Chapter 9

"It keeps following me around, like it thinks I'm its mother," Miranda complained. "It reminds me of that baby duck you won at the County Fair when we were kids."

"Except that we're not gonna eat it when it gets bigger," snickered Murielle. "And besides, you are its mother!"

"Hey! I may've hatched it, but I'm not its mother!" Miranda protested. "That's just an animal! A friggin' lizard, with a friggin' lizard's intelligence!"

"It's not a lizard," Murielle sighed. "It's got wings, like me in my Pterodactyl form. And how d'ya know it's not intelligent? It may have a human form it simply hasn't morphed into yet. I'm dumber when I'm a Pterodactyl than when I'm a human – maybe it is, too."

"Well, I dunno when we're gonna find out," Miranda sighed as she reached down to scratch the colorful little lizard behind its ear knobs as a reward for finally catching up with them. It kak-kak-kaked its approval, stretching its neck and leaning affectionately into the palm of Miranda's hand.

"So, what good are you?" Miranda asked the nearly meter-long creature. "You can't fly, you can't shape-change, you can't even talk. She smiled sadly, watching as her hopes for the little creature – her only offspring, so far – continued to dwindle.

"Well, there's the advantage of having to walk everywhere we go, now," chuckled Murielle. "It's terrified of riding on my back, even when you hold it in your lap."

"Why don't you morph into a Pterodactyl and stretch your wings?" Miranda suggested. "Maybe it'll give Puff, here, an idea or two."

"So it's 'Puff', now, is it?" Murielle smirked. "Last week it was Mnenmoth, like in those Dragon Rider books you used to read all the time."

"Well, I'll admit, I don't know what to name it," Miranda sighed. "I can't tell if it's gonna be male or female, or maybe something else entirely." She stopped speaking as Murielle stretched high overhead, luxuriating in her oversized, giant Pterodactyl form.

"Coooo," the little dragon chirped, mesmerized by Murielle's huge wingspan. 'Puff' wriggled in obvious delight and eagerly flapped its wings, sending up a small zither of dust in its excitement. In a sudden flurry of wild flapping motions, Puff managed to get all four feet of its gangly body off the ground for a few seconds.

Miranda cried out delightedly, "Oh, look! She's flying!" startling the sinuous creature into a tumbling though harmless crash landing.

Puff squirmed upright, quickly untangling itself – legs, wings and long, narrow torso – and spat out a series of annoyed barks at Miranda, who almost fell over backwards from laughing so hard. This annoyed little 'Puff' so much that he/she/it bit Murielle's big toe.

'Ow! Hey, you little monster!' Murielle thought laughingly at her infant son or daughter. 'Don't bite the toe of the beast who feeds you!'

'Feed me!' the thought blasted through both sisters' minds, startling them into immediate silence.

'It talks/It's telepathic!' both girls thought at the same time.

'Feed Murida! Murida wants food!'

"What in the world..." Miranda muttered out loud.

"Who named it Murida?" Murielle asked.

'Who are you?' they asked, centering their thoughts at the obviously intelligent creature that had clawed its way out of Miranda's egg a week earlier.

The miniature dragon blinked up at the girls, its expression clearly stating just exactly how stupid it thought they were. Its mental voice, however, remained silent. For the moment, anyway...

'What? Miranda want Murida to say Ma-ma?'

"Whoa..." Murielle muttered, and sat straight down, not even bothering to find a rock to sit on.

"Well," Miranda replied, more willing to talk with the beast that had hatched from the egg she gave birth to (she still wasn't willing to admit that this 'creature' was her son or daughter), though her voice shook with the effort she made, "I am ... I suppose, so perhaps you may call me that."

Mother and daughter stood, staring at each other for a moment, then Miranda added, since it was obvious they weren't related, "Or not," with a shrug of her shoulders. "Your choice."

'Murida see in Miranda think about small, yellow feather thing with funny voice, 'Are you my Mama?' Is talking to small, gray rodent. Not real. Did not happen?'

"No," Miranda replied out loud, "it was a cartoon – a drawing someone made to amuse small children ... younglings, like yourself."

'Murida is youngling?'

"Yes," Miranda replied, crouching down as though to pounce, although she was only trying to look at her unusual offspring more intently, "You are a young ... whatever..." she shuddered with revulsion, then brought herself back under control and continued, "and that makes you a youngling."

'Youngling would like food. Is proper asking Miranda before?'

"I think it's hungry," Murielle snorted, trying to keep a straight face. She'd already spent several days trying to convince her twin that this creature was her responsibility. Murielle wanted nothing to do with that 'hatched thing' after she was convinced to make an attempt at breast-feeding on that first day, only to have that friggin' monster chomp off a nipple.

"What do you suppose it eats?" Miranda turned toward Murielle and spat the question at her.

"Likely, it'd be perfectly happy to eat either one of us," snickered Murielle. "Do you see those teeth? It's obviously a carnivore."

'Murida ask first. Not eat without allowed.'

"Not eat what, exactly?" Miranda asked the creature who called itself Murida. "And how did you come by the name Murida?"

'Murida call... ' It seemed to have trouble with the concept, so it simply projected an image of itself, as seen by Miranda. 'Miranda call Muri, and Muri call 'duh'. Murida thinks Muri not happy with 'duh'.'

"Is that what Murielle thinks of me?" asked Miranda. "I'm a 'Duh'?"

'Murida not know. Murida sees... ' the little dragon projected an image of its first remembered occurrence:

"Sorry," Murielle smirked, not bothering to keep her laughter concealed. "But you had that one coming! Besides, I thought you liked having your tit bit off."