5 Try. Try not to swallow.

Jun 19, 2026

Chapter 14 *

(If you’re new here, don’t be confused by the chapter numbers. They jump about. Think of it as a way that Deleiri expresses her time passing by.)

THE CIRCUS DRAGON was rather a dull and simple-minded creature.

Had she been more self-aware, she would have realised her own limitations—being stuck in a cage and all that. She would not have volunteered to help Noah the human hatchling at all. Alas.

Nevertheless, if choosing to help a human child had come to her on impulse… Perhaps she did not have such monstrous a soul after all.

Or perhaps not.

The dragon found herself repeatedly considering ingesting the boy. She was starving. Her stomach was complaining so much and wringing itself silly on emptiness and air and saliva. Yet somehow, through sheer dumb luck and coincidence, while debating between satisfying her hunger versus keeping her claws and jaws innocent of murder and bloodshed, she stumbled upon her solution in the early hours of the dawn. How could she possibly smuggle the hatchling back to his mother in plain sight of her Keepers?

Easy. Swallow him. Partially, of course.

No, no. What she meant was, hide him in her mouth. No swallowing, I swear, the dragon swore, to no one in particular. She groaned, and her stomach growled again, begging for breakfast. For possibly the twentieth time that night, she stole a glance at the hatchling. He was about the height of her longest canine, and barely a mouthful—which was why she would wait for her proper meal—but that also meant that he was small enough to hide behind her teeth, and closing her mouth would not be a problem. No one would possibly guess she had a child hiding in there, surely. And if she swallowed the Noah-boy by accident, she would just vomit him out later. Hopefully the acid in her stomach was not too corrosive.. Ah, it should be fine, she was sure of it.

When the boy awoke, the dragon told him her plans. She opened her maw wide, gesturing with a single claw to show where he was to stand—behind her lower canine, on the right—and how she would be holding her tongue—just so, stuck to the roof of her mouth—so that he would have room to sit, and more importantly, so that there was a lesser chance of him being swallowed by accident.

The Noah-boy went completely pale.

“What’s the matter with you, now?” The Circus Dragon licked her chops. She could not help but think about food, after all that talk about having something that held warm, fresh blood in her mouth.

The boy had the decency to meet her gaze. “I’m fine,” he said finally, weakly. “It’s just… your breath stinks.”

The Circus Dragon snorted.

It was a poorly veiled lie, considering his wavering intent. But the dragon did not have the ability to pry truth from the mind. She vaguely wondered if he was afraid of her large pointed teeth? If he was more afraid of being chewed, or swallowed without the chewing?

She looked at him and shrugged. Or perhaps he was simply telling the truth? She did have rather bad breath, after all. She blamed it on the food that the Keepers fed her.

///

So far so good.

After wolfing down her rancid breakfast—this done with the Noah-boy safely tucked between her tail and her body so the Keepers would not see—the Circus Dragon lowered her head to the ground, and the hatchling gingerly crept into her mouth. As promised, she kept her tongue stuck to the roof so that there would be no accidents. Much to her annoyance, instead of receiving a word of appreciation from the boy for her troubles, all she perceived were wave after wave of intent filled with disgust and the need to get out, along with sounds of muffled gagging. She parted her jaws a little so that he could get a little more air. That seemed to help, as quite soon after his writhing calmed.

She decided to probe him with her mind. Very gently, of course, for she had heard that the elves had weak minds, and the humans even weaker. She did not want to break his mind by mistake.

Are you well? She nudged softly.

There was no reply for a long while. Then came a fumbling thought. The hatchling’s breathing grew rapid, his heart raced as he reached. And there it was! His mind was stretching outwards, towards her. The dragon grasped it.

WHOA—WHOAAAAAAAA!!

She resisted a huff of amusement. I will take it that—

I’m talking. I’m talking to a dragon. With my mind—this was interrupted by some internal screaming.

Now she did huff, aloud. Thankfully no one had heard. Her Keepers were still busy wheeling food portions about and distributing them to the other creatures. Only the gorillas and the bears and the various birds had yet to receive their meals, so she had just a little bit of time to elaborate on the next part of her plan.

Clearly, the Circus Dragon was coming up with these ideas on the fly. Mercifully, the boy was completely unaware of this.

My Keepers will take me out to a clearing in the woods, explained the dragon, to wash off this old paint from last night’s show. You will have to remain hidden till it is done. By Mid-morning Sun I would be led to my cage and left there—left there to rot, she wanted to say, but decided against it—at that point it would be safe for you to come out and look for your mother. She sensed his confusion. It is easier to navigate to the Hexagon tents from my cage in the fields, than it is from the Menangerie, she reassured him, and my mind can remain connected to yours, if you are not yet so far away. I will direct you as much as I can.

Uh… okay, said the boy. He still sounded lost.

That annoyed the Circus Dragon. How much more did the plan have to be broken down before he understood? How much more slowly did she have to speak?? She took in a deep breath, and calmed herself. Perhaps… Perhaps he was simple. So she asked, Are you simple? It was a brash, rude question, asked in a brash and rude manner. She did not know that, of course. She also did not know that the boy was just very young.

His thoughts stuttered for a bit. Simple? asked the Noah-boy.

Simple, in that you—

There came a loud screech as her cage doors were flung open. Five spears were held out by five Keepers, all pointed at her. The Circus Dragon eyed them disdainfully. They were tinged with poison and electricity, which meant that if she misbehaved, she would be forced into a rather uncomfortable sleep. It usually took four spears to do it. The fifth one was for insurance.

“Come, dragon,” snapped one of the Keepers.

She obeyed. She had little choice.

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