I carried Dragon Little on my head as we flew back to Bonny’s Revenge.
The pirate ship she lived on was resting on the ocean under the two suns, where we had left it. I came to a stop in the water right next it, careful not to cause even a wave that would stir the ship.
I leaned my head forward and 3-year-old Dragon Little, the girl her father called Joy, walked across my nose, and leapt unto the deck.
“That was fun! Let’s do it again!” she said.
“I would love that, but I think you’re a bit tired, Dragon Little. It’s been a full day.”
“I’m not tired,” she said and yawned. She looked around and sat down on the deck, legs spread, leaning back on her hands, looking at me. “I miss her, Red. I want her back.”
She was talking about Mary, her nanny who had died a few months ago, the nanny her father was sure he could bring back because it was his dream. “I told you the truth, Dragon Little.”
“I know,” she said. “Are you sure?”
I nodded as gently as I could. “I am sure.”
“What about you, Red? I love you. If you die, you can’t come back?”
“That’s right. When I die, I will be dead, and no one, not even your father, can bring me back.”
“And Dad? I love him. Will he come back?”
I shook my head. “He will not come back, my dear dear Dragon Little.”
Her face cracked and it was clear she was about to cry.
“But that should be a long, long time from now,” I said. “Your father ist young. He can live a long, long life. And me? I have lived for centuries already, and I can live for centuries more,” I said. And I did not add the end of that sentence that ran though my mind: But I do not expect to survive the next few years. I will probably die before you, my Dragon Little, who are destined to die young.
Dragon Little nodded and looked away. She did not cry.
“I miss her,” she said.
“I know.”
“I want her back.”
“I know. Do you want to sleep now?”
She nodded.
“Get into bed. I will tell you a story through a window?”
She perked up. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Let’s go!” She ran into her cabin as if she was not even a little bit tired.
I smiled to myself and moved my head sideways to look through the window to her cabin.
Recounting this conversation has worn me out. I grow tired easily at any hardship. That ist the consequence of being a slave all my life to terrible creatures.
I will tell you of the story I told her tomorrow.
—Told by The Red Dragon