The Care and Feeding of Griffins Read Free
Author: R. Lee Smith
Tags: Erótica, Literature & Fiction
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asked. She’d never seen any before. Not camping. Not even at the zoo. And only in the cartoons on TV, never on the nature channel.
“ They came to me, aye, long ago, and they’ve stayed. One day, perhaps, they will find a place they like better and leave me, mmm. But ‘tis a pretty wind that blows, whether in or out, and so I am contented. And thee? Would thee try to keep them if they meant no more to stay?”
“ No.” Taryn thought about it, watching the lady twist and shape her paper. “Dad says if you touch a butterfly’s wings, it’ll die. I think it’s like that for everything, it’s just the wings can be different things or in different places.”
The lady gave her a look, surprised and a little pleased, the same look Taryn ’s kindergarten teacher gave her when she brought her copy of The Hobbit in for Show and Tell and read the first chapter to the class. Then the lady laughed, a genuine witchy-cackle, although not a scary witch at all. She nodded, rocking back and forth and folding her paper. “Aye,” she said. “Aye. Just so.”
In the night-like cover of the lady ’s hair, the dragons were singing for sleep.
“ Taryn! Tar—Oh!”
Taryn ’s mom stood in the doorway of the library, the momentum of her ollie-ollie-oxen-free call plainly disrupted by the sight of Taryn and the stranger sitting together. She didn’t look alarmed, not on the surface anyway, but she did look awfully alert. She shifted the plastic bags with library stickers on them in a meaningful way, and Taryn hopped up at once to go and collect her books.
“ Ready to go?” Mom was still looking at the lady on the steps.
“ Mom, you’ve got to come see. She has dragons!”
“ Oh yes?” Taryn’s mom permitted herself to be towed in the direction of the stairs, growing more and more quietly alert the closer she came to the stranger. “Oh, look at that,” she said, not sounding in the least entranced.
Taryn, excited back to the point of giggles, watched several pencil-thin necks poke several scaly heads up through the drifts of the lady ’s black hair, but when she looked up, her mom’s eyes were on the lady’s lap.
“ Could I have one for my daughter?”
Taryn ’s breath physically caught in her chest. She shot a swift, disbelieving-and-wildly-hopeful upwards glance and then clasped her hands tightly together to keep from clutching. Her eyes fixed on the tiny little heads, at all those blinking little beady eyes; her ears burned as they listened for the word, ‘yes’. She would trade a hundred Snickers bars and a hundred bags of beads for one little dragon.
The lady on the stairs looked at Taryn with that strange, winky look. She held up a handful of paper dragons, one of every color, while the real ones sang in her hair. “For a pretty,” she said. “Aye, for a little something, for a teaser.”
Taryn ’s heart seemed frozen—not cold, not hurt, just numbed by confusion. She could see her mom holding out a dollar bill, and she could see the paper dragons in the lady’s hand, but if she moved her eyes just a little, she could see the real ones crowding and rustling and grumbling as they spilled all over the lady’s shoulders. Taryn looked up one last time, bewilderedly seeking some gleam of recognition in her mom’s face.
Nothing.
“Can I…” Taryn’s shoulders slumped a little. “May I have the blue one, please?”
The lady on the stairs flung her hands upwards, curling her fingers around her paper toys so that only one —the blue one—popped free and fluttered down. Taryn caught it easily and held it cupped, like a butterfly, letting her eyes rest longingly on the dragons, all the little dragons, startled into flight at the sudden movement. One of them buzzed right past her mom’s ear.
“ Thank you,” Taryn said. Adults thought politeness was very important. “Goodbye.”
The lady on the stairs hummed and
“ They came to me, aye, long ago, and they’ve stayed. One day, perhaps, they will find a place they like better and leave me, mmm. But ‘tis a pretty wind that blows, whether in or out, and so I am contented. And thee? Would thee try to keep them if they meant no more to stay?”
“ No.” Taryn thought about it, watching the lady twist and shape her paper. “Dad says if you touch a butterfly’s wings, it’ll die. I think it’s like that for everything, it’s just the wings can be different things or in different places.”
The lady gave her a look, surprised and a little pleased, the same look Taryn ’s kindergarten teacher gave her when she brought her copy of The Hobbit in for Show and Tell and read the first chapter to the class. Then the lady laughed, a genuine witchy-cackle, although not a scary witch at all. She nodded, rocking back and forth and folding her paper. “Aye,” she said. “Aye. Just so.”
In the night-like cover of the lady ’s hair, the dragons were singing for sleep.
“ Taryn! Tar—Oh!”
Taryn ’s mom stood in the doorway of the library, the momentum of her ollie-ollie-oxen-free call plainly disrupted by the sight of Taryn and the stranger sitting together. She didn’t look alarmed, not on the surface anyway, but she did look awfully alert. She shifted the plastic bags with library stickers on them in a meaningful way, and Taryn hopped up at once to go and collect her books.
“ Ready to go?” Mom was still looking at the lady on the steps.
“ Mom, you’ve got to come see. She has dragons!”
“ Oh yes?” Taryn’s mom permitted herself to be towed in the direction of the stairs, growing more and more quietly alert the closer she came to the stranger. “Oh, look at that,” she said, not sounding in the least entranced.
Taryn, excited back to the point of giggles, watched several pencil-thin necks poke several scaly heads up through the drifts of the lady ’s black hair, but when she looked up, her mom’s eyes were on the lady’s lap.
“ Could I have one for my daughter?”
Taryn ’s breath physically caught in her chest. She shot a swift, disbelieving-and-wildly-hopeful upwards glance and then clasped her hands tightly together to keep from clutching. Her eyes fixed on the tiny little heads, at all those blinking little beady eyes; her ears burned as they listened for the word, ‘yes’. She would trade a hundred Snickers bars and a hundred bags of beads for one little dragon.
The lady on the stairs looked at Taryn with that strange, winky look. She held up a handful of paper dragons, one of every color, while the real ones sang in her hair. “For a pretty,” she said. “Aye, for a little something, for a teaser.”
Taryn ’s heart seemed frozen—not cold, not hurt, just numbed by confusion. She could see her mom holding out a dollar bill, and she could see the paper dragons in the lady’s hand, but if she moved her eyes just a little, she could see the real ones crowding and rustling and grumbling as they spilled all over the lady’s shoulders. Taryn looked up one last time, bewilderedly seeking some gleam of recognition in her mom’s face.
Nothing.
“Can I…” Taryn’s shoulders slumped a little. “May I have the blue one, please?”
The lady on the stairs flung her hands upwards, curling her fingers around her paper toys so that only one —the blue one—popped free and fluttered down. Taryn caught it easily and held it cupped, like a butterfly, letting her eyes rest longingly on the dragons, all the little dragons, startled into flight at the sudden movement. One of them buzzed right past her mom’s ear.
“ Thank you,” Taryn said. Adults thought politeness was very important. “Goodbye.”
The lady on the stairs hummed and