There were no dragons on the back forty. At least, that’s what Elmore always thought. He thought nothing would go back there, really. It was all rocks, and and deep creeks that cut through the hostile earth. Which is why he was surprised to find a vine growing between two sets of trees, winding, twisting and barely clutching to the sand, filled to the near-bursting with a dozen dragon eggs. They’d be ripe soon, and then they’d hatch. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, back here? Maybe he could turn a profit from the land yet? Probably not, he supposed.