The book had arrived! Scott scooped it up; it felt like a large, leather-bound rare book. A sticky note read: 'We thought you might need this sooner rather than later.' He wanted to rip it open or throw it down and hide. Who were these people? Were they trying to help, or had they orchestrated this? He looked up at the sky, seeing nothing. They knew where he lived, knew he needed the book, and had access to a live feed of his backyard. Did they bury the egg? Had they *laid* the egg? Were they human, or dragon? Had he been buying flower parts and a book from a secret cabal of dragons?
"First things first!" Was there a point in hiding? No, the dragon had found them, and it was a baby. The flower-magic people would find him anywhere. "Gotta bring Tober in." He threw the package on the dining room table, leaving the door open as he wrestled Tober, still in the car seat, into the living room. The dragon followed, and Scott left the door open for it. Tober "wooed!" delighted, even as Scott buckled the car seat to the sofa leg. He locked the front door, noticing the dragon already curled around the car seat, Tober scratching behind its ears. He hoped the neighbors hadn't seen the dragon or him floating.
He checked on Tober and the dragon, glancing at the package as he went to the basement. There, on a shelf, was a playpen, stroller, and a bundle of straps, toddler reins. He untangled them, revealing a harness. He made Tober a snack, considering how to get him out of the car seat and into the harness while preventing the dragon from flying away with him. It was almost noon; Mel would be home in four hours. He was still floating, a dragon was in the living room with his son, who was latched to the sofa. The reins wouldn't change that. He put the snack down and sat in front of the package. The book might change everything.
Scott ripped open the packaging. Inside was an old, leather-bound book, in surprisingly good condition. The engraved leather cover was almost black from oil. He ran his finger over the engravings, trying to decipher them.
"Dad, I'm hungry and I want out of my car seat!"
He put the book down and got the reins. Tober wiggled, petting the dragon as Scott unbuckled the car seat and put the harness on him.
"Dad, why am I on a baby leash?"
"It's not a leash. I don't want the dragon to fly away with you."
Tober hopped out, hugging the purring dragon. "He wouldn't fly away with me. Well, not past the trees."
Soon, Tober was at the table, the reins strapped to Scott's wrist. Scott picked up the book again. The engravings were interwoven shapes on the front and back. He went to the window to see them better. In the sunlight, they were a dark brown with... flowers? No stems or leaves, just flowers of all shapes and sizes. There was a sunflower, a rose, a lily⦠all over the cover. There was no title. The first page was also untitled, a blotchy artistic print.
"Dad! Dad! DAD!! Do you hear me!?"
Scott flinched, looking at Tober. Half the cheese was gone, all the crackers, and he was eating the grapes.
"Dad, my dragon is hungry, and he won't eat the cheese, crackers, or grapes. He just spits them all out. He's hungry!"
The dragon looked patiently at Scott. Scott looked at the book cover an dit's engraved flowers.
"I know what to try." After strapping the reins to the table leg. He went outside and picked black-eyed Susans and dandelions. Soon, the dragon was sniffing and nibbling. Scott got Tober more juice and sat with the book. There was no table of contents or index. He flipped through. There were no chapter titles or no page numbers. Even the last page was full of print to the bottom.
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"Dad, Dad, we want to go play."
The food was gone, the flowers were stripped, and the juice was spilled. Scott unstrapped Tober and took him to his room, attaching the strap to his bedpost. He could hear Tober making engine noises. "You be the hill. I'll do the truck."
Back at the table, he slowly deciphered the first word: "DOSIERUNG." He searched it: "dosage." The book was in German.
"German! It's all in German!" Scott didn't lower his voice.
"What, Dad?" Tober called from upstairs.
"Nothing, everything is fine!"
He flipped through the book, faster than he should have. It was full of stylized print, all German. He noticed something else: no page numbers. No copyright date, publisher, or printing date.
Should he learn German? No, that wouldn't help in the next few hours. He could translate a word at a time. But he'd have to type each letter, word, sentence, and page. Maybe he should just learn German.
"Tober, you doing okay up there?"
"Dad, I need to go potty!"
Scott took Tober and the dragon to the bathroom. The dragon tried to drink from the toilet.
"No, you don't drink out of the toilet. It won't taste right," Tober said.
"Dad, I'm done. Can we watch a show?"
"I'll set you up in the living room."
Scott used Google Translate's camera feature to translate the first page. The translation was clunky, but readable.
"Here is Baron Francis Duberman's report on his investigation of the garden watering hole of the Bavarian Society of Hedge Wizards. Most of these reports are based on fifteen years of research, including eight years of experiments that culminated in the Baron's death when, out of the blue, he fell into the middle of a field from such a height that he penetrated more than a foot into the freshly plowed soil. Had the Baron not been engulfed in flames and nearly burned to ash, he would certainly have died in the fall."
'garden watering hole', Scott wondered if that was a basd translation. Google prioritized readability over accuracy. Scott translated the next section with Google:
"In 1548, I, Baron Francis Duberman, was overseeing the barley harvest when I witnessed a tragic and miraculous event. Several young men of the village were helping the older men mow the barley with scythes. They were competing to see who could cut the largest swath when a young man lost control of his scythe and impaled another young man working nearby. Soon, the alarm was raised, and all the workers gathered around the man. I was about to take action when I saw the scythe had entered one side of the young man and out the other. But even if my doctor had already arrived, I feared there wouldn't have been much he could do. The youngest of the youths was sent to the village and finally returned by helping an old village grandmother walk as quickly as possible. The young man carried a large woolen sack for her. The impaled young man was still breathing irregularly as he lay slowly bleeding to death in the field. The grandmother soon took several implements from her sack, including a mortar and pestle and a charcoal burner with a small copper pot. She sent one young man to fetch the water bucket they drank from while working. She sent another young man to the edge of the barley field, where a thorny thicket with wildflowers grew.Soon the two young men returned. She brought water to a boil and began to dissect the wildflower, crushing some of its parts. Shortly thereafter, the old village grandmother took the pot off the heat and added the crushed flower parts to the hot water. A moment later, she poured the water over a white woolen cloth and squeezed out most of the liquid. The old men were then instructed to hold the impaled young man down and pull out the scythe. The old village grandmother pressed the woolen packet containing the brewed flower paste into the open wound and pulled it out the other side of his abdomen. She then put away her utensils and was escorted back to the village. The young man, no longer impaled, lay motionless while all the other villagers returned to their scythes and the barley harvest. After watching her limp away, I turned to look at the wounded young man and realized he was no longer there. I looked around in panic, thinking he had vanished, when I noticed a young man in a bloodstained shirt harvesting barley with a scythe. I soon returned to my estate to begin my research into the traditional herbal medicine superstitions of the surrounding villages."
Scott was still translating when he heard a thud upstairs, followed by scratching. The dragon was trying to get out of the bedroom. The scratching stopped. He saw a shadow pass across the yard. He returned to translating. The next five pages contained ingredient ratios for base dosages.
Then came more thuds and crashes. Tober's bedroom door had been smashed. He heard something heavy bouncing down the stairs. He saw the small black dragon dash past and fly into the basement, after prying the door open.