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laboriously stretched out to him.
Aleksandr leapt up, knocking his chair over. The two
dragons, curled by his feet, skittered backward, hissing annoyance.
“Of course.” He snatched a cup and poured fresh water
into it, rushing back to her and tipping the cup to her lips.
She sipped at the water, rolling it on her tongue before
swallowing. “Thank you.”
Aleksandr had to turn away so she didn’t see the tears
dampening his beard.
She ate a little bread that morning, and later, the soft
crumbly cheese that was normally kept for holy days. They
clustered together like birds waiting out a storm, Minchka on the
sleeping platform, propped up amid a nest of blankets, Aleksandr
in a chair beside her, constantly touching her face, her hands. He
had to make sure she was real and still with him. The dragons
moved easily from the sleeping platform to the floor, indifferent
to human emotions. Dravij moved more slowly than Zinfir, and
her head dipped often, tail dragging behind her. Minchka stroked
the little dragon’s scales and whispered songs. Night wrapped
around the house too soon, letting moonlight slip under the door.
“Minchka,” Aleksandr said, drawing her attention away
from Dravij, cradled in her lap. “You’re going to have an adventure.
Your mother is waiting for you in the woods. She wants you
to visit her for a little time. Then you can come back to me.” His
voice cracked. “I know that you are still sick, but we have to go
tonight. We must gather the things you will take.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “I do not have a
mother, Papa. I hatched from an egg.” Minchka touched the raw
edge of her necklace.
Aleksandr sighed. “Everyone has a mother, little one. Even
if you have never met her.”
“Is...is she a dragon”
“No, not a dragon. She is beautiful,” he said carefully. “You
can judge for yourself her nature. I knew her very little and it has
been many, many years since I saw her last.”
54 Writing Tomorrow Magazine