Four years ago, Morgan was found half-dead near the dragon village of Thorsbury Upon Wick.
Morgan cannot remember what happened to her, but the villagers suspect she might be a dragon from their long lost ancestral homeland.
Adopted by the villager...
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FIVE YEARS LATER
MORGAN - FOX & DRAGON PUB
I was working in the back kitchen when India skipped up to me with something in her hand. She'd returned from shopping in Gloucester with her twin sister Poppy.
"Please tell me there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and Poppy has found her dress for tomorrow night," I ask.
India slides past me and makes a beeline to my rhubarb custard trifle that is cooling on the side. She licked her lips and replied, "Poppy found eight dresses that she may or may not consider wearing tomorrow night."
I grab a wooden spoon and insert myself between my trifle and the hungry teenager. "The trifle is for tomorrow night, as are all the desserts in the chiller."
India rolls her eyes and whines, "I'm starving. What is there to eat?"
I point at the fruit bowl, and a little piece of her soul withers and dies. She opens her mouth to protest, but I place my hands on my hips and repeat, "The trifle is for tomorrow night."
India steps back, and then mischief suddenly sparkles in her eyes. "I've got you something," she says, opening her hand to reveal a small black hard-boiled lozenge."
"What is that?"
"It's a candy called liquorice. Do you want to try it?"
Liquorice? I don't remember liquorice.
There were many tastes and smells that I'd forgotten. Then, four years ago, I was found half-dead in the snow with a terrible head injury and no memory.
My neurosurgeon said she'd only seen a head injury like mine once before, when a skydiver's parachute failed to deploy.
No one, not even me, could tell you who I was. I couldn't tell you where I came from or how old I was. I didn't know my full name or the year I was born.
The severity of the blunt force trauma to the back of my head meant that I'd most likely never regain my memories again.
I took the candy from India's hand and placed it on my tongue. I usually enjoyed tasting new candies, but something was wrong with this candy. It was salty and tasted like car fumes. I wrinkled my nose and spat the black, salty lump of tar into the kitchen sink.
"That was foul," I gagged. "Is that a joke?"
India shook her head, "Liquorice is quite popular."
"With who? Sadists? People with no tastebuds?" I exclaimed.
India snorts back a laugh.
I'd been living with India and her family since I came out of the hospital three and a half years ago. We lived together in the small village of Thorsbury Upon Wick in the Fox & Dragon pub.
