Chapter Text
The dragon hatched months before anyone thought to keep watch on the egg, and by the time Sara swung through the furnace room on her way home, the poor creature was nearly dead.
Sara heard a sound like a kitten mewing. A baby cat would not be the most unusual thing she had ever found in the palace.
“Oh,” she said, when she saw the hatchling. “Oh, my.”
“Merhaba,” said the tiny voice. “Please help me.”
Sara had a pouch of food in the pocket of her ferace, though her children were more or less grown out of hunger emergencies. The nuts and dried fruit were hardly what she imagined newly hatched dragons eating, but this baby wasn’t a fussy eater. Not at all.
“Teşekkür ederim,” the dragon said politely.
“You’re welcome,” Sara said. “But you must be hungry still. Can you walk to the kitchens?”
“I don’t think so. Please, will you carry me? And tell me your name?”
“I am Sara,” she said, scooping up the dragon. “Do you have a name?”
“Sara Hatun, I do not.”
The cooks were shocked, of course, but they handed over a bowl of raw meat without argument. The appetites of dragons were legendary—as were their teeth and claws.
When the bowl was empty, Sara tucked the hatchling under her ferace, close to the heat of her body.
“Sara Hatun, will you give me a name?” it said drowsily.
“Certainly, my dear. I shall think on that while you sleep. Names are important.”
There was, of course, something else important to consider: the eunuchs would find the eggshells and the guards would come looking. She should go directly to the aviators’ camp and surrender the dragon to those who could best care for it. But it was so very small.
Sarah stood outside the palace, torn. If she brought this baby home, she might endanger her family. What if armed men came searching for the missing dragon? That thought decided her, and she turned toward the encampment.