Jordan’s River
Kat Heckenbach



Jordan paced around his office,

unable to concentrate. His students had stared at him curiously through all his morning classes, most likely because his eyelids drooped with exhaustion and his lecture had come in disconnected bursts. Not a wink of sleep had found him the night before, and his energy level plummeted at a steady rate all morning.

He stopped pacing and plopped into his chair. He wanted nothing more than to rest his head on the desktop, but if he allowed himself a nap, he’d most likely sleep through his afternoon classes. He would have to find another way to spend the next hour.

Maybe a walk in the forest would get his heart rate up enough to finish the day properly. He could even gather specimens for his research. Yes, that’s it. Or, at least it’s something. He slipped over to his lab and grabbed a basket and a pair of clippers before heading out.

~~~~

The cry came from the underbrush below a giant oak. Jordan set his basket on the ground and stepped cautiously closer. The forest rustled around him, distant clicks and caws piercing through the trees every now and then. But Jordan did his best to filter out the noise and focused on the tiny cry.

He’d heard nothing like it before. But he knew instinctively that it was a cry of pain. He scanned the area for signs of a predator—paw prints, claw marks, anything—but found only blood splashed atop the underbrush. None on the ground.

Jordan squinted into the shadowed bramble. Something took flight directly from this spot. He touched the congealing liquid. It was mixed with a slick, clear fluid. This isn’t blood from an injury…something has just given birth. That means…

He dropped to his knees and leaned over the brush. Thorns clawed Jordan’s fingers as he pried an opening in the tangled green mass. Despite the brightness of the day, there was not enough light filtering through the canopy for Jordan to make out what was squirming inside the brush. He berated himself for forgetting his gloves, and plunged his hands in deeper, groaning as the flesh tore on his forearms.

The tiny creature in his hands nearly slipped from his grasp as he pulled it from the brush. But he drew it close, cradling it in his arms as he lowered his hips to the ground.

The baby dragon’s chest jerked with ragged breaths. Jordan couldn’t tell through the caked-on afterbirth whether or not it was injured. He gently smeared away the red goo, revealing scaly skin and a ridged spine. He felt around for protruding or broken bones and found none. Yet the baby seemed to weaken even as Jordan held it in his arms. It barely reached from Jordan’s elbow halfway down his forearm. Had it been born early? Jordan couldn’t discern its species to know for sure.

Jordan turned the baby over to inspect its front. It opened its mouth, releasing only a feeble squeak, and then its chest fluttered and became still.

Jordan’s throat clenched and his eyes burned. This tiny, abandoned creature hadn’t had a chance. He stroked its forehead and ran his fingertip along the bumpy ridge that lined its spine. Dirt and leaves stuck in the congealed afterbirth, and Jordan began to methodically pick the leaves off and toss them on the ground.

He took a deep breath and rose to his feet, careful not to drop the still slippery baby. As he walked toward his basket, he heard a splash. He turned toward the sound. That’s right, there’s a stream over there.

He weaved his way through trees and brambles until he stepped out onto the bank of the stream. Lowering himself slowly, he knelt as close to the water as he could get. He held the baby tightly in one arm, and then scooped up water with the other hand and drizzled it over the baby dragon.

He didn’t know why it was so important to him to wash the baby dragon. But something tugged at his heart. The poor thing had been abandoned by his mother, buried in the underbrush for hours. Jordan felt a need to make it up to him.

Some of the blood loosened and washed away, but it was too thick in places to come off without dunking the dragon into the stream. Jordan sighed, and wiped a tear from his cheek. I’m sorry, little guy, but this is the only way to get you clean.

He held the lifeless body in his palms and lowered it into the water. The scientist in him took over, examining the dragon’s features through the crystal water as he worked the blood and grime away with his fingertips. The curious markings told him he could very well have been holding a completely unknown species.

His colleagues would have been thrilled by this discovery, eager to dissect the baby. They would treat it as emotionlessly as an engineer disassembling a machine to discover how it worked. But Jordan had never been able to approach his work that way, choosing instead to use plants for most of his experimentation.

It wasn’t as if he’d never dissected an animal. He’d done so many, many times. But he’d hated the sensation and reserved it for times when it was absolutely necessary. Many of his colleagues, however, felt it perfectly acceptable to kill indiscriminately under the guise of scientific study. And something about opening the side of this little creature felt terribly wrong.

He continued rubbing the baby, massaging its hide with loving fingers.

“I know you can’t feel this, little guy. But I need to get you clean. You may be the only one of your kind right now around here, if your momma didn’t make it. And judging by the trail she left, I’m sorry to say that’s probably so. She wouldn’t have left you if she wasn’t very, very hurt though…” Which meant it was only a matter of time before she was torn apart by scavengers looking for the rare taste of dragon meat.

Rivulets of tears ran down Jordan’s cheeks, but he did nothing to brush them away. They drip, dripped into the stream, merging with the water that washed over the baby.

“But don’t worry,” he continued as he blinked the moisture from his eyes, “I’m not going to let anyone get their scalpels in you. I’m just going to take a few pictures and find a nice spot in the forest where you can rest.”

Jordan began rubbing more vigorously as he realized he needed to get back to the university. His thumb slid across the baby’s neck, dislodging a clump of blood-encrusted dirt. A subtle movement grabbed his attention—a barely visible pulsing under the skin. Jordan rubbed the baby’s limbs and torso, willing the blood to flow. As its head lolled to the side, the pulsing became more distinct. Moments later, the baby’s head turned and its mouth opened.

Jordan yanked the baby dragon out of the water as its chest began to heave. Water spewed from the tiny mouth, followed by the same cry that had alerted Jordan of the creature’s presence in the underbrush.

It shouldn’t have been. The stream carried the same water it always had, with no known magical qualities. Jordan had done nothing but clean the baby, yet it squirmed with renewed life in his hands, bright eyes blinking. Its cry ceased as it found purchase and clung to Jordan’s arm. Jordan stroked its tiny back, stopping with a gasp when he spied the red marking on the dragon’s side.

Against tawny scales, just over the baby’s heart, a teardrop.

The dried trails of tears that ran down his own cheeks pulled his skin as he smiled. He tucked the baby into his arms more securely, and set off for the university.


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~~~~~ <~
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Kat Heckenbach is a freelance writer, homeschool mom, and magna cum laude graduate of the University of Tampa (Biology). Her short fiction ranges from light-hearted fantasy to dark and disturbing. You can enter her world and learn about her novels and other writing at www.findingangel.com and www.kat-findingangel.blogspot.com