Drabble: Once A Healer...
by:
Flaming Trails

Knock knock knock. “Hello?” Knock knock. “E-excuse me, please…”

Lisa groaned as she dragged herself out of bed, blinking the sleep from her eyes. Ugh, what was the use of being one of the highest-ranking and most respected dragon-ladies in the Vale if you couldn’t sleep late? You’d think people would know not to bother me if the Tower isn’t set on Daylight! Yawning, she swayed her way to the front door. “Yes, hello, what is it?”

The pale young man before her shifted from foot to foot, clutching a blanket-wrapped bundle tightly in his arms. “I am s-sorry to disturb you so early,” he murmured, voice quiet and shy. “It’s just – I’ve been asking a-around, and everyone says you’re the best healer in this group of islands…”

Well, that was better than coffee for waking her up. Lisa straightened, suddenly all business. “What kind of dragon, and what are the symptoms?”

Something chirruped sadly from the blanket. The man uncovered it to reveal the head of a baby Polarian dragon – though this one looked rather more green than blue. “His name’s Galileo,” the man reported. “He’s been with us about a fortnight, living in our Hibernation Cave until we can upgrade the Galaxy islands again. We’ve made sure he and Grimes – he’s our second Dungeon – have had plenty of toys and sunlight and fresh air, and he seemed happy enough up until yesterday night. Supper is always dragon fruit, and for some reason he wouldn’t touch it. We thought p-perhaps he just had an upset tummy, or was a bit tired of the same thing, but then he refused breakfast too…” The man peered at her with anxious brown eyes. “Please t-tell me this isn’t anything too serious.”

Lisa gave him a reassuring smile. Poor guy – he was so nervous. But then again, she would be too in his place. “It probably isn’t,” she said, taking the little dragon and stroking his head. He chirruped again and stuck his nose in the folds of his bundle. “I won’t know for sure until I’ve properly examined him, of course, but dragons are pretty tough cookies. Come on in and we’ll see if we can’t get this little guy feeling better.” She stepped out of the doorway so her visitor could get inside. “What’s your name, anyway?”

The man smiled, clearly soothed by her words. “Victor. Victor Van Dort.”

The End