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They spent the night in a standoff, dragons and baby on
one side of the room, Aleksandr on the other. He slumped onto
one of the benches built into the wall and watched the visitors
warily, muttering prayers under his breath to ward off evil and
bad luck.
In the morning, the baby woke early with a whimper.
Aleksandr startled awake, bumping his head against the wall
and kicking over a clay jar at his feet. The jar rolled across the
floor, hitting the hearth with a crack. Beets and pickling solution
leaked out, filling the air with a sour-sweet smell. Both dragons
stirred and curled more tightly around the baby, nudging her
cheeks with their stubby snouts. This time, however, the babe
would not be consoled, she wailed louder and louder, face red.
Cautiously, one foot at a time, Aleksandr edged closer to
the basket. The dragons nudged and chortled and whipped their
tails, but the baby didn’t quiet. Aleksandr bent and stroked a finger
down her cheek, keeping one eye on the dragons. Immediately,
the baby turned her head and latched onto his finger, sucking
the tip and then spitting it out and crying harder.
“Lapushka,” Aleksandr whispered, “I have no milk to feed
you.” He frowned and glanced at the jars and bowls, the hollow
wood containers that marked his food store for the winter. There
was nothing there he could give such a young child. What did
babies eat other than milk Finally, Aleksandr reached for the paper
he’d glimpsed the night before. He kept his movements slow,
trying not to startle the dragons, but they were too distracted by
the baby’s crying to pay attention to him.
The paper was rolled into a column, tight and slender as a
birch branch, and Aleksandr unrolled it carefully.
Aleksandr,
Be known of our daughter. Her name is Minchka. I bid you
raise her well. I send you my dragonlings as a help. They will keep
you both and bring prosperity on your home. Seven times seven is a
halfling’s life, half of your world, half of mine.
Sinivushka
46 Writing Tomorrow Magazine