Poor Jason had been left by the side of the road, in a basket the size of a hay wagon. While in some countries he might have been seen as a blessing, a gift of the gods, the “appointed one”, here in Tolkeinesque Englandish he was a freak, a curse, a mother’s worst nightmare.
There was no record of any albino dragon having lived in the world, and the science of history was at least a thousand years old. Yet here was a baby albino dragon, abandoned and hungry, and slightly confused.
“No I’m not your mommy child” Brigitta replied as she and her sons Blinken and Nod hauled Jason into their wagon; “but I will love you as a son.”
As a founding member of the kingdom’s oldest and smallest society “The Dragon Whisperers”, Brigitta knew what would befall a dragon whelp left to the elements. Beyond the obvious, a rapid starvation, the hills were alive with predators. No, the animals would know not to approach a dragon, even a baby, even a “cursed” baby. It was the two legs, the human animals that endangered dragonkind, as they endangered the very planet they lived upon. The king would want the child’s head, the hunters would kill it for its hide, the butchers for its meat, the physicians for its organs, the religious for its horns and teeth and the illusionists for its poison sacs, which when ground into a fine power could be set aflame creating huge puffs of smoke and temporary paralysis for any within range; the perfect screen within which one might seem to maneuver time and space.
There were already too few dragons, and none so beautiful as this milky white specimen with its pink eyes and patterned scales.
The crone spoke softly to her charge as her wagon bucked through the moguls and ruts of King’s Road. “Do you have a name my darling one?”
“Jason” he replied; “Mommy named me Jason. Where is my mommy?”
“I’m afraid dear Jason that your mommy has decided to allow me the honor of teaching you of the sublime wonders and treacherous snares of the world at large. I am sure she will come for you one day, far in the future, when her many pressing obligations have been met and she has all her time to spend loving you.”
Jason seemed to be satisfied by Brigitta’s answer. He sat very still for the next few minutes, staring off into the distance as if searching for a retreating pair of wings. Finally he turned, looked into the old woman’s cobalt blue eyes and said…
Brigitta leaned toward the cart’s driver and tapper her son of the shoulder.
“Watch for a wayward cow” she said; “baby needs a bite.”