Dragon's Heart by Jane Yolen Page B

Only the full-grown males were separated in the stud barn.
    Jakkin kept his thoughts mute. No need to disturb the dragons any more than he had already with the noisy door. He didn't want the hens standing and stomping their huge feet, challenging him, and perhaps inadvertently stepping on some of their broods. Or the half-year hatchlings might get into squabbles brought on by lack of sleep, injuring one another or themselves. There were hundreds of ways dragons in nurseries could be hurt, mostly by the carelessness of their human caretakers. He didn't want to harm any dragon, by intention or inattention, and certainly not on his first day back.
    Jakkin let a bit of the dragons' thoughts leak into his mind. They were puzzled but not alarmed. Their sendings were pale blues and greens, not the sharp reds and blacks of fear.
    As he kept on down the hall, the barn behind him finally quieted. The hens and their broods settled back into sleep so quickly, his mind was soon filled with their low, hazy dreams. As he neared Auricle's back stall, he hoped he would find her asleep with her great jointed wings folded up against her sides.
    Lifting her head, Auricle sent him a tentative rainbow in shades of gray. He picked up her sending, shot soft color through it, and sent it back. "
Thou art fine, little mother
."
    He and Akki had let everyone think Auricle was a wild dragon. That wasn't strictly true. She'd been
rescued,
from the trogs, the same cave dwellers who'd made Akki and Jakkin slaves—another secret to be kept. Until he and Akki had returned to the nursery, Jakkin hadn't realized how many secrets they'd been burdened with in a single year.
    "Thou art fine, little mother," he repeated, this time aloud. Though she wasn't fine. Not yet. She was gravid—pregnant—but with all she'd been through, there was a good chance her eggs wouldn't hatch. They might have already broken apart inside the egg chamber. Though she'd had no viscous bleeding, which at least was a good sign. Or the eggs could emerge cracked, the dragonlings dead inside. But Akki had assured him that if the worst happened, Auricle would still be able to breed again, have eggs again, raise a brood.
    The hatchling nestled, wide-eyed, between Auricle's front legs. Some of Jakkin's thoughts must have leaked to her, or maybe his voice had awakened her. She looked up, pipped for a moment, sent him a picture that looked remarkably like Akki, then settled down again. She fell asleep almost instantly, her mind fuzzy, the colors softened by sleep.
    Jakkin smiled and—only when he was sure the hatchling was deeply asleep—opened the stall door. It was well oiled, not like the front door, and swung open without a sound. He went in.
    Kneeling by Auricle's side, he scratched behind her ears. She thrummed her pleasure, the throbbing pulse going through her and right up his arm and into his body. The hatchling neither noticed, nor stirred.
    "
I will stay with thee awhile
," he sent her, keeping his own colors muted. Then he sat down, his back against the dragon's broad shoulder, and began recalling in strong colors how the copter had rescued them from the mountains and the silent, murderous trogs.
    "
Thou art safe here
," he finished, "
in my home
."
    If he'd meant to calm her he was wrong, because she started to stir uneasily as soon as he mentioned the trogs.
    Fewmets! I've gone about it the wrong way.
    Auricle stretched out one pale wing, then snapped it shut again, as if closing a door. At the sound, the hatchling opened its eyes and began a frantic pipping. To soothe the little dragon, Auricle lapped its head with her rough tongue. Finally the dragonling calmed down and fell back to sleep.
    Worm waste!
Jakkin cursed himself.
She doesn't need any reminders of where she's come from.
Closing his eyes determinedly, he put all thoughts of the rescue out of his mind. But his determination itself communicated to Auricle, and she suddenly moved behind him, sending back