“Hey, Matt, what’s that on your shoulder?

“Uh, it’s a dragoling.”

“A what??”

“A dragoling. It’s basically a dragon, but smaller. He’s already grown to full size.”

“Weird. Where’d you get it?”

“Egg.”

“Of course. And where’d you get the egg?”

“Gypsy.”

“You’re a wealth of information, my friend. And don’t call them gypsies. That’s derogatory.”

“My bad.”

“What are you going to do with the, uh, dragoling?”

“What do you think? It’s a pet.”

“Do you think it’s smart to just carry it around everywhere with you like this?”

“Why not? It’s loyal. It’s not likely to take off anywhere. The wings are only vestigial. It can’t actually fly.”

“I know, but I’m guessing it’s pretty rare. Won’t there be people who might want to take it off you?”

“They can try. The thing has a wicked fast bite, and its teeth are pretty sharp. I wouldn’t reach for it if it wasn’t already mine.”

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Thanks, mate. I think we’re good.”

“Think I could get one?”

“I don’t know. The gyps-, er, the Romany woman who sold me the egg is probably long gone by now. I was lucky to stumble across her booth at the fair in the first place.”

“The fair?”

“Yup. She was set up opposite the grandstand. But I’d bet she’s not there anymore.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just go see.”

“Good luck!”