. He nodded slightly in the general direction of the sofa. “Do you think he’s going to be a problem?”

I sighed. “Honestly? I don’t know. He seems sensible, at least to an extent – he’s not feral, if that’s you’re thinking about. Still, I’ve never seen the guy before, I don’t know what he’s like AND” , I said as I held up a claw, “we DID hit him with a car. That’s bound to shake him up a little.”

Dad nodded. I was about to continue, when I was distracted by a huff and a series of clicks. Looking towards the sofa, I discovered that Benjamin had found the light switch on the bedside lamp. He was flicking it back and forth, studying the bulb with a bewildered face. I shook my head.

“On second thought, maybe not. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s young and inexperienced. That can’t be right, though.”

Dad lifted an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, anyone who is that fascinated by a lightbulb is either a kid, or you’ve never seen one before. I’m routing for the latter. Just look at all his scars. No one, not even with constant abuse, can collect that many scars in a shorter timespan. Besides, there’s something about his eyes as well. I don’t know how I can tell, but they’re old. Really old.”

Shifting a bit, dad hummed in agreement. “I know what you mean.”

I took my weight off the wall and said “I’ll try talking to him some more. I want to make sure that he’s not in any pain, and I’d like to see if I can have a proper conversation this time. Who knows, maybe he remembers how to talk now?”

I patted his shoulder and walked back into the living room, where Benjamin had given up on abusing the light switch and instead shifted his attention to a small wooden puzzle. I stopped halfway, intrigued.

The puzzle was comprised of six blocks, cut into angular shapes. Once properly combined, they formed an orb with pyramidal protrusions. Benjamin had found it in an assembled state, and had probably picked it up in the key block, causing it to fall apart. His eyes were darting over the pieces, and he held two in his claws. After a few seconds, he put them together and flicked his tongue over them, leaving a tiny moisture trail. He reached out for a third part and clicked it into place.

Fascinated, I watched as he put two and two together and created another, reversed piece which he quickly pushed together with the first one forming the completed sphere. He sat propped up on his elbow for a few seconds before replacing the puzzle where he had found it.

I was impressed. With a slight smile, I sat down on a foot support next to the sofa.

“Nicely done. It took me the better part of an hour to realize the two interlocking pieces the first time I tried it.”

Benjamin tilted his head, and looked first at the puzzle and then me. Although he didn’t respond, I think he understood the gist of it.

I scratched my neck, and decided to try a few questions.

“Are you in pain anywhere?” Benjamin strained his face in an attempt to understand my question. I grabbed my arm and mimicked a painful expression, then pointed at him. “Pain. You, anywhere?” This attempt seemed to go better, and he lit up with recognition. Shifting, he pointed at his outer wing bone. “Pain. There.” he grated out with a semi-deep hoarse voice.

Nodding, I pointed at the spot he indicated and slowly rose. “I’d like to have a look at that. May I?” No reply this time either, so I took it slow. Reaching out with an arm, I once again pointed at his injury and made an asking face. Seeming to get the hint, he withdrew a bit and extended his wing. I touched his bone lightly, waiting for a response. Nothing.

Slowly poking and prodding the injury, I looked for a reaction on his part. He made a grimace every now and then – even growled at one point where I quickly withdrew. The bone seemed intact, and the tissue around it was bruised but not broken. We probably grazed him with the car when we swerved.

Lucky bastard, I thought to myself. A little closer and we’d be dealing with a broken, not battered wing.

Stopping my investigation, I sat back down. With a slight smile, I made a calming gesture and pointed at the wing bone. Making a breaking gesture with my hands, I shook my head. Instead, I hit my arm and nodded while pointing at his wing. “Just a small hit, not very bad.”

With a thoughtful look, Benjamin slowly nodded and withdrew his wing.

“So, where are you f…” A sudden growl from his belly interrupted my question, and he gave me an embarrassed look.

“Hungry, eh?” I asked with a slight smile.

“Hungry. Yes!” Benjamin blurted out and nodded frantically.

I stood up and said “Alright, I’ll see what I can find. You look like you could eat anything right now.”

Benjamin watched me intently with starving eyes as I walked towards the kitchen. Looking at him, I realized exactly HOW hungry he was – his paws were literally shaking at the thought of food.

Damn. I guess he hasn’t been very lucky lately.

The kitchen was as chaotic as always, with platters, cutlery and food bags spread out all over the shop. Sweeping aside a few random items, I fetched a plate and opened the fridge.

Alright, dragon food… let’s see here.

Leftovers from a roast beef caught my eye. There had to be a good half kilo here – certainly enough for at least one dinner, if not more. Considering his size and starving face, I reckoned he’d probably eat it whole. If he didn’t, it would go bad in a couple of days anyway.

Deciding not to be picky about it, I scrounged up a knife and one of the more solid forks – I knew from experience it was hard not to ruin them while eating. With a few quick movements, I cut the beef into a few good-sized pieces. Setting the now empty pan aside, I filled a glass with water and brought the whole thing into the living room.

Benjamin sobered up instantly at the smell of the roast, and sat up in the sofa with an eager look on his face.

“We’re usually not allowed to eat in here, but the exception makes the rule, I suppose.” I said as I handed him the platter. Ignoring the fork completely, he basically mashed his face into the plate and started shoveling.

Taken slightly aback, I raised an eyebrow. “Okay… no fork, I guess. If you’re hungry, you’re hungry.”

It took him no more than a minute to finish the whole plate, whereupon he hastily licked up every single speck of residue. The plate was as clean as if it had just been taken out of the dishwasher (save for the draconic spit plastered across the surface). With the look of a dog searching for more food in an empty bowl he sniffed at the plate one final time and looked up at me. He gave me a big grin and tried to say something. It took a few attempts, but he finally squeezed out something coherent.

“Good. Thank you.”

“No problem. Water?” I said and handed him the glass. He looked at the glass quizzically for a moment before accepting it. He gave the water a quick sniff and apparently determining it safe, guzzled it down. Holding up the clear and now empty glass, he tapped the side slightly, and it rang with a clear tone. With a huff, he handed it back to me.

* * *

Benjamin struggled with his thoughts. There was so much he wanted to ask, but the words just wouldn’t form.

Use it or lose it. An old saying he’d heard so very long ago came to his mind, and it rang true for him at this moment.

Jarl, which the other dragon seemingly called himself, at least made an effort to talk to him. He had trouble understanding everything he said, but hungry was a word well known to him. The fairly sized hunk of meat Jarl brought him was a welcome sight that he gladly welcomed. It wasn’t until every last scrap was gone that he noticed the slightly surprised look on the other ones face and the fork in his hand. Benjamin thought about it for a few seconds and decided that he didn’t really care. A fork would’ve just slowed him down.

There was so much in this house that puzzled him. For one, the strange glass bauble that lit up on command confused him to no end. It seemed like magic, and he was beginning to come to the conclusion that they inhabitants must be wizards.

My typical luck. I’ve renounced religion and the supernatural my entire life, and then I end up with a bunch of magicians. At least they know how to cook.

A sound not unlike the rolling of thunder distracted him from his silent thoughts and he turned his head in the direction of the noise. A great green object just outside the house was causing the noise, and he watched in shock as the boulder-sized object started moving away. The object had four wheels on which it travelled as it moved towards a larger building further away.

Horseless carts. I can’t believe it. Horseless bloody carts, with thunder inside.

With a shaky hand, he pointed at the cart and pressed out a question with alarm in his voice. “No horse?!”

Jarl laughed slightly and replied “No horse.” With a more thoughtful and somewhat confused look, he cocked his head and asked something back. Benjamin strained his mind to recognize the words, and understood after Jarl had repeated it once more.

“How old are you?”

Benjamin halted at the question. He hadn’t counted for a while. The last time he could recall a number was… very long ago, and almost faded in his mind. Perhaps seventy at the time, but certainly much more now. Disturbed, Benjamin remained silent.

Seeing the distraught look on Benjamin's face, Jarl seemed to let the question slip. Instead, he took the glass and thoughtfully rolled it between his paws with a frown. Something was obviously on his mind, and he started to ask another question. Still confused and unnerved, Benjamin didn’t really want to talk anymore.

He turned away from the other dragon. “No more talk.” he muttered and stared up onto the roof.

After a moment of hesitation, Jarl rose and left Benjamin alone with his thoughts.