The Weight of a Hatchling
The next morning, Leon woke to a heavy weight pressing down on his chest.
At first he thought a bag he had failed to secure properly the night before had rolled onto him. The satchel, packed with dozens of notebooks, was heavier than most stones, and on the road, when the bedding was poor, its straps sometimes came loose and pinned his side or his legs.
This time was different.
The weight on his chest did not stay still. It rose and fell at a steady rhythm, and close to his face he felt a hot, damp breath.
Huff.
Huff.
With every exhale a lukewarm wind brushed his chin and cheek, mixed with a low, excited snuffling.
He carefully lifted his eyelids.
What filled his vision was a pair of enormous golden eyes.
Barely a handspan from Leon’s face floated the head of a young dragon. Ugalu had both front paws planted on his chest and was leaning far forward, mouth half open, long red tongue lolling out. His tail thumped the blanket without pause, as if he had been waiting all night in high spirits, and those round eyes glittered, determined not to miss even the smallest movement of the man who had just woken.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Each time the thick tail struck floor and bedding in turn, a small vibration traveled up through Leon’s body.
Still half asleep, Leon looked at Ugalu. Ugalu looked down at him without blinking. Silence stretched between them for a moment.
Leon raised his right hand, rubbed the corner of his eye, and looked again. The young dragon in front of him did not vanish. Instead, delighted at being recognized, he leaned a little closer. The damp tip of his tongue nearly brushed Leon’s nose.
Leon jerked his head back on instinct. But the back of his skull was already against the folded coat he had used as a pillow, and the weight on his chest made sitting up no easy matter. He steadied his breathing, then slid a hand under one of Ugalu’s front paws.
Outwardly the dragon was still a hatchling, yet the foreleg supporting his weight held far more solid strength than expected. Dense muscle packed beneath the smooth scales pressed clearly into Leon’s palm, and the claws at the tips, though toy-small, were sharp. Fortunately Ugalu had folded them completely so as not to hurt him. Only after confirming that did Leon let a little of the tension ease.
Still looking down at him with tongue out, Ugalu received a sleep-roughened voice.
“Ugalu… right? You’re heavier than I thought.”
“Oong-wang!”
Whether he recognized his name or took the word “heavy” as praise, Ugalu answered with a spirited cry. Warm wind burst from his mouth and ruffled Leon’s bangs. The tail beat the floor even faster.
Thump-thump-thump-thump.
Leon narrowed his eyes against the wind pouring over his face.
“Your voice is louder than I expected, too.”
“Oong-wang!”
This time the cry was even more confident. Ugalu seemed simply happy that Leon was speaking to him at all. He lifted one front paw and set it down again on Leon’s chest; in that instant Leon felt half the air leave his lungs.
“Ugh.”
The short groan escaped him, and Ugalu’s movement stopped at once. The happily thrashing tail froze against the floor. The hatchling drew his tongue back in, lowered his head a little, and studied Leon’s face. The joy that had filled the golden eyes a moment earlier drained away, replaced by anxious uncertainty.
Seeing the change, Leon slowly exhaled. He had heard that dragons understood human speech. He had confirmed it with Lakia the night before. But understanding words and reacting this quickly to a small sound of pain were slightly different matters.
Carefully, so Ugalu would not think he had hurt him, Leon closed his hand around the front paw. The hard scales were cool, yet living warmth came clearly through them.
“It’s all right. I’m not hurt. I just didn’t expect you to be up here like this.”
Ugalu watched Leon’s lips move. After a moment he shifted his body a little farther back. The force in the front paws lessened, and the crushing weight on Leon’s chest grew lighter. Yet he showed no intention of getting down completely; both paws remained planted on Leon’s body.
Looking at that stubborn posture, Leon’s mouth curved the slightest bit.
“No plans to get down, I see?”
“Oong.”
Unlike the earlier booming cry, the sound was short and low—almost as if he were answering that he did not want to get down.
Leon turned his head slightly and took in his surroundings. The place where he had slept was the small room Lakia had prepared for him. It had been carved into the cave wall, yet the surfaces were not rough; long years of careful finishing showed. Thick animal hides lay in layers on the floor, and the blanket he had slept under still carried a faint scent of sun and dry grass. Against one wall his sword and satchel sat neatly; the satchel’s buckle was still fastened the way he had left it the night before.
Through the cloth that screened the cave mouth, morning sunlight filtered in thin shafts. Soft white light cut a long path across the floor, and tiny dust motes drifted slowly inside it. From farther away came the sounds of Liberia waking. Somewhere orcs were moving timber—heavy footfalls, deep voices calling to one another that echoed off the canyon walls. Farther still, young dragons seemed to be chasing one another; short cries and the beat of wings followed one after another. The canyon that had been silent at night was beginning, with the rising sun, to move like some vast living thing.
Leon listened to those sounds, then looked back at Ugalu. The hatchling was still sitting on his chest—more precisely, hind legs and rump on the blanket, upper body leaning against Leon in an awkward half-sprawl. Even so, his bulk was large enough to cover a good portion of Leon’s chest and stomach. Hearing only “young dragon,” Leon had imagined the weight of a cat or small dog; in reality it felt like having an entire suit of armor laid across him. Bone and muscle were packed far more solidly than the outward appearance suggested.
He studied the underside of Ugalu’s neck. The scales caught the sunlight and glowed softly; not a speck of dust lay between them. He did not need to ask how carefully Lakia cared for him.
Sensing the gaze, Ugalu tilted his head.
“Oong?”
“Just looking.”
After a brief hesitation Leon raised his hand and set it on Ugalu’s head. The night before the hatchling had come close several times, yet Leon had never properly stroked him. Unsure whether a sudden touch would be welcome, he first simply rested his palm there.
Ugalu did not pull away. Instead he half-closed his eyes and pushed his head up into the palm. Confirmed, Leon slowly moved his hand from between the horns down to the nape. The scales were smoother than expected. As his palm followed the hard surface the grain of the scales ran in a consistent direction, and near the neck a faint warmth rose.
Ugalu’s tail began to move again. At first only a little. Then a little more.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
When Leon stroked the head once more, Ugalu stretched his neck long and closed his eyes completely. His mouth parted slightly, and with every breath a low, soft sound rolled from his throat. The sight reminded Leon of the hunting-dog puppies he had seen as a child. The difference was that those dogs never grew taller than a man’s waist, while the being before him might one day soar through the sky with a body larger than a mountain.
Looking down at Ugalu resting contentedly under his hand, Leon felt a strange emotion. In human records dragons had always been distant beings and disasters—creatures that flew above the clouds, burned villages, swallowed knights and armies, and overturned the fates of kingdoms. Some wrote that a dragon’s heart granted eternal life; others claimed a single scale could make armor no blade could pierce. Certain nations believed the tales and sent armies. Certain kings tried to make dragon eggs symbols of royal power; certain mages captured hatchlings to study the power of their breath.
Leon himself had read such records for a long time. Yet the young dragon now sitting on his chest was neither a disaster that would topple kingdoms nor material for immortality. He was a child who had waited from morning for him to open his eyes, and who wagged his tail with joy the moment his name was spoken.
Leon’s hand paused. Ugalu immediately opened his eyes and shoved his head against the palm, urging him not to stop. Leon found himself smiling faintly and resumed stroking.
“You want me to keep going?”
“Oong-wang!”
“That one you answer clearly.”
Satisfied, Ugalu shifted one front paw closer to Leon’s shoulder. Then he lowered himself further and forced his head into the space between Leon’s neck and chin. Cold, hard horns touched the jaw; warm breath tickled the nape. Leon slid an arm under the dragon’s back to support him. At once a far heavier body than expected settled fully onto his arm. He could not help narrowing his brow.
“You really are heavy. Do you have rocks inside you?”
“Oong-wang!”
“That’s nothing to be proud of.”
Even as he said it he did not push Ugalu away. Instead he slowly rolled onto his side, planted one arm on the floor, and raised his upper body. With the hatchling still clinging to his chest it took far more strength than usual; one wrong move and they would both tumble onto the blankets. Yet while Leon changed position Ugalu remained astonishingly still—wings pressed tight to his body, claws fully retracted, holding only to Leon’s arm and clothes.
When Leon finally sat with his back against the wall, Ugalu climbed down as if he had been waiting and settled onto his lap. The long tail coiled once around Leon’s thigh; both wings folded neatly against his sides. Leon looked down at the young dragon filling his knees. Sitting, the weight was even more obvious—heavier than old plate armor, about the same as two travel packs put together. Yet Ugalu, completely unaware of how heavy he was, sat with his mouth open again. The tongue poked out to one side once more.
Leon regarded that face for a while, then asked,
“How long have you been here?”
“Oong?”
“Did you wait the whole time I was asleep?”
Whether Ugalu understood the question or not, he made a large nodding motion. Leon checked the angle of the sunlight seeping through the cave mouth. Sunrise itself seemed already past; the light stretched well into the room. If Ugalu had truly waited only for him to wake, he had likely been in that spot for quite some time.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Oong-wang.”
“…That doesn’t tell me much.”
When Leon slowly scratched under Ugalu’s chin, the hatchling lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. There was probably no special reason. He had simply wanted to be near, or remembered being played with the day before and come looking first thing in the morning.
Leon knew why the young dragon followed him so closely. When they first met he had saved him from danger. At the time he had not thought deeply about it. A small life had been about to be hurt right in front of him, and his sword could reach, so he had moved. That single action seemed to have remained far larger in Ugalu’s mind than expected. Perhaps dragons remembered kindness longer than humans did.
While he was lost in that thought, the cloth screening the cave entrance was pushed aside. Morning sunlight poured into the room all at once. Leon narrowed his eyes against the glare; Ugalu also turned his head toward the entrance.
There stood Lakia, looking as if she had only just woken. Her silver hair was not neatly arranged as usual but tumbled around her shoulders and face; the black robe’s waist sash was loosely tied. In one hand she held a wooden cup from which steam rose; with the other she rubbed the corner of her eye as if chasing away the last of sleep.
She took one step into the room and then stopped dead at the sight of Ugalu settled on Leon’s lap. Ugalu cried out happily at the sight of her.
“Oong-wang!”
Lakia did not answer at once. She looked back and forth between the two of them. Leon sat with his back to the wall, scratching under Ugalu’s chin; Ugalu had his eyes closed, tail wrapped around the man’s thigh. No one would have believed they had met only the day before.
Lakia blinked once, then brought the cup to her lips. Only after a sip did she speak in a still-sleepy voice.
“So that’s where you were. I didn’t see you this morning and thought you’d gone off to play with the others.”
“Oong.”
Ugalu answered shortly but did not leave Leon’s lap. If anything he tightened his tail around Leon’s leg, as though worried she might take him away. Lakia’s red eyes moved to that tail, then up to Ugalu’s face resting contentedly under Leon’s hand. She let out a small, incredulous laugh.
“You’re sticking to Leon a little too much since yesterday, aren’t you?”
“Oong-wang!”
“I don’t think that’s something you should answer so proudly.”
Ugalu, apparently not understanding the scolding, simply stuck out his tongue and wagged his tail. Leon endured the weight shifting on his knees with every movement and looked at Lakia.
“When I opened my eyes this morning he was already on my chest. I don’t know how long he’d been waiting.”
Lakia nodded as if it were no surprise.
“Probably since before sunrise. Once this one takes a liking to someone, he follows them relentlessly.”
“Is that so.”
“Mm.”
Leon’s hand paused. He looked down at Ugalu sitting on his lap with eyes closed in satisfaction.
“That much?”
“Mm. If you try to keep him out he cries.”
Leon slowly raised his eyes to Lakia. She did not look like someone lying. Rather, she tilted her cup with the weary expression of someone who had been through it many times. He looked down at Ugalu again. The hatchling opened his eyes and met his gaze. Mouth still open, tail moving lazily. After a moment’s thought Leon said quietly,
“It seems this requires more resolve than I expected.”
Lakia smiled over her wooden cup.
“Just figuring that out?”
“Even so, I don’t mind.”
At those words Lakia’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. Ugalu, as if understanding, suddenly sat bolt upright. The abrupt movement pressed hard on Leon’s thighs, and immediately the young dragon’s front paws reached for his chest.
“Oong-wang!”
Ugalu burst into a joyful cry and clung to Leon again. This time Leon raised both arms in advance and caught the body. The heavy weight poured into his arms, but he did not fall. Ugalu rested his head on Leon’s shoulder and rubbed his face against the nape. Scales rustled against the collar; warm breath tickled his ear. Looking down at the hatchling filling his arms, Leon slowly patted the solid back. Twice. Three times. Ugalu’s tail whipped rapidly beside his leg.
Lakia watched in silence. The playful expression had already settled into something quieter. Over the centuries many humans had come to Liberia. Some had tried to sneak in; some had come hunting scales or eggs; some had arrived with weapons, gripped by fear. None of them had looked at a dragon child with eyes like these. Not power. Not value. Not danger. Without first weighing any of those things, simply taking into his arms the child who had waited for him—this was the first human who had done so. And above all, Ugalu was this happy.
Lakia tightened her fingers around the cup for a moment, then relaxed them. She still said nothing. She only watched for a long time: Ugalu wagging his tail in Leon’s arms, and Leon, who found the weight burdensome yet never put him down.
Unaware of that gaze, Leon spoke to Ugalu.
“But I’d like you to get down now. I need to wash and straighten my clothes.”
“Oong.”
Ugalu answered shortly. Yet both front paws still gripped Leon’s shoulders firmly. Leon waited a moment. Ugalu did not move.
“I said get down?”
“Oong.”
“You’re supposed to get down, not just answer?”
“Oong-wang.”
Instead the hatchling buried his face even deeper against Leon’s neck.
“Pffft…”
Lakia finally could not hold it in and burst out laughing. Clear laughter filled the morning cave. Leon looked at her with a helpless expression; she wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes with a finger and said,
“Give up. You won’t be getting free of him for a while.”
Leon looked down at Ugalu clinging to his neck. Then, as if accepting that his morning had changed completely in less than a day, he let out a long breath.
“In that case I at least wish you’d get a little lighter…”
“Oong-wang!”
With Ugalu’s vigorous reply the tail began thumping the floor hard again.
And so Leon’s day began—with a young dragon held in his arms.