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"
Oh
,
"
she
said
.
"
Flying
around
up
there
again
,
is
it
?
Showing
off
.
Don
’
t
you
worry
about
it
,
children
.
Mummy
’
s
here
.
"
She
put
the
lamp
on
a
high
shelf
and
stamped
along
to
Errol
’
s
pen
.
"
Well
now
,
my
lad
,
"
she
began
,
and
stopped
.
Errol
was
stretched
out
on
his
side
.
A
thin
plume
of
grey
smoke
was
drifting
from
his
mouth
,
and
his
stomach
expanded
and
contracted
like
a
bellows
.
And
his
skin
from
the
neck
down
was
an
almost
pure
white
.
"
I
think
if
I
ever
rewrite
Diseases
you
’
ll
get
a
whole
chapter
all
to
yourself
,
"
she
said
quietly
,
and
unbolted
the
gate
of
the
pen
.
"
Let
’
s
see
if
that
nasty
temperature
has
gone
down
,
shall
we
?
"
She
reached
out
to
stroke
his
skin
and
gasped
.
She
pulled
the
hand
back
hurriedly
and
watched
the
blisters
form
on
her
fingertips
.
Errol
was
so
cold
he
burned
.
As
she
stared
at
him
the
small
round
marks
that
her
warmth
had
melted
filmed
over
with
frozen
air
.
Lady
Ramkin
sat
back
on
her
haunches
.
"
Just
what
kind
of
dragon
are
you
-
?
"
she
began
.
