Hi folks! If you’re new here, this is the 200 Word Novel, where I’m writing a book 200 words at a time, Monday through Friday. Each Friday I post the last week’s progress, raw and largely unedited, along with some reflections on the past week’s writing. If you’re here primarily to read the story, you can find the start of the novel here. If you’re mostly interested in the weekly introspection on writing (and occasional life update), you can find that down below.
For a long time, Tavi didn’t reply. “That elder was an idiot,” he finally said, looking away.
Bria solemnly walked up to him, looked deep into his eyes—then punched him hard on the shoulder.
“Ow! what’s the big idea—”
“You have one tell when you’re pulling my tail and you feel slightly bad about it,” Bria said. “Just the one.”
Tavi sputtered for a moment, then bit his lip. “Are you gonna tell me what it is?”
“Tavi Silver. If I give away my one advantage, how could I ever guarantee even this smallest shred of honesty from you ever again?”
“…you have far more than one advantage over me,” Tavi said quietly.
The keening from the dragonling saved Bria the impossibility of coming up with a witty retort. She turned towards the small creature, hiding the blush on her cheeks. That effortless and constant shifting from jokes to seriousness to unabashed vulnerability would be the end of her…
Instead of thinking on all that, Bria held out a paw. The dragonling nuzzled into it softly as it did before. Beside her, Bria heard Tavi let out an incredulous breath. “It already trusts you,” he murmured.
“So how do we find your mother?” Bria asked, looking into its strange, gem colored eyes. The dragonling cocked its head at the words. Bria didn’t know much about dragons, but she remembered some folk wisdom (or was it a children’s tale?) about their cleverness, and how quickly their young became full fledged drakes, capable of speech and understanding. Still, she hardly expected an answer from this new hatchling.
“I read that dragons have an inherent ability to find their way back to their dens,” Tavi said. “Maybe we just need to follow where it leads.”
“It’s literally just hatched out of a crate on a cart,” Bria said. “It seems just as likely it thinks this is its nest.”
“It’s not a bird, Bria, it doesn’t nest,” Tavi said.
“What does it do then?”
“It roosts,” Tavi answered. Bria suppressed a smile (and an urge to call Tavi out on mincing words himself.) “Still… you have a good point. We don’t know how this crate ended up on its way to the village, or where it got delivered from in the first place.” A hopeful expression came across his face. “But the merchants would know! This was their crate, right? And then the little guy is their problem!”
“Or maybe they know, and that is the problem,” Bria said, a realization dawning on her. “We don’t know why they were transporting a dragon egg. Did they even know what’s in the crate? Or did they know full well, because they themselves had taken it from a nest—sorry, from a dragon’s den?”
Tavi groaned. “This is why you don’t go volunteering for trouble, Bria. No matter how well intended.”
“A Scurryer does not shy away from trouble, but instead asks how they can best deliver **results,” Bria recited.
Tavi shook his head. “You’re more than just a Scurryer, Bria. You mustn’t define yourself by your work. Or let your work define you.”
“You’re just allergic to all work,” Bria said.
“I’m averse to taking on more work than necessary,” Tavi corrected. “And this whole thing feels wildly unnecessary.”
“Some of the best things in life are quite unnecessary,” Bria replied. The little dragonling chirped, as if in agreement.
Tavi looked at the dragonling, looked at Bria, took a deep inhale, then let out a huff of breath through his nose. The hot air swirled around him as he stood up to full height. “Very well then. To the village, and the merchants!” He took on a faux noble tone. “Whether their intents be altruistic or malicious, they’re sure to have further answers.”
“And what if just bringing it through the village invites disaster?” Bria asked, adapting the same voice and demeanor.
“Then we run away really, really fast,” Tavi said. “Besides, we’ve got our smell all over it at this point. If mama isn’t gonna wait for us to explain ourselves, we’re all toast anyway.” He squinted at the dragonling. “So you gotta put in a good word for us, alright?” The dragon turned a quizzical eye to Tavi, and let out another little chirrup.
“We should give it a name,” Bria kneeled down to get a closer look. “Just for as long as he’s with us.”
The dragon matched Bria’s gaze. Then, in a crystal clear, melodic voice, it said, “Chiara.
Chapter 6
Bria wiped the sweat from her brow as they crested the hill. Before them, the edge of the village sprawled out across the landscape, nestled among the gentle, snow-covered slopes, just as they had left it earlier that day. The warm glow of lanterns and cozy windows lit by fireplaces within shone like a welcoming beacon, and Bria sighed a breath of relief at getting to glide the sled down for the rest of the way.
Next to her, Tavi stretched, surveying the path ahead. Puffs of hot breath billowed around him as he pulled his coat closer. Despite their exertion, the temperature had dropped further as night had fallen, and Bria noted the slight shiver run down his back. A yearning for a warm hearth and maybe some hot soup grew in Bria’s chest.
The dragonling—or rather, Chiara—popped their head up from under the tarp, nose flaring with excitement in the air. Bria smiled. One member of the party remained undeterred by the cold, at least.
Since uttering their name, the dragonling had seemed to pick up on several other words in just the few hours they’ve traveled together. “Meat” (but not “food”, much to Tavi’s chagrin), for one. A useful word as they devoured an entire crate of cured meats Tavi had recovered from the campsite. (”We’ll pay the merchants back for that,” Bria had said as they watched Chiara go to town. “The merchants don’t need to know we ever found it,” Tavi replied, and pushed on before Bria could argue.)
Bria knew that Chiara was still dangerous—but in the way a fledgling riding cricket could kick and wound an full grown person. Bria felt no malice from those gem colored eyes, and the vast intelligence and dizzying speed of development built her confidence that she could reason with Chiara. At the same time, she knew Tavi was also right: Chiara was not a pet ladybug or firefly, easily fed and kept safe and happy. They were a lost child, born to parents of unknown disposition, but who Tavi assured Bria would have the means and ability to track down their stolen young with a vengeance.
For Tavi’s part, now that they seem embroiled in this whole sequence of events, he seemed even more focused and insistent than Bria on helping Chiara find its way home. ”You got your scent all over it, Bria, and I’d rather try to get the chance to explain that we weren’t the kidnappers than just wake up engulfed in vengeful dragonfire one day,” he had said as they trudged through the snow, pushing the cart with a napping Chiara on it.
Gouts of dragonfire was a future them problem. Right now, they had to figure out how to get back into town with an overeager dragonling squirming to get out from under its tarp.
🐭
Regularity is Hard
It’s funny how just one week is enough to throw off two months of habit.
This week, I wrote somewhat unevenly. We got to 1200 words by the end, but there were skipped days alongside days of more than 200 words.
The one thing I’ve found helps the most: starting my day by “paying myself first.” That is, on days where I write my 200 words as the first thing I do when I sit down at my desk, I’m most likely to succeed at hitting and exceeding my goals. I often catch myself thinking, “I’ll write it at lunch,” or “I’ll write it when I’m done with everything.” But after a long day, the “but I’m tired” voice is often much louder than the “it’s just 200 words” voice.
In a world where obligations demand our attention, energy, and time, it feels good to have the minor rebellion of honoring our own projects before giving up our productivity to the mechanisms and demands of capitalism. 🫡
An Unexpected Find
Today I came across an old play of mine that I had literally forgotten I wrote.
And it was… good.
It’s funny how writing can be time capsules. I remember distinctly the stew of inspirations and feelings that led me to write that play. It’s funny how many of the themes are still obsessions of mine to this day, and what things have waned in their urgency and fire.
I’m excited to finish this book months from now and get to experience the time travel of remembering the early chapters, inspirations, and discovery along the way. 💙