Part 4

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"Asterin, we have been at it for a week, how about we make some progress today?"

I was exhausted, standing alert, waiting to see if the dragon will calm down. Nothing, in particular, happened that would startle Asterin but she decided to roar in my face 3 times in the last 10 minutes and she even snapped at me. If I wasn't fast enough she could've bitten my head off.

It's been a week since Asterin arrived here and I am sad to say that I haven't made any progress with her. I am disappointed – disappointed in myself. Everybody was counting on me to make her feel safe and comfortable here. Three reserves were waiting to see any progress and I didn't do anything.

I couldn't even get her to feel so relaxed to not dig her claws in the ground beneath her. She still roars at me – less at me than anyone else but she roars nonetheless. She scratches anyone who dares to come close to her and the second she sees me in protective gear her nostrils start smoking.

The only thing that has changed since the day of her arrival is that she eats chicken blood and brandy and thus we can see progress in her growth.

My boss understands and is patient with me. He constantly reminds me that I have all the time in the world as long as she doesn't hurt me. I know I have to take it slow and give her time but I can't shake the feeling it would be easier if I knew what exactly happened to her.

I wish I could find a way for her to trust me, to feel safe at least, and to start eating anything else than liquids. She is growing but not at the rate she is supposed to, to reach the correct size for her age.

Every day when I come home from work I make myself some dinner and take out blank pieces of paper and start contemplating ideas what else I could try.

I tried talking to her, singing to her. I imitated roaring and rolled on the ground. I left her completely alone for a whole day, observing her from a nearby hill but she didn't move, being a curveball for the entire day.

I brought her different types of food – venison, chicken, boar, even a wolf. I gave her bread, all kinds of fruit and vegetables but she merely sniffed anything.

I even pretended that I was a dragon – trust me it was the most awkward thing I have ever done.

When I told Matthew of the idea he needed every muscle in his body not to start laughing. He helped me make the costume I put over my protective gear. I carefully walked to her habitat and I piqued her interest the second she saw me. Matthew got a recording of roars from the researchers and when I stopped in front of her, I turned it on so that it appeared as if I was making the sounds. Then I took out my wand and cast a few fire spells so that she could see I can breathe fire.

To my surprise, she didn't get territorial but laid on the ground observing my every move. Matt reckoned she knew it wasn't a real dragon. I had a feeling she was playful but it didn't make any sense. Dragons aren't playful around other dragons at this age – they become defensive and aggressive. I could feel she was still tense and she didn't move – not even her tail – but she looked intrigued which was the first time after I brought her the blood and brandy the first night in the forest.

I was running out of ideas. I asked other dragonologists that have more experience with dragons, Hebridean Blacks in particular, but none of them told me anything new. They indeed are the hardest to tame but none are this afraid. Being one of the mightiest dragons, Blacks usually have little reason to be scared of anything.

I understand that she had a bad experience when she was a baby dragon and who knows how long she was alone before the MacFusty family found her. None of us knows what happened to her or who did this to her – we only have her scars to tell us the story with a lot of gaps in it.

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