[Gift] Sargasso Sea (of Pumpkins)

Blending in with the carpet of dead leaves, the dappled shade beneath the apple trees, and the dull colors of autumn, Quercus stalked. The Patchwork Orchard was busy, busy, busy, and Jack had wanted eyes on the various denizens that moved around the hub of so many festivities. Quercus knew he was not the first choice, but he was the only choice that made sense. It was as if he were made to live in the Patchwork Orchard. So Jack had taken his head in their hands and impressed upon him:

1) Do not eat the chicken snaketails.
2) Do not cause undue mischief.
3) Keep an eye on dragons and riders.

So Quercus was.

Today’s object of interest was a strange sight indeed, soaring over the pumpkin patch with a pair of wooden wings — part of a ship’s helm, a memory of Jack’s supplied — and a purple cap that jostled and landed perfectly between his antennae with every sudden start and stop. When he turned, the white compass in the middle of his forehead wobbled and turned, ever tracking north. Quercus wondered with sudden and intense curiosity if it worked just as well on Shérok or any other dimension.

Kelp grew from his shoulders, fading from gold to green to purple — the same color as his pupil-less eyes, the same color as his jaunty cap. His body was a deep sea green, mottled with light brown spots and stripes on his four legs.

Quercus knew fairly quickly that this wasn’t one of the people Jack was looking for. But Quercus was fascinated and abandoned the shade, leaping into the air with a beat of his own wings and gliding towards the captain.

Only, he didn’t make it unimpeded.

If this dragon was the captain, the first mate had opinions about who should approach. A much smaller version slammed into Quercus at all speed, his own miniature hat bouncing as he bared tiny fangs. Quercus, had he been a large dragon, would’ve probably batted it aside, but he took more after his Jungle heritage in terms of size, so the small menace actually knocked him off balance, and it took longer than he’d like to recover. “Oi!” he snapped, the leaves around his neck rustling.

“Oi!” the little thing repeated, high-pitched, not quite mocking but with the aura of someone who was quite sure this would be funny later.

Behind the first mate, the captain glanced at him, fathomless eyes narrowed, thin antennae and mustache twitching. “We’re meant to be scouting vittles, not playing with the locals,” he said finally, and with so little concern that Quercus, though he hadn’t a mean bone in his body, was almost offended.

“Vittles?” Quercus repeated, following the other dragon and his companion as they fell down onto the pumpkins.

“Food,” he answered flatly, leaning down to press his head against a pumpkin and knocking with his forefoot.

“Food,” echoed his little first mate, doing the same thing several inches away and glaring at Quercus. Somehow, he seemed more condescending.

Quercus lit up. “Haven’t heard it called that before.” Jack loved languages; even if the rest of this was a waste of time, bringing a new word to them might make it worthwhile. “Does your compass work when you’re not on Eredia, captain?”

He huffed indignantly, the cap on his head bouncing. “Not the captain. Sargasso. And yes. North is north, regardless of the planet.”

Quercus’s black eyes narrowed. “How?”

Sargasso gestured towards his mini-me. “You explain it. I’m busy.” Then hopped over to the next pumpkin.

With a look of glee, the little Sargasso perched on the vine of the pumpkin and began a long, long lecture about magnets and planets that reminded Quercus a little too much of their own rider.