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Klipp brings Ragnar to a doctor, but that doctor isn't what Ragnar expected.
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Quartz Quarry was a small town densely packed with buildings either carved from the cave walls or constructed from large stones. Overhead was a massive hole, a naval to the world above. From the look of the sky, it seemed to be somewhere in the mid to late afternoon. Lanterns and oil streetlamps lined the dusty paths of town. Most of the dragons they passed were varying shades of brown, bustling to and fro through the streets, often with carts and crates of emerald crystals.
Large tunnels snaked out from the center, most of which were accompanied by mine cart tracks. However, two much larger tunnels held much larger gauge tracks for proper trains. The central square itself was split into two levels. The upper level carried shops and stands full of stones, gear, and other practical use items while the lower level carried agricultural items like meat, fruits, and vegetables.
Klipp led Ragnar over to a small building with a red heart above the doorway. Doorway was an overstatement as there was no door. None of the buildings had doors. Most buildings had curtains.
The two stepped into the clinic, a small chime noting the dragons’ presence. A man’s voice greeted them. “Hello!” He chimed. His voice was higher pitched than either of the dragons’ voices. Although, as dragons, their voices were naturally lower and more resonant than smaller sentient creatures like humans.
The man stepped out from a curtained-off area he had been working behind. He stumbled out, nearly tripping on the long curtain. “Hi, there!” he called. He was a human with a doctor’s coat and a turtleneck jumper that clung to his strong, yet slender arms. They looked slimming on him. “What can I do for you two?”
Klipp chimed in. “Yes, my new friend here took a tumble and tore up his wing” He motioned to the red dragon. The webbing had swollen and turned to a sickly pink color. “I think he might’ve sprained something too. He’s been limping all the way here.” He motioned for Ragnar to step forward who limped forward on his bruised legs.
“Hi, I’m Ragnar.” He waved to the doctor, a curious look in his eyes. He carefully spread his injured wing so that the doctor could see it better. Crusty flakes of dried blood flittered to the floor.
The doctor stepped closer. “Hmmm…That is a nasty tear, especially for a Wind hybrid like you.” He paused as he looked around the office. The clinic itself had two curtained spaces like a hospital room. It also had a large shelf full of mysterious liquids, pastes, and tablets. On one side of the room was a stone counter with curtained shelves, likely meant for individual clients. “You did well to bring him to the Quarry Infirmary. We may be small but we’re the best around.” The man cracked a tired smile. He stepped toward the second curtained area and peeled it back, revealing a large stone bed with a suspiciously rock-like pillow.
“Just give me a moment.” The doctor popped his head into the other curtained room and whispered something to the patient inside. An aching moan echoed back in reply. “I’ll get back to you soon.” The doctor quickly popped back out. “Where were we?
“My wing?” Ragnar asked.
“Right, take a seat on the bed and we’ll get started. Klipp, could you give him a hand?” Klipp nodded and helped Ragnar to the bed. He stepped back so the doctor could work. “How did you tear up your wing so bad?” He began rummaging through some of the solutions on the nearby shelf.
“I tripped and fell down. Some jagged rocks tore me up as I rolled down the slope. I stopped when I slammed into a stalagmite and passed out.”
The doctor hummed in thought. “Okay…Klipp?” He turned to the burly dragon. “Did you wash the wounds out, so they won’t get infected?”
The large dragon nervously rubbed his arm. “Uh, no? I just brought him here straight away.”
The doctor sighed. “I’ll have to disinfect all of it myself.” He found a bottle of paste from one of the shelves and grabbed a tongue depressor. “You can go, I’ll fix him up, but it’ll take a while. Come back in a couple of hours to check up on him.” He turned to the bruised dragon. “He looks disorientated.”
“Doc? I need to tell you something in private first.” The dragon wrapped a massive arm around the man’s shoulder.
“Sure.”
They walked out of the infirmary and huddled by the entrance, speaking in hushed tones. “That new guy, doc. He’s different—and I don’t mean because he’s a hybrid. He says he used to be human, from the same dimension you came from it seems! He’s experienced a full species transformation.” He scratched behind his head, “I don’t really know how or why though.”
The doctor’s eyes widened. “Earth! Really?”
Klipp nodded, “He was rambling about tourism, Stonehenge, and something called a UK?”
“That’s the name of a country on Earth, Stonehenge is just a landmark there.”
“Oh,”
“I’ll talk to him about it, okay? Maybe this is my chance to finally make my way back home…to my family.”
Klipp nodded, “I’ll see you later then.”
The dragon and doctor parted ways. He re-entered the infirmary and sat on a stool next to Ragnar. “I’m sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Dr. Patterson.” He gestured to himself.
“I’m Ragnar.”
“Nice to meet you, Ragnar.” He gestured to the paste. “This is a disinfectant. It’s going to sting. Once I’ve applied the paste, lie down on your stomach, okay? I’m going to have to check on my other patient here in a minute.” Ragnar nodded as Dr. Patterson reached for the disinfectant.
As the doctor touched the inflamed webbing, Ragnar’s wing folded in recoil. “Ow!” He hissed.
“Keep it down, please!” Patterson hissed back. “My other patient needs the quiet right now.” He reached for a bone-shaped rubber toy. “If it helps, bite down on this.”
“I’m not a dog.”
“I know that, but this is the only thing I have for you to bite down on that won’t instantly break when you start chomping on it.”
The injured dragon grumbled, “fine.”
Dr. Patterson sighed. “Alright, please open up your wing so I can apply the disinfectant.” Ragnar sighed and reopened his wing.
Patterson quickly scooped the paste onto the flat side of the tongue depressor and applied the disinfectant to the wound. When he was done, he tossed the wooden stick into a garbage pail. The man grunted as he stood, his aging joints ached and popped as he did so. He grabbed the slobbery rubber toy and dropped it into a bin before returning the disinfectant to its place and checking in on his other patient.
Behind the curtain was another Ground dragon, this one was less burly than Klipp, but he certainly wasn’t scrawny. He had a broad and sturdy frame, maintaining a similar boulder-like shape that Klipp sported. Dr. Patterson fed him a spoonful of medicine before the dragon drifted off into sleep.
Dr. Patterson closed the curtain again and flipped the sign in the window to closed. He returned to Ragnar and took a seat where he could eye the entrance to his establishment.
The doctor began to rummage through a few of the things in the nearby drawer, eventually pulling out a needle and thread. In a hushed voice, “I’m going to stitch up this hole in your wing. I don’t think you’ll be able to fly for a week or two, but the stitches get to come out in just a few days.” He smiled.
He leaned over Ragnar’s outstretched wing. “I’m going to start making conversation with you to distract you from the pain, okay?” Ragnar nodded. He grimaced and bit down on the rubber bone as the doctor began sewing up the wound. “I hear you’re from Earth.” He said flatly as the needle continued to glide the webbing.
“Ah! Yeah, uh, I was vacationing in the UK during the summer, and something brought me here to wherever this place is.” Ragnar gestured his hands around the room.
“Quartz Quarry.”
“Yeah, sure. But I can’t remember what happened after I stopped to see the rocks at Stonehenge.”
“Uh-huh. I bet you didn’t know that Stonehenge is one of Earth’s ‘portal stations.’” He rolled his eyes. There are a few scattered around the globe, but they all lead to the space between worlds, the Dream World. I won’t bore you with too many details right now, but what’s REALLY fascinating to me is how you became a dragon.” He looked up from his work at the dragon’s face.
“Dude, all I know is that I woke up by a pool of water and found out I was a dragon.” His face contorted into a mixture of confusion and abject fear. “How is this even possible!” He thrust his arms towards the ground and motioned over his whole body. “I mean, I thought dragons were a myth, and here I am a bipedal dragon in a world full of them!” Tears began to well in his eyes. “Why would I be left a fate like this! I’m ripped from my home and stripped of my humanity. I don’t have a clue how or why I’m here…”
Dr. Patterson tied off the end of the thread and put the remaining spool back into the drawer. He rummaged around and plucked out a roll of gauze, a small bottle of an unknown liquid, and a cotton ball.
The man sighed and placed a hand on Ragnar’s shoulder. “Believe me. I know what it’s like to be far from home-especially in ways I never even dreamed of.” He sighed as he knelt by Ragnar’s damp snout. “I also came from Earth. It’s a separate story for another time, but I’ve been stuck in this world for a long time now, with no way to get anywhere without a little help. All modes of transportation and traversal here have been designed for dragons, not humans. With you here, we might be able to get back home!”
Ragnar sat up. “And what? Be welcomed back like some kind of lost child? No one would believe we were lost in another world. Everyone would run scared of me or-or shoot me on sight.” The tears started to flow again.
Dr. Patterson patted him on the back. “I know a town that might be helpful for us. The town of Dracaeli is home to a portal station. Nearly every town across the multiverse that’s built around one of them has what’s known as an Animal Jeweler. The one in Dracaeli should be able to help you with your dragon problems.”
Ragnar sniffled. “Really?” He asked, his eyes puffy and red.
“Really.” The doctor replied. He motioned to the items he had grabbed from the drawer. I’m going to wrap up your limping leg after I’ve applied this polish to your scratched scales.” He grabbed the bottle and cotton ball and started to wipe down the visibly scratched and battered scales.
“Why do my scales need polishing?” Ragnar sniffled.
“It’s nearly the end of the Summer. Every dragon molts their scales at the end of each season and grows new ones. Unlike the animals on Earth, dragons molt frequently just to keep up with Draconis’… turbulent environments. The end of the season is only a few weeks away and that means that having scales in great condition leads to a better price at the interdimensional markets.”
“Why is that important?”
“Well, I doubt that you have any currency that’ll be good in other dimensions let alone this one.” He paused a moment. “But! I’ll give you a temporary job here at the clinic until your wing is healed. It’ll give you some money to work with and your labor can also cover the bulk of your medical expenses.” He smirked.
Ragnar sighed. “Okay.” He paused as he thought about everything that was just thrown at him. “Wait! Where am I going to stay? Am I going to be okay without my scales?”
He sighed again, “Klipp will give you a room. He owes me a favor anyway. And, you’ll be fine without scales so long as you don’t go flying or roughhousing too much. That’s why the very end of each season is bad for business. On the bright side, business in the weeks leading into and coming out of it are great! I can sell scale polish and balms for protecting your hides while all of you molt.” He beamed.
Soon Dr. Patterson had finished polishing the worn scales and started wrapping the sprained leg in a tight layer of gauze. “I’m going to give you a mild sedative. It’ll help you heal faster. When you wake up, you’ll head out with Klipp and do some shopping, so you’ll be prepared to help me tomorrow.” He smiled.
Patterson grabbed the same bottle of sleeping medication he had given to the other dragon and fed Ragnar a spoonful. A few seconds later, Ragnar was passed out on the stone bed, deep in a dreamless sleep.
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Chapter 2: The Chatty Doctor
Written by: Ryker-Wolf
Quartz Quarry was a small town densely packed with buildings either carved from the cave walls or constructed from large stones. Overhead was a massive hole, a naval to the world above. From the look of the sky, it seemed to be somewhere in the mid to late afternoon. Lanterns and oil streetlamps lined the dusty paths of town. Most of the dragons they passed were varying shades of brown, bustling to and fro through the streets, often with carts and crates of emerald crystals.
Large tunnels snaked out from the center, most of which were accompanied by mine cart tracks. However, two much larger tunnels held much larger gauge tracks for proper trains. The central square itself was split into two levels. The upper level carried shops and stands full of stones, gear, and other practical use items while the lower level carried agricultural items like meat, fruits, and vegetables.
Klipp led Ragnar over to a small building with a red heart above the doorway. Doorway was an overstatement as there was no door. None of the buildings had doors. Most buildings had curtains.
The two stepped into the clinic, a small chime noting the dragons’ presence. A man’s voice greeted them. “Hello!” He chimed. His voice was higher pitched than either of the dragons’ voices. Although, as dragons, their voices were naturally lower and more resonant than smaller sentient creatures like humans.
The man stepped out from a curtained-off area he had been working behind. He stumbled out, nearly tripping on the long curtain. “Hi, there!” he called. He was a human with a doctor’s coat and a turtleneck jumper that clung to his strong, yet slender arms. They looked slimming on him. “What can I do for you two?”
Klipp chimed in. “Yes, my new friend here took a tumble and tore up his wing” He motioned to the red dragon. The webbing had swollen and turned to a sickly pink color. “I think he might’ve sprained something too. He’s been limping all the way here.” He motioned for Ragnar to step forward who limped forward on his bruised legs.
“Hi, I’m Ragnar.” He waved to the doctor, a curious look in his eyes. He carefully spread his injured wing so that the doctor could see it better. Crusty flakes of dried blood flittered to the floor.
The doctor stepped closer. “Hmmm…That is a nasty tear, especially for a Wind hybrid like you.” He paused as he looked around the office. The clinic itself had two curtained spaces like a hospital room. It also had a large shelf full of mysterious liquids, pastes, and tablets. On one side of the room was a stone counter with curtained shelves, likely meant for individual clients. “You did well to bring him to the Quarry Infirmary. We may be small but we’re the best around.” The man cracked a tired smile. He stepped toward the second curtained area and peeled it back, revealing a large stone bed with a suspiciously rock-like pillow.
“Just give me a moment.” The doctor popped his head into the other curtained room and whispered something to the patient inside. An aching moan echoed back in reply. “I’ll get back to you soon.” The doctor quickly popped back out. “Where were we?
“My wing?” Ragnar asked.
“Right, take a seat on the bed and we’ll get started. Klipp, could you give him a hand?” Klipp nodded and helped Ragnar to the bed. He stepped back so the doctor could work. “How did you tear up your wing so bad?” He began rummaging through some of the solutions on the nearby shelf.
“I tripped and fell down. Some jagged rocks tore me up as I rolled down the slope. I stopped when I slammed into a stalagmite and passed out.”
The doctor hummed in thought. “Okay…Klipp?” He turned to the burly dragon. “Did you wash the wounds out, so they won’t get infected?”
The large dragon nervously rubbed his arm. “Uh, no? I just brought him here straight away.”
The doctor sighed. “I’ll have to disinfect all of it myself.” He found a bottle of paste from one of the shelves and grabbed a tongue depressor. “You can go, I’ll fix him up, but it’ll take a while. Come back in a couple of hours to check up on him.” He turned to the bruised dragon. “He looks disorientated.”
“Doc? I need to tell you something in private first.” The dragon wrapped a massive arm around the man’s shoulder.
“Sure.”
They walked out of the infirmary and huddled by the entrance, speaking in hushed tones. “That new guy, doc. He’s different—and I don’t mean because he’s a hybrid. He says he used to be human, from the same dimension you came from it seems! He’s experienced a full species transformation.” He scratched behind his head, “I don’t really know how or why though.”
The doctor’s eyes widened. “Earth! Really?”
Klipp nodded, “He was rambling about tourism, Stonehenge, and something called a UK?”
“That’s the name of a country on Earth, Stonehenge is just a landmark there.”
“Oh,”
“I’ll talk to him about it, okay? Maybe this is my chance to finally make my way back home…to my family.”
Klipp nodded, “I’ll see you later then.”
The dragon and doctor parted ways. He re-entered the infirmary and sat on a stool next to Ragnar. “I’m sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Dr. Patterson.” He gestured to himself.
“I’m Ragnar.”
“Nice to meet you, Ragnar.” He gestured to the paste. “This is a disinfectant. It’s going to sting. Once I’ve applied the paste, lie down on your stomach, okay? I’m going to have to check on my other patient here in a minute.” Ragnar nodded as Dr. Patterson reached for the disinfectant.
As the doctor touched the inflamed webbing, Ragnar’s wing folded in recoil. “Ow!” He hissed.
“Keep it down, please!” Patterson hissed back. “My other patient needs the quiet right now.” He reached for a bone-shaped rubber toy. “If it helps, bite down on this.”
“I’m not a dog.”
“I know that, but this is the only thing I have for you to bite down on that won’t instantly break when you start chomping on it.”
The injured dragon grumbled, “fine.”
Dr. Patterson sighed. “Alright, please open up your wing so I can apply the disinfectant.” Ragnar sighed and reopened his wing.
Patterson quickly scooped the paste onto the flat side of the tongue depressor and applied the disinfectant to the wound. When he was done, he tossed the wooden stick into a garbage pail. The man grunted as he stood, his aging joints ached and popped as he did so. He grabbed the slobbery rubber toy and dropped it into a bin before returning the disinfectant to its place and checking in on his other patient.
Behind the curtain was another Ground dragon, this one was less burly than Klipp, but he certainly wasn’t scrawny. He had a broad and sturdy frame, maintaining a similar boulder-like shape that Klipp sported. Dr. Patterson fed him a spoonful of medicine before the dragon drifted off into sleep.
Dr. Patterson closed the curtain again and flipped the sign in the window to closed. He returned to Ragnar and took a seat where he could eye the entrance to his establishment.
The doctor began to rummage through a few of the things in the nearby drawer, eventually pulling out a needle and thread. In a hushed voice, “I’m going to stitch up this hole in your wing. I don’t think you’ll be able to fly for a week or two, but the stitches get to come out in just a few days.” He smiled.
He leaned over Ragnar’s outstretched wing. “I’m going to start making conversation with you to distract you from the pain, okay?” Ragnar nodded. He grimaced and bit down on the rubber bone as the doctor began sewing up the wound. “I hear you’re from Earth.” He said flatly as the needle continued to glide the webbing.
“Ah! Yeah, uh, I was vacationing in the UK during the summer, and something brought me here to wherever this place is.” Ragnar gestured his hands around the room.
“Quartz Quarry.”
“Yeah, sure. But I can’t remember what happened after I stopped to see the rocks at Stonehenge.”
“Uh-huh. I bet you didn’t know that Stonehenge is one of Earth’s ‘portal stations.’” He rolled his eyes. There are a few scattered around the globe, but they all lead to the space between worlds, the Dream World. I won’t bore you with too many details right now, but what’s REALLY fascinating to me is how you became a dragon.” He looked up from his work at the dragon’s face.
“Dude, all I know is that I woke up by a pool of water and found out I was a dragon.” His face contorted into a mixture of confusion and abject fear. “How is this even possible!” He thrust his arms towards the ground and motioned over his whole body. “I mean, I thought dragons were a myth, and here I am a bipedal dragon in a world full of them!” Tears began to well in his eyes. “Why would I be left a fate like this! I’m ripped from my home and stripped of my humanity. I don’t have a clue how or why I’m here…”
Dr. Patterson tied off the end of the thread and put the remaining spool back into the drawer. He rummaged around and plucked out a roll of gauze, a small bottle of an unknown liquid, and a cotton ball.
The man sighed and placed a hand on Ragnar’s shoulder. “Believe me. I know what it’s like to be far from home-especially in ways I never even dreamed of.” He sighed as he knelt by Ragnar’s damp snout. “I also came from Earth. It’s a separate story for another time, but I’ve been stuck in this world for a long time now, with no way to get anywhere without a little help. All modes of transportation and traversal here have been designed for dragons, not humans. With you here, we might be able to get back home!”
Ragnar sat up. “And what? Be welcomed back like some kind of lost child? No one would believe we were lost in another world. Everyone would run scared of me or-or shoot me on sight.” The tears started to flow again.
Dr. Patterson patted him on the back. “I know a town that might be helpful for us. The town of Dracaeli is home to a portal station. Nearly every town across the multiverse that’s built around one of them has what’s known as an Animal Jeweler. The one in Dracaeli should be able to help you with your dragon problems.”
Ragnar sniffled. “Really?” He asked, his eyes puffy and red.
“Really.” The doctor replied. He motioned to the items he had grabbed from the drawer. I’m going to wrap up your limping leg after I’ve applied this polish to your scratched scales.” He grabbed the bottle and cotton ball and started to wipe down the visibly scratched and battered scales.
“Why do my scales need polishing?” Ragnar sniffled.
“It’s nearly the end of the Summer. Every dragon molts their scales at the end of each season and grows new ones. Unlike the animals on Earth, dragons molt frequently just to keep up with Draconis’… turbulent environments. The end of the season is only a few weeks away and that means that having scales in great condition leads to a better price at the interdimensional markets.”
“Why is that important?”
“Well, I doubt that you have any currency that’ll be good in other dimensions let alone this one.” He paused a moment. “But! I’ll give you a temporary job here at the clinic until your wing is healed. It’ll give you some money to work with and your labor can also cover the bulk of your medical expenses.” He smirked.
Ragnar sighed. “Okay.” He paused as he thought about everything that was just thrown at him. “Wait! Where am I going to stay? Am I going to be okay without my scales?”
He sighed again, “Klipp will give you a room. He owes me a favor anyway. And, you’ll be fine without scales so long as you don’t go flying or roughhousing too much. That’s why the very end of each season is bad for business. On the bright side, business in the weeks leading into and coming out of it are great! I can sell scale polish and balms for protecting your hides while all of you molt.” He beamed.
Soon Dr. Patterson had finished polishing the worn scales and started wrapping the sprained leg in a tight layer of gauze. “I’m going to give you a mild sedative. It’ll help you heal faster. When you wake up, you’ll head out with Klipp and do some shopping, so you’ll be prepared to help me tomorrow.” He smiled.
Patterson grabbed the same bottle of sleeping medication he had given to the other dragon and fed Ragnar a spoonful. A few seconds later, Ragnar was passed out on the stone bed, deep in a dreamless sleep.
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Category Story / Fantasy
Species Western Dragon
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 23.7 kB
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