"Where is the Dowager’s luggage?” Fiddlefaddle asks when he realizes that Sneefle is not carrying anything nor were there any trunks outside the door when he let him in. “Don’t tell me you left them somewhere while picking flowers.”
“It’s not what you think big brother. They are being delivered later in the morning. You know the Dowager. Have you ever seen her travel with only one trunk?”
Sniffle is too tongue tied to answer. All he sees is the Dragon sitting on a pillow. In the back of his mind he thinks “why not a pillow?” but in the front of his mind, all he can think is “IT’S A DRAGON!”
“Yes, it’s a Dragon,” Griselda says. “Now find a chair and sit down until I am finished telling my son about his birthright and then you will understand a little more of what is happening here. Now, where was I,” she says as trying to recall how she had left off on the story.
“You had finished telling us about getting your Dragon tattoo but you still have not told me how I am a Dragon,” the Baron eagerly responded.
“And you were going to tell me more about my heritage,” added Hungry.
Sneefle just sat, mouth open, still trying to grasp that a Dragon was calmly sitting ‘on a pillow’ in the parlor and talking. “Oh My!... The new new adventures my brother and I are going to have!…” he thought as he shook his head and absent mindedly opens his box of Moon Flowers.
"Sweets?" asks the baby Dragon as he begins to lick his lips. Quickly Sneefle snaps the lid shut, not fully understanding what just happened.
Griselda just smiled. She had almost forgotten about how Moon Flowers may be a problem with most everyone else. Dragons loved to eat them as much as the Nytemares. "Hungry, sit back down. Those are 'sweets' that are special and too is part of the tale, and if Sneefle has enough of them, later you can see if he will share one with you."