Dragon's First Valentine by Sorensen Emily Martha

Author:Sorensen, Emily Martha
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-10-19T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7: Veracity

“Yes, Cukie does that a lot,” Mr. Miller said wearily. “She wants to breathe her name into everything. I wish she’d stop it.”

“But . . . but . . .” Rose gaped at him. “Does that mean dragons have a written language? There’s been no sign of that from Virgil’s memories!”

Whether or not Deinonychus antirrhopus had had a written language was one of the greatest mysteries of paleontology. If the answer was now at hand, to ascertain the fact of it was of paramount urgency. It was thought that they reasonably could have had one, as there were stones scorched by dragon fire with scorchings that seemed oddly precise, yet irregular. If that was a writing system . . . if dragons had a way of writing . . .

If Cucumber could read it . . .

Rose felt dizzy at the implications. The knowledge that could be gained by gathering as many as possible of those stones and asking a baby dragon to interpret!

“I don’t know,” Mr. Miller said. “I assumed she made it up. She knows my wife and I are always writing things.”

“What if she didn’t?!” Rose exclaimed. “Do you understand what that could mean?!”

“That dragons are intelligent. We know that.”

Rose gaped at him. How could he not comprehend the implications?

“It could mean that there are written records! Lost knowledge that wasn’t just stored in an oral tradition! It might be possible to translate it!”

The thought of written records that predated the dawn of humanity . . . the idea of forgotten history that could be easily uncovered just by asking one who knew how to read it . . . the very concept made Rose’s knees feel weak.

Yes, newly hatched infants were not ambassadors, and not intended to be emissaries of their species. They had not been sent by design, nor filled specifically with knowledge to act as time capsules for their species. Yet, despite all odds, here they were, awake and alive. And if they could be a key . . .

“Oh. Yes.” Mr. Miller did not seem to grasp how milieu-shattering this revelation could be. “That would be nice.”

“Nice!” Rose could scarcely keep her voice at reasonable levels. “Don’t you understand the magnitude of how important that could be?!”

Cucumber shoved her head under her father’s armpit, squirming tighter against him. She was scared of the mean lady. The mean lady was very scary.

Rose took a deep breath, trying to force herself to calm down. Her heart was racing.

Virgil butted his head against her chest. Could he go in his wagon now? He wanted to go in his wagon. He was behaving.

Her arms were shaking as she moved to put him where he wanted to be. Her mind was whirling. If dragons had a written language, why did Virgil not know about it? Why did none of his memories from his mother contain her breathing fire upon a rock to write something? She had been a studious academic in nature, just like Rose. Surely she would have recorded things in much the same way.

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