Page 44 of The Loneliest Dragon at Christmas
Avery followed him, only a step behind. Jack glanced at him. Did Jack know what it was for a dragon to show someone their treasure, their hoard?
“Can I?” Jack reached out to a book. He waited for Avery to respond.
Holding his breath, Avery nodded. He wanted Jack to touch his treasure; he ached with the need.
Jack picked up a book. A corner of the cover had been torn off.
“Careful,” Avery whispered. But he needn’t have worried; Jack held the book with such care.
“I’m surprised.” Jack opened the book.
“Surprised? About what?” Avery stepped towards him. Then stepped back. He shouldn’t crowd. Or hover. That was rude. It was just that Avery was too eager for Jack to be impressed by his treasure.
“This book is…a little battered.” Jack tilted the book from side to side.
Avery’s fingers twitched. “Well…yes… But that doesn’t matter,” he said a little defensively. “It called to me.”
“Called to you?”
Avery nodded. “I saw it in this bookshop on the outskirts of town. And this book had been sitting on a pile that was for sale. The bookseller said he had trouble selling them because they were not in good condition. I picked this up, and I opened it.” He took the book from Jack’s hands with great care.Silly Tails for Werewolves. He opened it to the front page. “To my own little werewolves. Love, your mother and father,” Avery read the inscription.
Avery ran his fingers over the faded ink. “I imagined them, the little werewolves.” He smiled at Jack, whose brown eyes steadily watched him.
“Werewolf children are known to be very rambunctious. I imagined the children grabbing this book, carrying it to their mother, begging her to read it.” Avery huffed. “I imagined them fighting over the book, dropping it, not out of a lack of love, but out of an excess of exuberance and desire to hear the tales within.”
Avery paused. “This book was precious to someone, to a family. It meant something to them. It was a part of their lives and their story. It was loved,” Avery said intensely. “How many times did the mother and father read this book to their little werewolves?”
Avery looked at Jack. “This book shouldn’t be thrown away because it was damaged. It needed to be treasured and cared for. Do you see?” His words rushed together as he babbled. But it was so important that Jack saw it!
Jack stared at him, gaze pensive. “I see.”
Avery let out a breath. He felt a little light-headed. He licked his suddenly dry lips. “Do you want to read one?”
“You don’t mind?” Jack glanced around.
Avery tried to contain his eagerness. He immediately failed. “You can read whatever you like! Any book you are interested in, you can read it! Please!”
Jack smiled at him. Then he wandered through the shelves and piles, looking at the books. Avery tried not to loom beside him, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to see Jack’s every reaction, every twitch of facial muscles. He needed to know which books Jack liked and which interested him.
“There are so many.” Jack touched the spine of a book. “I don’t know how to choose.”
“I can choose one for you,” Avery offered, once again standing too close to Jack. He took a step back. “What would you like to read?”
Jack considered. “Something about dragons.”
Avery smiled. “I have lots of books on dragons.”
“What’s your favourite?”
Avery’s eyes widened. “I can’t choose a favourite!” That would be cruel to the other books! “I have many favourites.”
“All right.” Jack chuckled. “Choose one of your favourites, then.”
Avery stood perfectly still for a moment. Then he went in search. He picked up book after book. He bit his lip. He frowned. How could he choose a single book for Jack to read? It was too much pressure! He wanted it to be a good book, one he’d love, one that would dig into his soul and take root, sprout, grow, and flourish for all eternity.
Such an important decision could not be rushed.
He glanced at Jack, worried he’d be impatient. But he stared at Avery, seemingly content to just watch him search.
