Book One: Onnu and Pannu

Materials and Experiments

Pannu neither sought nor avoided guard duty, after that day. Onnu didn't mind doing the bulk of the work, as she was the larger dragon, but she was glad to know that he could, should she be unavailable. He had a slight limp for a couple of days, but they never found a wound. They decided it was more of a strain than anything.
   The shell he brought back was turned into everything from portable cutting boards to drinking vessels. Both dragons were willing to help carve it up, though the gryphons could help carve the bottom shell. Detail work, like carving and hollowing out chunks for cups, fell to the gargoyles, or anyone who'd fashioned sufficient tools. Gryphons hadn't developed the dexterity for it yet. Gargoyle claws were nearly as durable as those of a dragon, and small enough to fit inside. It was slow work, and the walls were quite thick, but they only had to hold water, at the moment.
   They'd also carved a bucket, so they didn't have to scoop up the water with their hands. It was the little things that made life grand; especially when you no longer looked human. A gryphon sipping awkwardly from a bowl felt much more human than they did lapping it up like a dog. It didn't matter that it looked more cumbersome, as long as they were happy.
   Clay and Firmen cracked the code of the natural materials enough to attempt pottery, which resulted in clay ovens they used to cook food. There was still the matter of transporting dragonfire, but at least they had a more civilized way to prepare food.
   They also made mixing bowls, and the shell had yielded a crude mortar and pestle. They dried and ground some of the seemingly ripe plants in their little garden, and Clay tasted the results himself. Firmen was more of an inventor than a taster, he said.
   Some of the more adventurous kin joined him in the tasting, at his request, as he pointed out that their palates were so very diverse.
   "What might taste vile to me could be divine to you," he said to the small crowd.
   And some powders were just plain awful, but were found to be medicinal in nature. For example, a pale pink bark that universally tasted like acid was experimentally smeared on a clay oven burn.
   "What've I got to lose?" Stan asked. "We've gotta know what's good fer what, eh? An' it's my own fault fer gettin' impatient fer tha' new bread o' yours."
   Nothing miraculous happened, of course, but it did soothe the inflammation. Stan carted off the bowl happily.
   "We really need to find permanent writing materials," Clay grumbled. "How else am I gonna remember what that was?"
   "We haven't named them yet, so what would you write?" asked Greta Pulver. The grey gargoyle had named herself based on her enjoyment of the mortar and pestle, and powders in general. Pulver was, of course, short for "pulverize". Nobody thought it was a good idea, but it was her name, so they let her have it.
   "I'd write down what kind of plant it was; y'know, describe it like they would've done before things had proper names."
   She acquiesced. "Well, I scratched it on a leaf and put it with the others, best we could. Maybe we'll get so used to using it by the time it dries to dust, we won't need it? Or we'll have more permanent writings by then."
   "Perhaps," he grumbled.
   The new bread turned out to be a flatbread like the rest, as they still hadn't discovered leavening agents. Nobody seemed to mind. They could, and did, pile meat and greens on it, making a crude taco.
   One of the dwarves, who named himself Dean Ginger, on account of his red hair and penchant for cooking, was trying out sauces. Now that he had proper mixing vessels, he took any plant Clay couldn't use yet, and some of the animal fats, and played around with them. He did have to set his bowls on top of the clay oven to render the fats, but nobody minded. The smells that came out of his experiments set mouths watering across the Bowl.
   The dragons, of course, could only smell and dream. There was never enough for more than a drop on their tongues, so they waited with strained patience for them to be perfected on a large scale.
   "That'll mean larger vessels to store them, and a way to keep the fats from solidifying again," Dean cautioned, when her wish was conveyed. "Otherwise, you might have to wait until there's enough fat and plant matter for one big batch. Couple o' croc-gar might do it, or one of them herdbeasts ye like to eat, but we haven't got a good crop of what I loosely call herbs yet. They're so finicky..."
   "Have you tried any of the local trees yet?" dragonfriend asked.
   The dragons looked to each other, and shook their heads.
   "I've been too afraid I'd like them too much. I didn't want to deforest an entire patch," she laughed.
   "I just... didn't think about it," he admitted. "I guess I forget how big we are. I mean, who on Earth-that-was would think 'hmm, let me eat that tree right quick?'"
   The kin nearby laughed, as did Onnu.
   Clay and Dean were adamant that they at least try, and since they hadn't gone for their daily hunt yet, they agreed to do just that.
   As usual, whoever felt up to hunting but didn't have wings tagged along, as did those who needed crafting supplies. No one had thought to ask another to gather materials for them, unless there was a delicate or time-consuming task that needed their attention at home. Onnu took note, and was proud of their little dragonhold for that.
   The tastiest looking trees were the rubber clover trees, so they landed at the edge and nibbled on one apiece. Clay had recommended them, from his own cuttings.
   "Just don't eat the bark. Tastes like alum if you get to the pink core," he'd warned.
   They were careful not to scrape the bark, but it was sort of inevitable at their size. Pannu had better luck, being smaller. Fortunately for Onnu, she rather enjoyed the sharp bite. The leaves were similar to alfalfa, but also clover? It was an odd mix, to be sure, and she wasn't sure how to feel about the mix of bitter, sweet, and green nuttiness. It was as though you'd put honey, walnuts, and peas in coffee, or a dry black tea.
   "I think I would like these separate," she decided. "I wonder if we could brew the bark in some water? It might make a good tea."
   He looked at her like she was crazy. She shrugged. More for her. Besides, they still hadn't crafted a cup large enough for her to drink out of. Perhaps they never would, but she could dream.