Dragon! Book One: Stealing the egg

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Still unsure of what was happening, Gareth slipped a hand inside the bag and rested a palm on the egg. After a while, he convinced himself that he hadn’t felt anything, after all. He hurried to keep pace with Tom, brushing aside low hanging branches and avoiding roots that seemed intent on tripping him in the darkness. Their pace was fast, the path clear, and the footing mostly solid. A pale moon rose. Travel became easier with the increased light.

Easier for the bounty hunters, too.

Tom set a steady pace all night that Gareth fought to match. Suddenly they broke from the shelter of the heavy forest. Ahead, crossing at a right angle was the remains of a rutted road. Tom paused, then turned to his left, following the road with his eyes as it skirted the side of a hill, and said, “Look for a good place to grab a little sleep.”

Right here in the middle of the road’s good enough for me. “Tom, I can barely keep my eyes open. What about the men behind us?”

“Probably still at the river, sound asleep. Or back there at the river trying to find where we confused them.”

“Or right behind us,” Gareth said.

Tom chuckled and started down the road. Weeds and grass clogged the ruts, and in places, vines or brambles grew across it. “My guess is that if everything went right for them, the best they could manage in the dark is to be near the top of that hillside on the ridge where we waited and watched. We have half a night’s travel them, at least. This road is barely used. Let’s follow it a ways, and make it easy on ourselves.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, they’re professional bounty hunters, at least, a few of them. They know they’ll catch us faster if they rest well and keep up a steady chase instead of sprinting. No hurry for them because out here, with those dogs sniffing the way, they’re goin’ to catch up. It’s just a matter of how long.”

“Then why should we bother to even try?”

“Maybe I should have said they think they’ll catch up. We need to change the game in our favor, and that’s what we’re looking to do now.”

Gareth trotted ahead a few steps and walked in the other rut where he could talk while walking alongside Tom. “You think we can get away? Really?”

“I’ve been considering what’s best to do all day yesterday, and thinking all night, too. We did put some distance between us tonight, but they gave us chase all the way from Priest’s Point, and there’s something missing in our thinkin’, something we missed.”

“I’ve been thinking too. They wanted us, or me, so much they risked sinking their boat. That is a lot to risk.”

Tom nodded. “Let’s consider what we do know. We sailed into that port back there, and nobody cared. Then we left without concern from anyone. I rowed out of the bay and mended the sails before raising them. Nobody followed.”

Gareth said, “Later a pirate bounty hunter ship is right behind us.”

“Why? What changed? That’s what we have to figure out.” Tom pointed to a small pathway that led off at an angle. He knelt and examined the bare dirt, allowing his fingers to trace impressions. “Probably a small herd of deer made this. Take long steps and only walk in the leaves. No footprints for a few steps.”

Gareth did as ordered.

Once they were sheltered by tall brush and the canopy of branches, they followed the track a short way, and when it turned into a small clearing, Tom said, “This looks good. Get yourself some sleep.”

“The dogs will sniff us out, here.”

“Not leaving footprints is more for any locals who might use this road and catch us napping. You’re right, it won’t fool the dogs for two shakes.”

“I’m cold,” Gareth said as he sat and relaxed.

“Me too. And hungry. Maybe later we can try to rectify those things, but right now I need my sleep.”

Curled up with the egg cradled next to him, Gareth closed his eyes and almost fell asleep when the egg moved again. Within the bag, the soft shell slowly expanded at one end, while shrinking at the other. The movement was more pronounced than before. Thinking back, he felt certain it hadn’t moved before this night. Is it hatching?

The idea terrified him. A dragon? After being carried across mountains and dropped into an ocean by one, he shuddered at the thought of a dragon emerging from the bag during the night and attacking him. I should tell Tom. A glance revealed Tom already asleep.

At daybreak, Tom shook his shoulder to wake him. Still tired, stiff and shivering, Gareth stood on painful legs and then limped as he tried to stretch them. As expected, they felt numb and sore at the same time. Tom walked back to the road, maintaining a silence that told more than words of how tired the old man was. His gait had slowed, his shoulders slumped, and his chin hung to his chest.

Later, the ruts intersected with another road, one far more used. Clear impressions of wagon wheels showed in the mud near a puddle, as well as the shod hooves of the animal that pulled the cart or wagon. It passed no longer ago than last evening. Tom studied the area around the puddle and finally pointed to the direction he decided they should take.

Gareth hung his head and tried to snatch a little sleep as he walked, opening his eyes after a few steps, and then closing them again for a few steps. It didn’t work. He gave up and stumbled ahead, eyes forced to stay open. I really should tell him about the egg.

Tom had moved further ahead, but he looked as weary as Gareth felt. Tom had been kind enough to offer his help with selling the egg, and while Gareth hadn’t intended to sink his fishing boat, the fact remained that it had sunk. Tom’s generosity cost him his livelihood. Gareth promised himself to repay Tom for every board in the hull and every patch on the sails. But if the egg was about to hatch—what was it worth? Did anybody purchase baby dragons? Were they as valuable as eggs?

Tom might know some of the answers. He might have suggestions, and if nothing else he needed to know as a matter of trust. Gareth looked at Tom again and saw the weariness of a man about played out. When we stop to eat.

They walked until the morning sun warmed them. The warmth loosened soreness and Gareth felt much better. Not great, but better. The road left the trees of the forest and skirted along fields of recently harvested corn. Their pace increased, but neither spoke.

Tom finally pulled to a quick stop. His bony fingers quickly reached out, covering Gareth’s mouth, fingers threatening to choke him if he made any noise. The old man silently pulled Gareth a few steps into the thick underbrush at the side of the road and knelt, forcing the boy to do the same. He relaxed his grip and held a finger to his lips.

Gareth held still and waited.

A teacher strode into view, green hood pulled low in front, concealing his shaved head down to his missing eyebrows, but he walked with the same sliding, gliding motion all of them used. His eyes were glazed, fixed on nothing as he moved quietly. Each hand was in the sleeve of the other arm, and the heavy material of the heavy, green robe looked warm and practical to Gareth. For the first time, he wished he owned one.

After the teacher had passed, Tom shook his head at Gareth. They remained immobile for so long Gareth became impatient. He was about to speak when a second teacher came into view, traveling the same road, but several hundred steps behind the first. His gaze was as fixed as the first.

After he had disappeared, Tom stood and whispered, “They’re always in twos. At least, all the Brotherhood I’ve seen.”

“I know. They’re paired.”

When the sun reached mid-morning, Tom halted them again. He sniffed. “Smoke.”

Gareth caught the scent, too. Smoke meant a fire and maybe people cooking. His stomach growled in anticipation.

They moved cautiously down the road until a log farmhouse came into view, smoke curling into the sky from a stone chimney made of river rock. The farm was small, a single outbuilding for animals, and the garden looked as if it might feed two, but no more. Tom veered for the house.

“How do we know they‘re friendly?” Gareth asked, excited, but speaking softly.

“There’s times when you just take your chances. We’re about wore out and it they refuse us help we’re no worse off than if we keep on, but if they feed us, we are ahead.”

Two massive dogs caught their scent and tried to out-bark each other as they raced in their direction. Both were mixed breeds, possibly part border collies. Tom stooped and greeted them by petting and talking to them as if they were old friends. When they continued to walk again, the dogs accompanied them, running and playing. The door to the house swung open, and a man shuffled out, an ax resting over his shoulder, clearly a weapon if need be. He watched their approach without words.

“We’re friends in need of a little help,” Tom paused and called from a hundred paces away.

The man lowered the ax and nodded. “Everybody needs help now and then. What can I do for you, stranger?”

Tom flashed a warning look to Gareth, then turned back to the farmer. “We’re hungry, and I can pay a fair price for a meal.”

“Nobody pays to eat in my home. You’re either welcome, or I send you on your way.” He waved an arm, “You dogs, get back to the house and shut up.”

“Just doin’ their job. We like dogs,” Tom said.

The farmer held out his hand to Tom when they were close enough. “Name’s Seth. Wife’s inside. Call her Irene.”

“I’m Tom. This is Gareth, but we’d appreciate it if you don’t remember our names.”

Seth fixed them with a stern look, then nodded and led the way to the door, ignoring any sense of danger as if he appreciated the honesty. He called from the doorway, “Irene, can we feed these two? Seems they’re in a mite of trouble, and maybe they have a story to tell while you heat something up.”

Seth led the way into the house. Irene stood as short as any adult woman Gareth had ever seen. A well-used stool was in front of the wood stove, and she stood on it, already cracking eggs into a hot pan. “Heard you talking. How ‘bout some thick slices of pork to go with your eggs? Tom and Gareth, is it?”

The farmhouse, like most, was small, a kitchen, sitting room, and an open door that revealed a bed. A glance revealed it to be as clean as any he’d ever seen. It appeared old, but of sturdy construction. The smoke-blackened interior smelled of winter fires in the stone chimney and well-cooked meals. A low ceiling gave the feeling of intimacy while the log construction for the outer walls gave the impression of permanence. Most furniture had been hand-crafted with obvious pride, telling the tale of the two people who lived there.

Tom and Gareth sat in the proffered chairs, the only two at the small table, and the only two in the cabin. Seth sat on an upturned stump beside the stone fireplace and cradled a mug of steaming mead. Irene placed two mugs on the table, a jug of mead and a pot of hot water. She pointed to a covered bowl on the table. “Help yourselves.”

“You’re too kind.” Tom pour a small amount of the mead into the two mugs and then added hot water. Mead was a luxury to farmers and good manners dictated he uses it sparingly.

Seth looked on with obvious approval. “We’d like to hear your story. Is your trouble coming this way?”

Tom sipped and nodded. “Maybe.” Then after a short pause, “Probably. There are men chasing after us. Bounty hunters. They’re after the boy, here.”

“Bounty hunters!” Irene exclaimed, and then turned quickly back to her stove so the men could talk as was custom.

Gareth said, “I didn’t do anything, but those teachers are after me. We don’t know why.”

“Teachers?” Seth asked in a soft voice that carried more than the question.

Tom said, “I call ‘em men of the Brotherhood. Dressed in green robes and sneakin’ around the countryside looking at everything. We saw two of them out on your road this morning, not far from here. They might come here and ask questions about us, later. You don’t have to lie, just delay telling the truth, if you don’t mind, but don’t get yourself involved or caught trying to cover for us.”

Gareth noticed the pained look Irene passed to Seth. He nodded to her in return and she went back to her cooking as if giving permission for him to talk.

Seth said, “Those greenies, that’s what we call them around here, came for our boy, Paul. About a dozen years ago, now. He was only five. Two of them came here one day and left with him. They tried to leave money, and we refused. They brought two other men with them, fighters. Knocked me around and finally tied both of us up for a couple of days. They left us a handful of silver and broken hearts. Haven’t seen or heard from Paul since.”

One of the dogs settled near Gareth’s feet, and he scratched its ears. “The men chasing us have two dogs with them. Hounds, I think. Trained to track men, is my guess. Following our scent, so you don’t want to get caught in any lies because they’ll know we were here.”

Seth sipped his mead and said, “No love lost over them greenies, and us. As I said, they took our only son, and we don’t forgive. So if they’re after you, what can we do to help?”

Tom pulled a large silver coin and placed in on the table. “Two blankets, some food to take with us, and directions.”

“Keep your silver. I guess that if they’re looking for you, they have descriptions. You need to change your appearance and look like someone else. Irene, I’ll dig into that chest in the closet and pull out some clothes that’ll fit them. I have plenty of old things they can wear.” He looked at them, his mind obviously racing. “You both have long hair. Irene can cut it and shave Tom. Scrape that beard off and he’ll look a new man, ten years younger. Wish we could add the beard to the youngster and change him as much.”

Irene said, “When I’m done with you two, those bounty hunters will walk right up to you and pass the time of day and not know who you are.” She stepped down from the stool and placed two plates heaped with scrambled eggs and several thick slices of smoked pork before them. She said, “If those damn greenies are chasing after you, then we’re bound to help you just to spite them. Seth, when we’re done here, you take them down to the river and give them our old boat.”

The dragon egg chose that time to move again against Gareth’s stomach. It slowly swelled at one end and then he felt a quick jerk. Gareth had been smiling but felt it fade. Another movement shifted the weight of the egg slightly the other way, and Gareth tried to rearrange the bag to his side as if it was a natural thing to do before eating. He didn’t want others seeing the movement from the bag and asking about it.

He noticed Tom’s eyes locked on him, but Gareth avoided eye contact.

Tom said as if intentionally drawing attention away from Gareth, “I didn’t even know there was a river near here.”

Seth pulled a pair of scissors from a sewing box and placed them on the table. “Out behind the barn and behind that stand of trees. Our fork of the river joins the John about a day’s travel south. The John River flows on down to Drakesport, about two days from here. You should be able to lose yourselves in a city that big.”

Irene reached out and ran her fingers through Gareth’s hair and picked up the scissors as he finished eating. “In the city, men often have shorter hair.” She snipped a handful, and then another. In minutes, she had a pile on the floor and moved to Tom’s side.

Seth stood, walked to another room and returned with an armload of clothing. He motioned for Gareth choose some and change. Irene looked away as if by accident, and Gareth hustled out of the fine new pants and shirt from Priest’s Point and into farmer’s homespun that had seen better days and fit slightly tight.

As he adjusted the new pants and shirt, Seth spread a blanket on the floor and placed cheese, hardtack, and dried meat in the center, then rolled it tight and tied a short piece of rope around each end, leaving a loop to go over Tom’s shoulder. The contents were safe from spilling and the blanket ready for travel.

Irene trimmed Tom’s hair and cut his beard shorter at the same time. Then she pulled a straight razor from a shelf and smeared soap on his face, all without speaking. Standing, she only matched the height of Tom while sitting. But her actions were fast and sure, working her way quickly and efficiently around his face, cheek to cheek.

In a short time, both were dressed in different clothing and looked like strangers to each other. The fire in the hearth burned their hair trimmings and old clothes, although it pained Gareth to watch the only new shirt he’d ever owned in flames.

Gareth imagined he looked somewhat different, but Tom had been transformed. The short hair did change him somewhat, but the removal of the beard made him look far younger than Gareth had come to think of him. He didn’t look much older than Faring’s da. The lines remained in his face, but the overall change was striking.

Irene said to Tom, “Those pink cheeks of yours will tan quickly, but if you don’t shave for a couple of days the new growth will cover the fresh look, and nobody will notice anything. Sorry about the nicks, but I was in a hurry.” She wetted her finger with her tongue then dabbed at one cut that continued to bleed.

“If the greenies are after you, you better get a move on,” Seth said, examining their new appearance and nodding in approval. “I see them now and then on the road out front, but they won’t speak to me. They know they took my only son, and I won’t forgive them. When we get to the river, I’ll hide my other skiff so nobody will use it to chase after you. The next closest boat is a half day’s walk up river.”

“Might be better for you to take a pole and do some fishing in your other boat. Row a ways upstream. That keeps it away from them and makes it so they don’t find out you hid it. That’d be hard to explain. Irene will verify your fishing story. It makes both of you look innocent,” Tom said. “Or better yet, take her fishing with you.”

Irene handed Tom a bar of soap. “I don’t fish, and you stink. Any dog will follow your scent as easy as you and me can see a red flag waving in the breeze, but if you get out on the river and scrub yourself, and your new clothes a time or two, maybe the lye in the soap will take off the smell. Maybe make you smell like soap and the dogs might lose the trail.”

Tom slipped it into his pocket with a nod of thanks.

Irene returned to her stove and started cleaning the surface. Gareth caught the reflection of a tear in her eye. Wanting, to say something, his mind refused to cooperate and in the end, he remained quiet. She was remembering her son.

Seth pulled his pole and tackle box off a shelf beside the door.

Irene told them to hurry and be safe, but she was not going anywhere. She had a house to clean.

Seth escorted them outside and led them across a pasture, leading the way down a twisting dirt path past a small flock of sheep to a lone mule munching grass. It eyed them warily as they walked past. The small path entered a stand of willows, and the ground fell away as they neared the river. Two rowboats lay bottoms up, one older but looking serviceable.

Wordlessly, they rolled both and slid them into the edge of the water. Seth said, “Good luck to you, both. I have some fish to catch upstream and hopefully nobody steals my other boat while I’m away.”

Grinning, Tom shook his hand and climbed into the other boat and set the oars into the locks, taking the seat in the middle. Gareth pushed off and leaped into the stern with only one foot getting wet. He settled himself and turned to wave, surprised that the current and a couple of sweeps of the oars had already moved them so far.

Seth stood and watched from the bank. He returned a wave then pushed his boat into the water.

Rounded rocks protruded above the surface of the shallow river near the shore and Tom easily navigated around most of them. At the center of the river, the current flowed faster in the deeper channel. With Tom’s skillful rowing, the boat surged along at a speed Gareth estimated would be about the same as a slow runner on land. If the dogs and bounty hunters were going to catch them, they had better be prepared to run for the next two days. He let out a breath of relief for the first time in what felt like days.

Gareth took the time to examine the river and forest. One glance in Tom’s direction said that despite his change of clothing, haircut, and lack of beard, he was worn out. “Want me to row? I know you’re tired.”

Tom snorted, almost a laugh. “The current’s doing all the work. I just keep the boat centered, but later on, you can take the oars for a spell.”

“Irene and Seth won’t be in trouble for helping us, will they?”

“Not if they stick to their story, which they will. It’s perfectly reasonable for him to be out fishing. You and me stole his old boat. The bounty hunters already know we’re heading for Drakesport, so it’s something they would expect of us. The dogs following us will sniff around the farm and find we were at the house, but not why. Just natural for us to scout around before we stole the boat.”

“Tom, they were so nice to us. We should have made them take that silver coin.”

“They wanted to help. Can’t make a person do something they don’t want to. It’d be insulting to try.”

“Still, I’d feel better.”

“That’s because you have the right instincts, but don’t know how to put them to use, yet. You’ll learn. But, if’n it makes you feel any better I left two silvers on the seat of my chair while Irene cut my hair. She’ll find them soon enough.”

That was the right thing to do. Maybe I’m learning, after all. “Tom, I have something to confess.”

Tom had the boat in the middle of the river, with about fifty feet of water on either side. He sat in his seat so he faced the bow and rowed by pushing the oars forward, a position favored by many seamen, he told Gareth. Sitting that way, he could see ahead without craning his neck and he allowed the current to carry them. He watched Gareth with eyes as cold as the chill in the air. “Out with it.”

“I felt the egg move. The first time it did I thought it was a mistake, but it moved again when we were eating.”

Tom stroked the oars a few more times. “Then we have to hurry. The army buys eggs. Not empty shells.”

“I’m not sure what to do, or if there’s anything I should do.”

“Keep it warm as you can, and we go from there. What else is there?”

The mid-day sun felt comfortable and his belly full. As tired as Gareth had been earlier, he suddenly felt more so. “Can I sleep for a while before I row?”

“I used to have a young crewman just like you. Every time I got him out on the water, he went to sleep. My fishing boat was like a cradle, and he was a babe.”

“We were up all night!”

Tom broke a smile. “You’re the laziest boy I’ve met in a long while. Tell you what, slip over the side and wash yourself good with this soap.” He pulled the rough-cut bar from his pocket. “Irene was right. Maybe make it harder for the dogs to follow and we can use all the help we can find, such as it is. The sun’ll warm you while you dry. I’ll go next. You can get a bit of sleep and then you can take over rowing for me. Now be quiet. Got some thinking to do.”

Later, smelling of strong soap, Gareth smiled as he curled his damp body onto the seat and let the motion of the rowboat lull him to sleep. Things were going to work out. Tom would figure out what to do.

He woke with a start. A sharp movement came from inside the shell of the egg. The bag was next to his stomach. Waiting for a second to collect his thoughts, another sharp jolt drew his attention. Gareth looked around in apprehension nearing fear. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, but there was still a lot of daylight left. He turned and glanced at Tom. He appeared even more haggard than earlier, and his head hung so low his chin nearly touched his chest. Gareth asked, “You awake?”

Tom’s head came up looking startled, and he looked somewhat dazed but nodded.

“The egg just moved again. You’re tired, so change places with me. I’ll row for a while.”

“Know how to row?”

Gareth kept low as he moved to the other seat, forcing Tom to move to the wide seat in the stern. “I’ve been watching you. It looks easy enough.”

“But you’ve never held an oar, have you?”

“Come on. The boat is moving itself. You climb back there and rest.”

Tom settled himself and used one of the rolls of blanket for a pillow propped against the side of the boat. His feet hung over the other side, threatening to dip into the water at any time. “Wake me if you see anything unusual.”

The old man’s snores immediately set a steady rhythm for rowing. Gareth’s first strokes were far too deep, but he soon realized the mistake. His hands burned from the handles of the oars after only a few strokes. He took fewer strokes and let his grip loosen. The river actually seemed to be doing all the work, so he only had to keep the boat centered and away from rocks and overhanging trees. A pull on an oar now and then kept it floating in the right direction and in the middle of the river.

He watched the egg which was now lying on the floorboards near his feet, wondering what to do. It moved a few more times, one end expanding while the other contracted, but he left it alone. It scared him. Beneath the leather shell lived a tiny, fierce creature that existed in the nightmares of brave men. His mind played tricks on him. The creature inside the egg continued to move as if testing the limits of the strength in the shell.

The afternoon turned to early evening, and he considered unrolling the other blanket and wrapping himself in it for warmth against the night chill. He also needed food. The problem was that the food was rolled in the blanket Tom rested on. Movement would wake Tom, and he needed rest more than Gareth needed food or blanket. He pulled the left oar to center the boat again and decided he should have pulled the other oar because the boat almost spun. He corrected his mistake and watched closer to ensure the boat stayed centered.

A muffled chirp of a screech sounded near his feet. It drew his total attention. Then another sounded. Louder, more piercing and even frightening. His eyes focused on the leather bag on the floor of the boat. He saw furious movement inside the bag and shell. Much more movement than ever before.

Gareth tentatively pulled the flap back and peered inside.

A tiny, serpentine head with wide red eyes peered back.

A dragon.

It emitted another screech and then reached down and tore away a portion of shell clinging to its hide. It climbed partially out of the jagged hole and became stuck. It shook and twisted forcing its small body out of the broken shell, whining the whole time. Smaller than a young chicken, it already looked too large to fit back inside the eggshell.

The tiny dragon face appeared fierce, the tongue flicked out, tasting the world for the first time. It was a miniature version of the dragon mother that had carried him over the mountains. Its large red eyes glinted, and a sickening odor made Gareth pull away in hopes of finding fresh air.

Gareth reached down and flicked the flap back over the dragon.

It scampered partly out from the bag, its attention focused only on Gareth. It looked at him and turned the tiny head from side to side, eyes fixed as the tongue darted in and out. It pulled lips back to display an impressive row of tiny jagged teeth. Then it cooed a soft gurgling noise and scrambled the rest of the way out of the bag. Gareth grabbed the bag and tossed it back over the ugly dragon, then shoved the bag, including the dragon, further away with his foot. No, you can’t push it where Tom’s sleeping. It might bite him. He grabbed the strap and pulled it closer again just as the tiny black beast crawled from the bag to the bottom of the boat and stretched as leisurely as if it had done it a hundred times, never looking away from Gareth.

The leathery skin looked dank and wet. The red eyes stayed focused on his. Sniffing continually the nose wrinkled, and leaned closer to smell Gareth’s ankle. It spread tiny black bat wings and shivered. It cooed again, sounding lonely and scared, never looking away from him.

Can baby dragons spit acid? Gareth pulled further away.

Gareth watched it instead of the river, and when he lifted his eyes for a quick check to make sure the boat was centered in the river, the dragon darted forward and leaped. It landed on Gareth’s knee and clung with tiny claws digging in like needles. Gareth sat as still as possible, although he wanted to dive over the side of the boat and drown the ugly beast.

It clung to him and sniffed a few more times, the tongue darting in and out. Gareth ignored the claws and tried to keep his face away from where the dragon might spit. When the dragon shifted its head to one side, he moved his to the other. The more he turned and twisted, the more the dragon moved to remain face to face. One quick shove and it would go over the side of the boat and into the water. Can dragons swim?

Then it reared its head back and emitted another scream, louder and more insistent. The tiny claws dug in. Gareth wasn’t sure he could dislodge it if he tried. He clung to his chest, now. At every opportunity, it climbed a little higher.

Gareth blew in the small face to keep it away from his chin, as he dropped his hold on the oars. Only the oarlocks kept them in the boat.

The dragon pulled away and stared at Gareth. It emitted a soft coo that eventually rose to a shrill scream.

Gareth placed both hands on the dragon and tried to gently pull if free of his clothing, but the thing clung to him with surprising strength. Gareth tugged harder.

The dragon threw its head back and let out a screech like a cat that had its tail caught in the door. Gareth half stood, the dragon still clinging to him and drawing in another lung full of air, probably for another shriek.

“I think it’s trying to tell you it’s hungry,” Tom said softly. “And since you’re his mother it’s your duty to feed it.”