Trigger snuggles with me for another hour or two, and I take another nap. Once I wake up, though, I’m antsy, wanting to go do something. Trigger doesn’t seem to have slept, and Twila is awake by the time I get out of bed. I grab my belt and buckle it on before bouncing on my toes. Twila grins at me as she rolls over, flopping an arm over her face.

“We already went shopping this morning. What do you want now?” She complains playfully. Trigger just continues to watch me with a half smile lingering on his face.

“I want to go explore again but I want you guys to come with me. Please?” I pout in her direction, and she heaves an exasperated sigh.

“I suppose we have to, since last time we let you go on your own you ended up getting nabbed.” I look at her with narrowed eyes.

“As I remember it, you told me to go by myself last time. Said it would be good for me or something.” She winces.

“I’m really really sorry Lillith. Trust me, I had no idea. I didn’t think… I didn’t know it had gotten that bad. I never would have let you go alone if I had known.” She looks so serious and so remorseful that I instantly feel bad for bringing it up.

“I know Twila. I was just teasing. I know you’d never put me in danger on purpose.” I say, and she nods emphatically.

“Never ever ever. I was so worried.” She says, before standing and walking over to me, then hugs me tightly. I smile softly as I hug her back. We stay that way for a moment before I can’t help bouncing again. She laughs and grabs her discarded clothing. Trigger gets up as well, and once they’re FINALLY dressed, Trigger leads the way outside. I smile and grab both Trigger and Twila’s hands, swinging my arms back and forth in excitement. Trigger promised not to get in any more fights, and I’m ready to relax and forget all about this morning. I point out the open-air marketplace that I saw near on the way home from the fighting ring. When neither Twila nor Trigger protest, I stop at a stall selling scarves. The vendor claims that they are fireproof, and I glance at Trigger for confirmation. He shrugs.

‘He might be exaggerating, but it’s at least fire-resistant, and it’s not like we’re on a limited budget.’ He thinks at me, and I smile.

‘I want this. Will you please buy it?’ I ask, fingering a gorgeous deep green silk scarf. He nods and steps forward to haggle with the vendor. I tune them out, grabbing Twila’s hand again as we take a few steps away to the next stall. This one is selling racks of dangling jewel-toned earrings. I bite my lip as I look at all of them. There are so many! Twila picks up a set of dark blue ones and holds them up to my ears. I smile a bit awkwardly as she contemplates for a few minutes, then shakes her head. She returns them to the rack, then picks up another set, a different shade of blue, sparkling like the ocean I visited when I was younger. She holds these up and nods in satisfaction.

“We’ll take these ones, please.” She says to the dragon running the shop. They nod and morph into a humanoid form, stepping up to the counter. I decide this one is female, though her form is rather androgynous. It strikes me suddenly that reptiles don’t nurse their young on earth. I wonder if dragons do? Is there dragon milk? Or do dragons hatch from eggs? What about shapeshifting dragons? Are they born, or hatched? If they’re born, do the mother dragons carry their young like humans do? What about if they shapeshift? Does the baby shift as well? I’m suddenly filled with so many questions. I don’t even realize I’m staring until Twila tugs my arm. I blink and look around, realizing that she’s already paid for the earrings and both she and Trigger are raising their eyebrows at me.

‘How do dragons have babies?’ I ask them both mentally, and Twila shakes her head with obvious amusement while Trigger’s eyebrows shoot up even higher.

‘How DO they have babies?’ He muses back, falling even deeper into concentration than I was. He starts mentally rattling off many of the same points and questions that I had thought about. Twila grins at us.

‘You two really were made for each other.’ She thinks. ‘And it’s a good thing Alastor and I are here or you would just think all day and never actually find out the answers.’ I look at her in surprise.

‘You know how it works?’ I ask in excitement. She shakes her head.

‘No, but I see a sign for a “Center of Information,” over that way.’ She says, pointing. I look and see the sign she’s referring to. It roughly translates to library, only more… I focus, trying to pinpoint the distinction in the translation. It seems to be “guided library” or maybe “narrator library.” I throw a hopeful look at Trigger, only to see he has already started walking in that direction. I hurry to catch up, grabbing his and Twila’s hands again.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

It only takes a few minutes to follow the signs, and once we step inside I realize what the distinction was. This ‘library’ has books, yes, but it also has people. And dragons. There are clearly labeled signs over certain sections of the room, and in each section there are one or more people sitting in comfy chairs, talking together. A moment after we enter, a young-looking humanoid with wings walks up to us and inclines his head politely.

“Who may I help you find?” He asks.

“We are looking for information on the draconic reproduction cycle.” Trigger says, and the man nods.

“Of course, of course. I shall show you to Master Gertruse. He is well versed in all manner of biological functions.” He says, gesturing for us to follow him. He leads us to a smaller section off the main room, with charts lining the walls and a sturdy table in the middle of the room. A man with frazzled-looking brown hair is perched on the wide windowsill, pouring over a chart that seemed to be of a leaf, bright red, and labeled with all manner of notes.

Trigger clears his throat after a few seconds of awkward silence, and the man looks up.

“Ah! Guests! Forgive me, I get quite absorbed in my work.” He says, sliding off the window bench and motioning to the chairs around the table. “Please, please sit. Forgive my mess.”

He clears some of the papers off the table, making room for us to sit. He’s younger than I first thought, perhaps around 30 if he were a human.

“Now, what may I do for you today?” He asks, eyes bright as he waits for us to sit.

“We were interested in draconic reproduction.” Trigger tells him, and he purses he lips in thought.

“I see, I see. What level of familiarity do you have with our cycle?” He asks, looking us over with a discerning eye. I’m sure he can tell already that we are strangers to this world. Trigger clarifies that we know nothing, and Master Gertruse nods thoughtfully, turning away.

He peruses the walls, then exclaims, “Ah ha. Here it is.” He brings a chart over to our table, laying it in front of us. “This diagram shows the internal workings of the reproductive system. As you can see, there is a chamber in which a shell is formed around the youngling after conception. The youngling can shift with the mother up until the shell is formed, which cuts off the connection between the mother and the youngling. Most mothers choose to stay in dragonic after discovering the hatchling growing, as it eases the transition and is easiest to lay the egg, I’m told.”

Trigger nods thoughtfully and asks a few more questions, but my attention is caught by a poster on the wall. I stand from my chair and walk over to it, Twila following me a moment later. It reminds me of the scientific posters that used to line the walls of my university. Well, I suppose they’re still there even if I’m not. The thing that caught my attention, however, was the beautifully illustrated egg in the center of the poster. It looks like, well, a smooth rock. Only, it seems to shimmer slightly, more like metal than rock. I shift from side to side, and I definitely see a shimmer. I wonder if that’s stylistic choice? What truly catches my attention, however, is the golden band wrapping from the top to the bottom of the egg. It looks feathery on the outside, as if spreading slowly across the rest of the egg surface.

I finally stop staring at the center image and read the descriptions surrounding it. I quickly realize that the poster is tracking the… life cycle? Development? Of the egg. I’m not sure what to call it. There are smaller illustrations surrounding the center image, plain, but well drawn. It starts with a translucent-looking egg in which I can see a baby dragon, then moves to the translucent egg with a silver line spreading over the surface, then expanding to cover the rest of the egg. Once the egg is completely silver, it seems that the gold repeats the process, first making a band around the egg, then spreading over the rest as well. The center illustration has the first stages of the spreading gold. Past it I see the egg completely gold, and then hatching. I scan the text, not really reading it, but pause when I see a line that seems out of place. I go back, reading more carefully this time. So, it seems this is not the normal cycle of development… Apparently, this is a prince, or was at some point, though the poster doesn’t look to have worn out much. It seems that most dragons have the spreading, changing it from translucent to a smooth shell, but when the second band, the gold one, began, everyone was afraid that it meant a horrible illness or death of the child within. The queen laid only one egg, instead of the typical two or three, and the people worried that no heir would be forthcoming. Instead, the prince was hatched as a healthy baby dragon, the first gold dragon anyone knew of. I look back at the first image, of the translucent egg. He certainly was not gold at that point, according to the illustration. He was perhaps slightly golden brown, but that’s the closest I can get to calling him gold. It’s only when the silence falls that I realize that Trigger and Master, umm… what was his name? Master Gertruse, I think, have been talking this whole time. I look back at the table and see the two of them staring at me. Master Gertruse stands and walks over to me, almost reverently looking at the poster.

“I see you found the story of the prince’s hatching. It truly was a biological miracle, and I was blessed enough to witness it with my own eyes.” He says, eyes still fixed on the poster. “Never in all our records of history has a hatchling gone through the changing twice, and never have we seen a gold hatchling. And his coloring has only become more vibrant as he ages.” He shakes his head, looking away from the poster. “A miracle,” he repeats once more. “But here I am, rambling on about our prince again. You came in wondering about our hatchings, and here is the perfect example of one abnormal one, contrasted with the boring, everyday information we all grew up with.”

Master Gertruse pauses, scanning us up and down. “Well, perhaps not all of us. You must come from off-world, with your milk glands and all.” I blink in confusion before realizing he means my breasts. I can feel my face heating as he examines me and Twila carefully. Trigger steps forward, chuckling, as he pulls me into a hug.

“We are from off-world, yes.” He says. I’m just thankful for the chance to hide my, erm, milk glands, against him.