It Hatches

It hatched on the third night and the noise was so loud Bryn was sure the whole village would wake up but somehow nobody did. The dragon was small. Smaller than a cat. It was the colour of a coal that still had a little fire left in it, dark with orange showing through the cracks, and it looked up at Bryn with eyes that were way too clever for something that was four minutes old. "Hi," Bryn whispered. He didnt know what else to say. "Im Bryn." The dragon tilted its head. And then a voice spoke, right inside his skull, not loud but very clear, and it said: I know. I have been listening to you sleep for three nights. You snore. Bryn fell off the bed. The dragon, he would later swear, laughed at him. It made a sound like a kettle starting to boil and its whole small body shook, and Bryn sat on the floor in the cold and started, helplessly, to laugh too.