Plumeria nods, and then she ducks down low, opens her mouth, and snaps it closed on one of the striped river fish.It takes some bobbing and shifting, but she manages to gobble the other three up as well, along with more sand than I’d personally care to eat, but I know nothing about dragon gastrointestinal systems.Hopefully that’s fine.
She grimaces a little, and then she burps, loudly.
The rest of us watch her intently, waiting to see what happens.
I can’t stop seeing Gaia’s puddle of neon-green puke.Without meaning to, I find myself praying that she’ll be okay.I pray for Candi too, that she’ll be healthy right along with Plumeria.I really want them all to be happy together—and I hope that all the dorky, fantasy-nerd semi-brights can bond their dragons and live happily ever after in the fantasy world they always wanted.
Will you be sad you can’t fly?Plumeria asks.Since you’ve always dreamed of being a dragon rider?
Candi’s smile is sweet as she shakes her head.“I was moving quickly in those dreams, but I might not have even been flying.”She bites her lip, and then she turns fully toward Plumeria.“I think I might have always been zooming through the water.I was just moving so fast, I couldn’t understand where I was.”
It’s been a few moments—does that mean we’re safe?
Before I can ask out loud, Plumeria begins writhing, her entire face contorted, her body collapsing inward, her claws spasming and digging large, long furrows in the sand.When she heaves forward, puking something back up, I struggle to suppress my tears.This isn’t about me.
But the puke—as nasty as it smells and looks—isn’t neon green.
It’s not green at all.
In fact, she vomited up an entire fish, the biggest one, and it looks only partially chewed.
That one was nasty,Plumeria says.But I think the others are fine.
What’s going on?Hyperion asks.Did it not work?
“I think that’s a Greenland shark,” Andre says.Thank goodness we’re surrounded by nerds.They’re exactly the kind of people who would know all about sharks.
“Care to elaborate?”I creep closer to the puke-fish.“Is the fact that it’s a Greenland shark meaningful in some way?”
“I’ve read about them,” he says.“When I was a kid, I was kind of obsessed with sharks.”
“You’re kidding.”Since LARPing and playing D&D in every spare second of life is also a little obsessive, I’m thinking that makes sense.
“All I ever asked for my mom to get me for Christmas or birthdays were books about sharks, and the Greenland shark is a really weird one.It’s actually the reason the first people in Iceland survived the winter.”
“How?”I ask.
“The Greenland shark’s basically the most toxic shark—maybe even fish—on the planet,” he says.“The Icelandic people had basically thrown a lot of them away because they made them sick, but the sharks sort of fermented for a few months, so when they were about to die, they realized the fermentation had somehow sucked all the toxins out and while it tasted nasty, it was edible.They still eat it today—I think it’s called hakarl or something.”
“Does that mean she threw it up...because it’s gross?”I ask.
He shrugs.
I feel fine otherwise,Plumeria says.
After consuming a second round of fish, she stays fine.No more sharks puked up, no neon-vomit at all.“I’m ready to call it,” I say.“It was just the stupid poison shark.Otherwise, our semi-bright pioneer, Candi, was a success.”
The water blessed start spreading the word.The lumpish, splotchy, slow-swimming fish with almost no pectoral fins arenotgood to eat.Avoid them.
“They’re the dog-poop of the fish world,” Andre says.
“But the semi-bright humans?”I can’t help my smile.“Definitely not dog poop.”
Not dog poop at all.Plumeria looks happy, her body practically curling around her newly ensnared human.
Within the next thirty minutes, all twenty-five of the remaining semi-brights, and all ten of the regular brights, are bonded.
Six strike blessed.
