Yesterday morning when I woke up, it appeared Silkworm had come down with a cold, but as the hours progressed and early morning became late morning, it was obvious this was no cold. On top of a fever and nausea, he developed the most unusual symptoms that didn't fit any human disease I was aware of: purple slime leaking out of the pores of his fabric, sneezing at the sight of shadows, irrational fear of anything perfectly circle-shaped (particularly the plate I was going to eat my breakfast on), et cetera et cetera. I was simply thankful it wasn't a work day for me, because this seemed like something that certainly needed my undivided attention.
We contacted a few magical acquaintances for advice and did some of our own research, and by noon, we'd come up with a diagnosis. Silkworm had fallen victim to Murky Blech Disease, a 24-hour sickness that's virtually harmless, so long as one drinks a special antiviral brew every five hours precisely or else the disease will have time to start mutating its victim into a pile of cloudy goo (hence the name). Supposedly, it can take only minutes for victims to be mutated once the disease has an opportunity. By the time we'd figured it out, we barely had an hour left before the disease would start melting Silkworm at 1:00 PM--or so we told ourselves when we learned Hour 1 is always 8:00 AM sharp--so we had to find the ingredients for the brew recipe fast. We re-contacted a few of those magical acquaintances again to ask about griffin's milk cheese, ground jackalope meat, and bleached ghost dust, and they were all able to spare us enough to make the recipe, but we were still missing just one thing: a dragon's tooth. We don't know any dragons, nor any magical creatures brave enough to snag a dragon's tooth from the mouth of one of the enormous beasts, and with only three minutes left, we were beginning to panic.
Then, all of a sudden, there was a clash on the window. It sounded as if a rock had been thrown, and when we walked over to inspect it, we were thoroughly flabbergasted. In the cloudy sky outside our house swirled the shadow of a dragon as big as the car in the driveway. It seemed to notice us when we opened the window, almost like it had been waiting for us to do so--and it had.
We raced outside and the dragon landed in the very tiny strip of woods behind our house, to which we followed it, praying this wasn't a trap of sorts and we weren't about to be lured into the woods and swallowed whole. Luckily for us, 'twas not the case at all.
There in the woods sat--on top of a few bushes and small trees it has knocked over and crushed--a huge sage green dragon, looking not much in the mood to kill us after all. In fact, it appeared it'd come to help when it spit out a tooth at our feet. The dragon glared at the both of us so deeply we both swore it knew something we didn't--and suddenly, the color of its scales was awfully familiar. I could practically feel Silkworm thinking the same thing--but then as quickly as it came, the dragon took off.
Silkworm and I looked at each other (no time for purging our curiosities), then the tooth, then the door to our house, and before we knew it, we were scurrying back inside as quick as my feet could take us (Silkworm had been on my shoulder the whole time). The minute we arrived back in my room was the same minute the brew had been thrown together, and we took it outside to boil it over a fire, like the recipe we'd found read.
We were able to brew the potion in less than a minute--it melted rather quick--and Silkworm chugged down a cupful without hesitation to add even another millisecond. It was hard to tell if it worked, because #1, we weren't sure how close it was to 1:00, #2, we weren't sure if a cupful was enough, and #3, the potion didn't seem to ameliorate his symptoms much less clear them up. Nevertheless, we had to assume everything was okay after a few minutes passed and Silkworm didn't look anything like a pile of mush. Another five hours later, Silkworm sipped another cupful, completely aware of the horrific taste since he wasn't focused on anything else, this time. I had to force-feed him the next one last night.
In between the doses, we got to talking about the dragon that gave us the tooth, and we've come to the solid conclusion that it had to have been the Valentine's Day full moon dragon, the one that hatched from the tiny egg Silkworm coughed up. It had to be; there was simply something in its gaze, and, well, it wore the same sage green scales! Naturally, he'd grown like a weed since we last saw him for hardly five seconds, but it was him. We're absolutely positive.
What we're not so sure about is how he knew we were in a pickle and exactly what it was we needed to get ourselves out. We wondered if perhaps the full moon last week had anything to do with the dragon's arrival; perhaps Silkworm, under the control of the moon, knew he would be getting sick (that is to say, the disease could have been in its incubation stage) and let out that roar as a call to alert the dragon? As silly as we feel saying it out loud, we've been thoroughly considering the fact that we might be the designated protectees of a guardian dragon. That seems like a reasonable explanation, but we feel so small and insignificant to simply assume such a huge thing. I don't know. I guess we'll just have to wait and see if our theory is proven a fact.