The Hungry Dragon Cookie Company

by L. G. Estrella

  He waited patiently for the rats to latch onto him and then took to the air. With speed that only a dragon could hope to match, he shot up into the sky over the castle. His keen eyes swept over the area. There was a forest close to the castle, and there was bound to be something there worth eating. If he was lucky, he might even find a whole herd of deer. He licked his lips. He’d eaten deer before. It was delicious, and the rats knew exactly how to cook it to bring out all of the flavours.

  As Spot flew toward the forest, he passed several birds. He gave each of them a speculative look. He might be a little dragon, but even for him, chasing a normal bird wouldn’t be worth the effort although it would be fun to scare them a bit. He was about to bank toward the nearest bird, an especially plump pigeon, when he noticed something going on below him. Dragons had some of the best eyesight in the world, and the only person in the castle who could see farther than him was his mother.

  There were two children running through the forest, and they didn’t look like they were playing a game. He asked the rats to take a look, and they quickly put on some goggles that used magic to let them see farther. The rodents made some worried sounds and conferred amongst themselves. They wanted to have another look, so Spot slowed down and swung around. Something odd was definitely going on. There weren’t usually children in this part of the forest. It was too dangerous for them. Soon, it became clear why the children were running. There was a pack of wolves closing in on them.

  One of the rats scrambled onto Spot’s snout and explained what they thought. The dragon listened intently. The rats were clever and cunning, and there was a lot he could learn from them. Strength was all well and good, but strength backed by cleverness and cunning was even better. Spot had heard from the twerp about how her master, the idiot, had defeated a more powerful mage through cleverness and cunning. If he was going to train his wings, his flame, his claws, and his teeth, then he needed to train his mind as well.

  The idiot liked to keep things simple, so he’d only given Spot a few rules to follow. One of the most important was for Spot to avoid eating any of the villagers, no matter how tasty they looked or how annoying they were. Instead, he wanted Spot to take care of them. According to the idiot, helping the villagers today would pay off in the future. Spot wasn’t sure how that would happen. The villagers weren’t especially strong, clever, or cunning, but his mother had agreed with the idiot, and she’d told him to help if he saw any of the villagers in trouble. However, she’d given him a much better reason to help. Many of the villagers grew crops or raised livestock. If he helped, there was a good chance that he’d get something tasty to eat.

  The children also reminded Spot of the twerp. They were small like she was, although the twerp was always saying she’d grow more when she was older, but the twerp wouldn’t have run away from some wolves. She would have used her shadows to kill them all before turning them into zombies. With his mind made up and wearing a decidedly toothy grin, Spot folded his wings and dove. It had been almost a fortnight since he’d eaten a wolf. This time, he’d let the rats cook it. Yes, a bit of pepper and some garlic would go perfectly with a wolf or two. His stomach rumbled. But would fried wolf taste better than roasted wolf, or should they go for smoked wolf? He licked his lips. He’d let the rats decide.

  * * *

  William and Tabitha lived in a village near the outskirts of the forest. William was nine years old, and Tabitha was five. As villagers went, their family was fairly well off. Their parents owned a small but productive farm, and things had only gotten better since the current ruler of the big castle had taken over. From what they’d overheard when their father was enjoying some wine with his friends, the old ruler of the castle had been a horrible person. If even a quarter of what their father had said was true, then it was a miracle that any of the villagers had survived. But their father had to be making some of it up. No one could be responsible for so much killing, stealing, and kidnapping.

  The new ruler of the castle still broke the law from time to time, but their parents had told them that his crimes were directed at other bad people. The worst the villagers had to put up with was the occasional zombie patrolling the area, and they’d gotten used to that easily enough. Admittedly, some of the zombies were the stuff of nightmares, but the ruler of the castle was a necromancer. They’d have been worried if the zombies had been too normal. The new ruler of the castle had also been kind enough to deal with the majority of the bandits in the area, and he’d even built them a new lake although it might have been by accident since there had been a big explosion right before the new lake had appeared.

  Their parents and many of the other villagers didn’t like the new ruler of the castle. He was a necromancer, and necromancers were bad news. However, they did respect him. He’d already done more for them since taking over than any noble or bureaucrat would have. Lately, he’d also begun to cull some of the dangerous animals in the forest although he was careful not to wipe them out. If the rumours were true, he still needed them for his necromancy. Nevertheless, he’d killed enough of the most dangerous creatures to put the fear of man and zombie into them. The majority of them had learned to leave humans, which included the villagers, and zombies well enough alone. A bear wasn’t going to risk going after some random villager, not when such attacks typically resulted in the perpetrator getting a personal visit from one of the necromancer’s more terrifying zombies.

  The wariness of the forest’s animals had convinced William that it would be safe to take Tabitha with him when he went looking for mushrooms and herbs. Their mother had apprenticed to an apothecary before marrying their father, and the potions she made could be sold to other villagers for a fine price. All she needed were the right ingredients, and William had been sure to ask some of the village elders about the best places in the forest to find those ingredients.

  William was still only a boy, but his father had begun to speak to him about what it meant to be a man. He would own the farm someday, and his father wanted him to understand how to run it properly. Recently, his father had talked about needing another horse to help out around the farm, and selling some more potions would definitely help pay for a horse.

  Everything had gone well at first. He and Tabitha had found several rare herbs right where the elders had said they would be – and then they’d run into the wolves. The wolves must have been very hungry indeed because all they’d needed was one look at William and Tabitha before they had bared their teeth and charged.

  William had grabbed his sister and run as quickly as he could, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew how this was going to end. They were too far from the village, and he hadn’t seen any huntsmen or woodcutters around. The wolves were going to catch them and eat them. It wouldn’t be a pleasant way to die, but he would gladly have given his life if it meant his sister got away. He’d been the one to take them into the forest. If anyone deserved to get eaten, it was he. His sister should be safe at home. Instead, she was here with him, and she was going to get eaten too. He tripped over a root, and the two of them tumbled to the ground. The wolves surrounded them.

  “Get back!” William shouted as he grabbed a nearby stick and waved it around. “Stay away!”

  Tabitha whimpered miserably behind him, and the wolves snarled. One of them, the leader, stepped forward. It was the biggest of the pack, all lean, deadly muscle. Its eyes were a muddy brown, and it seemed to savour their fear for a long, long moment before it gathered itself and sprang –

  THUMP.

  The wolf was driven into the ground as if it had been hit by a giant hammer, a black hammer with a short, stubby tail, a pair of wings, and a patch of white on its snout.

  Hi. The hammer smiled. Its teeth were very, very big, and they looked very, very sharp.

  William blinked. Had he heard a voice in his head? He could have sworn he had, and it sounded almost like a little boy. Before he could say anything, the other wolves lunged at the interloper. A group of rats leapt off the creature�
��s back and hurled themselves into the fray. The rodents threw needles and unleashed an assortment of different weapons as the creature drew his – and William was somehow sure the creature was male – head back and unleashed a blast of flame so hot that William was forced to grab his sister and stumble away.

  He didn’t see it happen, but he could hear and smell the result of the creature’s attack. Some of the wolves were burning. Despite the terrible heat, William forced himself to turn around. He had to see what was happening. The wolves were in complete disarray as the rats tore into them. One of the rats even had a miniature pickaxe. Some of the wolves tried to force their way past the rats, and they ran headlong into the creature. The creature merely smiled that toothy smile of his and then showed the wolves that his claws and teeth were every bit as sharp and deadly as they looked. Wolf blood splattered across the creature’s snout, and a long, serpentine tongue flicked out to lick it away.

  In less than a minute it was over. Most of the wolves were dead, and the others were all doing their best to escape. The creature toddled over to one of the wounded wolves, and the canine tried to bite him. With something that could almost have been a chirp of laughter, the creature tore the wolf’s throat out. In the meantime, the rats checked the other wolves. Satisfied that all of the wolves were either dead or gone, the creature walked over to William and Tabitha.

  Although his snout and teeth were covered in blood, there was something utterly adorable about the creature. It could have been the way he wagged his stumpy tail at them like a dog, or maybe it was the low crooning sound he made, but the creature didn’t feel like a threat to them. Tabitha reached out to pat the creature on the head, and William bit back a curse. He might seem friendly, but what if he turned those teeth on William’s sister? But all the creature did was make a happy trilling sound before leaning into his sister’s touch. One of the rats squeaked, and the creature moved away from Tabitha and seized one of the dead wolves in his teeth. He tossed it to the ground at William’s feet.

  Eat. Tasty.

  William gulped. He hadn’t been hearing things. The creature was talking to them somehow. But what kind of creature could do that? Slowly, it dawned on him. Wings. Fire. Teeth. Only one creature in the world had all of those characteristics and the ability to talk to people through their minds – a dragon. “Um… we don’t really… eat… wolves.”

  The dragon shrugged. More for me. He looked over at one of the rats, and the rodent squeaked several times before darting off with incredible speed. Finding parents. Stay here. I protect.

  “The rat is going to get our parents, and you’ll protect us?” William hoped he’d interpreted the dragon correctly. Sure, he wasn’t very big. He was only around six feet long, and dragons were supposed to be huge. But William had seen what he’d done to the wolves. If the dragon said he would protect them, then they would be fine.

  The dragon nodded and walked over to nudge Tabitha with his head. The little girl giggled and rubbed the scales in between the dragon’s wings. The dragon made a pleased sound, and William caught a momentary glimpse of something sharp along the front edges of the dragon’s wings.

  “I’m… I’m William,” he said. It seemed only polite to introduce himself to the dragon that had saved him and his sister. “And she’s my sister, Tabitha.”

  The dragon smiled again. William was still taken aback by the sheer size and sharpness of the dragon’s teeth, but there was definitely a friendly glint in the dragon’s eyes. I’m Spot. The rats waved, and the dragon puffed a bit of fire at some wood the rats had gathered. Were they… going to cook the wolves? I’m a dragon.

  “I thought so,” William said. “It explains…” He glanced around at the dead wolves and the scorch marks. “Well, it explains everything.”

  * * *

  Spot headed back to his castle having done his good deed for the day. Of course, no good deed ever went unrewarded. He had a belly full of roasted wolf seasoned with pepper and garlic. It had been absolutely delicious. He’d also made two new friends. The little girl, Tabitha, had been happy to rub his scales, and Spot had promised to drop by her village in the future. Tabitha had hugged him, and William had patted him on the snout. Their parents had looked a bit worried when they’d eventually arrived, but Spot had only rolled his eyes at their concern. If he’d wanted to eat William and Tabitha, he would have done so long before their parents arrived. Before leaving, he’d warned the children to be more careful in the future. They weren’t strong enough to fight off wolves, so they needed to avoid them instead. Then again, it wasn’t always possible to avoid trouble. The paper pusher – Gerald – did his best to avoid trouble, but it always seemed to find him anyway.

  He was angling toward his mother’s part of the castle when he smelled something truly wonderful. He didn’t have to think about it. He changed course. Anything that smelled that good needed to be investigated. The smell came from the kitchens, which he was more than familiar with. He landed and made his way through the kitchens on foot, chirping greetings to the cooks. They chuckled, and one of them tossed an apple toward him. Spot gobbled it up in one bite. Their reactions were a far cry from the terror they’d shown the first time he’d visited, but they knew him better now. He was not about to eat the people responsible for making such wonderful food each day. In fact, the only people he’d be eating were those foolish enough to harm the cooks. Sure, he liked to start his day with a good helping of cow, but Spot also enjoyed a variety of dishes throughout the day, from finely seasoned quail to turkey stuffed with ingots of iron and dressed in half-melted copper.

  It wasn’t unusual for the cooks to slip him a treat whenever they saw him, and they made a point of letting him try any new recipes they came up with. Dragons were notorious for their appetites, but they also had incredible senses of taste and smell. Spot could notice even the most minute and subtle of flavours if he wanted to, and he could easily determine what ingredients had gone into even the most elaborate and complicated of dishes, provided he’d already tasted the ingredients at least once before.

  There were also ovens in the kitchen, and ovens were hot. Dragons liked heat. Sometimes, when he was bored, he’d come and take a nap in one of the ovens. It wasn’t like the ovens could get hot enough to hurt him. At full heat, they were still only pleasantly warm. The first time he’d done it, he’d almost given one of the apprentice cooks a heart attack. The poor fellow had been convinced Spot was about to eat him. Since then, he’d taken to leaving extra food out whenever Spot was around. The rats thought he was trying to convince Spot to spare him with food. Spot wasn’t going to eat him, but he wasn’t about to tell him that either. He liked having the extra food.

  Finally, Spot located the source of the wonderful smell. It was one of the ovens used for baking, but the young woman watching over the oven wasn’t one of the cooks or the bakers. Spot knew all of them. She was one of the maids, older than the twerp but younger than the idiot. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, and all of her attention was devoted to the oven. Spot noticed a bowl on a nearby bench. There was dough in it as well as on her fingers. Moving as quietly as he could, and he could be quiet when he wanted to be, thanks to the lessons he’d gotten from the rats and Chomp, he crept forward and licked her fingers to get a taste of the dough.

  It tasted amazing.

  Alas, he didn’t get to enjoy the flavour of the dough for more than a second before the maid turned, looked down, and then jerked away from him with a scream.

  “Ah!” The maid scrambled back. Luckily for her, he’d reacted quickly enough to open his mouth. What had she been thinking? She could have cut her hand on his teeth by yanking her hand out of his mouth. The maid pressed herself flat against the nearby bench, her hands raised defensively. “Please,” she begged, eyes shut in sheer terror. “Please, don’t eat me!”

  Spot gave the maid a quizzical look and tried to smile as reassuringly as he could. It did not help, and the way the terrified maid leapt onto the bench and brandis
hed a butter knife at him jogged his memory. Unlike his mother and the others, most people got scared when something with large, sharp teeth smiled at them with those large, sharp teeth. He smiled again, inwardly this time. This was yet another reason he loved his mother. She understood the proper dragon way of smiling: teeth, teeth, and more teeth. She even smiled like that herself although her teeth weren’t as long or as big as his.

  But as amusing as it was to see the maid wave the butter knife around – she was holding it wrong, and she’d need something a lot sharper to hurt him – he wanted to know what the maid was making, which meant he needed to be less scary. And he wasn’t very scary to begin with. He’d seen himself in a mirror. He was absolutely tiny compared to an adult dragon.

  Spot sat down on his haunches and did his best to appear friendly. When a few minutes passed, and she continued to look terrified, he nudged one of the rats with his wings. They’d been busy sneaking dough out of the bowl instead of helping. The rodent licked his lips and hopped onto the bench. All of the castle’s servants were used to the rats, so he should have more luck at calming the maid down than Spot.

  It took the rat ten minutes of patient squeaking and gesturing to calm the maid. Spot listened closely. He even scratched a few notes onto a piece of wood with his claws. He liked having friends, and being able to calm people down would help him to make more friends. After all, he only wanted to make friends with good people, and they didn’t have to worry about getting eaten. He only ate bad people, and only if his mother said it was okay.