Dragonsong by Anne McCaffrey

she’d actually done what she remembered, she crept cautiously to the bluff edge. The beach was completely underwater. The sandy wallow where the fire lizard eggs had baked was being tideswept smooth. The rubble that had gone over the edge with her had been absorbed or washed away. When the tide retreated, all evidence of her energies to save herself and the clutch would be obliterated. She could see the protuberance of rock down which the queen had rolled her eggs but not a sign of a fire lizard. The waves crashed with firm intent against the Dragon Stones when she gazed out to sea, but no bright motes of color flitted against the somber crags.
    Menolly felt her cheek. The fire lizard’s scratch was crusted with dried blood and sand.
    ‘So it did happen!’
    However did the little queen know I could help her? No-one had ever suggested that fire lizards were stupid. Certainly they’d been smart enough for endless Turns to evade every trap and snare laid to catch them. The creatures were so clever, indeed, that there was a good deal of doubt about their existence, except as figures of overactive imaginations. However, enough trustworthy men had actually seen the creatures, at a distance, like her brother Alemi when he’d spotted some about the Dragon Stones, that most people did accept their existence as fact.
    Menolly could have sworn that the little queen had understood her. How else could Menolly have helped her? That proved how smart the little beast was. Smart enough certainly to avoid the boys who tried to capture them … Menolly was appalled. Capture a fire lizard? Pen it up? Not, Menolly supposed with relief, that the creature would stay caught long. It only had to pop
between
.
    Now why hadn’t the little queen just gone
between
with her eggs, instead of arduously transporting them one by one? Oh, yes,
between
was the coldest place known. And cold would do the eggs harm. At least it did dragon eggs harm. Would the clutch be all right now in the cold cavern? Hmmm. Menolly peered below. Well, if the queen had as much sense as she’d already shown, she’d get all her followers to come lie on the eggs and keep them warm until they did hatch.
    Menolly turned her pouch inside out, hoping for some crumbs. She was still hungry. She’d find enough early fruits and some of the succulent reeds to eat, but she was curiously loath to leave the bluff. Though it was unlikely that the queen, now her need was past, would reappear.
    Menolly rose finally and found herself stiff from the unaccustomed exercise. Her hand ached in a dull way, and the long scar was red and slightly swollen. But, as Menolly flexed her fingers, it seemed that the hand opened more easily. Yes, it did. She could almost extend the fingers completely. It hurt, but it was a stretchy-hurt. Could she open her hand enough to play again? She folded her fingers as if to chord. That hurt, but again, it was a stretchy-hurt. Maybe if she worked her hand a lot more … She had been favoring it until today when she hadn’t given it a thought. She’d used it to climb and carry and everything.
    ‘Well, you did me a favor, too, little queen,’ Menolly called, speaking into the breeze and waving her hands high. ‘See? My hand is better.’
    There was no answering chirp or sound, but the soft whistle of the seaborne breeze and the lapping of the waves against the bluff. Yet Menolly liked to think that her words had been heard. She turned inland, feeling considerably relieved and rather pleased with the morning’s work.
    She’d have to scoot now and gather what she could of greens and early berries. No point in trying for spiderclaws with the tide so high.

Chapter 5
    Oh, Tongue, give sound to joy and sing
    Of hope and promise on dragonwing
.
    NO-ONE, AS USUAL , noticed Menolly when she got back to the Hold. Dutifully she saw the harbormaster and told him about the tides.
    ‘Don’t you go so far, girl,’ he told her kindly. ‘Thread’s due any day now, you