"I am Jerboa." She said, then walked into the small hut. Her talons clicked on the wooden floor. The small dragonet looked up at her, her face a mask of worry and suspicion.
Jerboa smirked and shifted her wings to be more comfortable. "Don't worry," she said, "you're safe here. Safer than you were before when I found you." She walked over so a small counter and dumped out the contents of her leather pouch.
"You know, dragonets shouldn't fly around a desert all by themselves." Jerboa picked up two glass jars with cork lids and they clacked against her black talons, "There are dangers out there."
The small dragonet shifted, "Why would I fly over a desert by myself?" Jerboa shrugged, "How would I know? I found you crash-landed by my oasis." There was a pause in the conversation. "How are you feeling?" She asked.
The dragonet shifted on the cot again, "Not to bad, but my wing hurts." Jerboa nodded, "Which one?" "I'm, left I think." The dragonet said, then winced as she tried to move it.
"Don't do that," Jerboa advised as she picked up two more jars, then set them down on the counter next to the other ones. The dragonet sat in silence as Jerboa worked. As Jerboa pulled a cloth out of the cabnet along with four sticks she asked, "What are those for?"
Jerboa answered, "To splint your wing," she walked over to the dragonet, "Now hold still."
A four days and a half later, the dragonet was sitting outside Jerboa's hut. The sand was warm and the oasis glittered in the sunlight. She had gotten used to Jerboa's coming and goings. Jerboa had a habit of leaving early in the morning and coming back late in the afternoon.
She often came back with interesting things like succulents, insects, strange herbs, and even one time a lizard with five legs. This day she came back to the hut about an hour before noon.
Jerboa landed with a soft, thump on the sand. "Brought something back for you," she said- then lifted the small leather pouch that hung around her neck, over her horns. "But first," she looked up at the dragonet, "do you remember anything?"
The dragonet shook her head. "Anything at all?" Jerboa asked, "Not even your name?" The dragonet shook her head again, "No, nothing." "Hm." Jerboa said, "Well, what do you want to be called? I can't keep calling you dragonet."
The dragonet looked up at the sun. It beat down on the desert, making the day fairly hot. The sun reminded her of the Scarab Beetle, that was worshipped by the ancient SandWings. Jerboa had told her stories by the campfire outside her hut.
But Scarab sounded to sophisticated for her. "What about Beetle?" She asked. Jerboa nodded approvingly, "That name seems to fit you. Come inside, I have something to show you."
Phew! What a long chapter! I had a lot of inspiration for this one and and I think it turned out pretty great!
What do you think? Tell me in the reviews!