A Flight for Freedom

Contest: The Writer's Cramp

Prompt: A Flight of Freedom

1,000 words or less







Bann tilted his hand to look at the dragon better.  Easing one finger under her wing, he stroked it outwards gently.  Back arching and tail flicking, the hatchling unfurled her wing; the delicate membrane stretched tight over the tiny bones.

Murmuring softly, Bann removed his finger from under her right wing, and slid it under the left one, teasing the wing away from her body.

The dragonet mewed in pain as the crooked bones refused to straighten.  Tears in the membrane stood out like gashes in her wing and the bright fire in her scales was a faded milky-white.

His jaw tensing against emotion, Bann lowered the tiny dragon into a nest-crate and carefully replaced the grated lid.



She had survived the night.  But will she eat?

Bann lifted the grating and dropped in a few blades of flamegrass.  The dragon stirred and crept over to the grass leaf.  She moved slowly, the damaged left wing held tightly against her body; none of the scampering and lively chittering Bann normally associated with day-old hatchlings.  This one already seemed old.

“Here, try this one.  It’s dipped in poppy-syrup.”  Bann kept his voice low and soothing, knowing that the words meant nothing to the infant, but that the tone could mean all.  He held out a slim blade of flamegrass.  Sitting back on her haunches, the dragon delicately took the leaf.  Pale eyes fixed on Bann, she began to chew.

“Suppose we ought to name you little one,” Bann reached out and tried to stroke the dragon’s neck.  Like her hatch-mates, she showed no fear and simply cocked her head when Bann spoke.  “Snowy maybe?  No, you are too iridescent, opalescent.  Opal.”



Bann took a swig of coffee and grimaced.  Cold.  He slumped down on his stool, pages of notes in front of him.  Books and parchments littered the workbench, a number sloshed with coffee or tea or limbane sap.  Bann put his head in his hands, rubbing his temples.

Long shadows told him the sun had begun sinking outside, time to build up the fire and feed the dragons.  And me, I guess.  He glanced back at the workbench, his breakfast sat half-eaten at the end.  No sign of any lunch, so he must have forgotten to eat at mid-day, he reason.  Again.  Damn, I wish Cam was back, I am so much more organised when I have the old grouch to look after.  He shuffled his papers into some semblance of order and, scooping up the feed went to feed the dragons.

He was still not sure what to do with Opal though.  That she would never fly was evident from the knotted bone joints, even if the tears in her wing membrane ever healed.

A flightless dragon.  What a ghastly thought.



As the healthy hatchlings fought over flamegrass, Bann cleared a space on the workbench and took Opal out of her crate.

She had started growing, but where the others were now the size of Bann’s fist, Opal was barely two thirds that size.

She flicked her tail, reds and blues flashing through her white scales.  She could move a lot faster now and tended to ignore the poppy-syrup bathed leaves unless something knocked against her deformed wing.  She chittered quietly to herself, making the little clicks and hisses all young dragons did.

Bann sat down on his stool in front of her.  If he lent forward just so, he could make himself eye-level with the dragonet.  Opal stood up on her hind legs, an almost human look of indignation on her face.

“Alright, alright I was just trying to be friendly.”  Bann straighten and reached out to stroke her.  “Look, if you stay on the bench-top and do not eat any of Cam’s papers, you can stay out whilst I finish studying.”  He re-arranged the books, putting Cam’s older texts well out of reach, to make a little den for her.  “Here’s some limbane, and I’m going to put the candle all the way over here.”  Smiling, Bann dipped his pen in the ink pot and settled back to work.



It was the scratching above the fireplace that disturbed him.

The candle had burnt down a good few hours worth and Opal was no where to be seen.

“Damn lizard.”  He walked over to the hearth and picked up the poker.  “Hope that’s not another rat,” he muttered.  “Cam will go crazy if we loose any more eggs or hatchlings.”  He waved the candle towards the rafters and started as the shadows flashed a brilliant, fiery white.  “Opal?  How in seven hell’s did you get up there?”  He played the light over the room, pale scratch marks lined the door frame, showing where she had scrambled her way into the roof.

Bemused, and not entirely certain how he was going to get her down, Bann opened Opal’s nest-crate and picked up a sheaf of flamegrass.  Carrying the flamegrass and the stool back to the fireside, he climbed onto the stool and held the flamegrass up towards the dragon.

Opal cocked her head, the rafter was still a good eight inches beyond Bann’s reach.

“Dammit Opal, come back down will you?  This is no time to be making a break for freedom.”  He sighed, of course even a flightless dragon would still try to perch in the highest place possible.  Hating himself, he dropped the flamegrass and took up the poke again.  Steadying himself on the stool, he jabbed the poker up, praying Opal would scuttle somewhere lower.

She fell.



“No!” Bann shouted as Opal slide off the rafter.  With a shriek of pain, she opened both wings and managed a clumsy glide to the floor.

Pouncing on her, Bann clutched the dragon to his chest.  “Poor little lady, that was an impressive fall though.  Not really a flight, but at least we know if you are ever in danger, you can glide your way to freedom.”





Word count: 1000