Free Dragon's Heart by Jane Yolen

Jakkin's blanket. He woke and kicked the blanket off, then lay still for a moment, trying to enjoy the feel of mattress and pillow.
A year is a long time to go without mattress or pillow.
They had done what they could in the wild to stay alive, to make themselves comfortable. And comfort aside, it had been wonderful.
    What am I thinking?
There'd been the loss of his beloved dragon, real fear, scrabbling from meal to meal, the need to always keep out of sight. In the mountains, all he'd cared about was staying alive—and getting home—yet not quite a week home in the nursery and here he was suddenly wishing he could go back. Now that time shone in some sort of golden light, like a miracle. And miracles, by their very nature, only happen once—and are gone.
    "
Wake up, lazy legs
." It was Akki, her sending snaking into his head. "
I'm already up and eating breakfast.
" The sending bubbled with the dark, popping red of a cup of takk, though neither of them drank the dragon-blood-based drink anymore.
    "
Akki!
" His sending was nearly a shout. It had been too many days without her constantly in his head. That was what he missed more than anything, what had made the year in the mountains wonderful. But still he had to ask. "
Why are we sending?
"
    "
Likkarn's already safely away in the barn. Kkarina says he's been there all night. Must be a hatching. He won't be able to hear us. And no one else can.
"
    "I'm there," he said, getting out of the bed.
    "What?" Errikkin sat straight up in the top bunk next to Jakkin's.
    "Breakfast," Jakkin said, a finger to the side of his nose. "Smell it? I'm there. You coming?"
    Errikkin shook his head, then turned over, showing only his rounded back.
    Jakkin shrugged. Five days of Errikkin's back was enough. If Errikkin wanted no part of him, then he'd let the friendship go, though he did wonder what had happened in the year he'd been away to change the always pleasant boy he'd known into this sullen, angry stranger.
It can't just be the bond thing—can it?
    Putting on his sandals, Jakkin stood. He had enough problems without making Errikkin another one.
    Arakk was already up and pulling on his shorts. "I'm with you."
    Jakkin grinned at him. At least Arakk had a sunny disposition, unlike sullen Slakk and my-back-to-you Errikkin.
    "Breakfast. That's the answer. It's always the answer!" Jakkin said.
    "To what question?" Arakk asked.
    Jakkin laughed. "To every one of them." At the same time, he unleashed a sending toward the common room, where Akki was waiting. "
Get some lizard eggs ready for me!
" He sent a bright red bubbling landscape to her. He wanted to say more, but he'd leave that for later.
    A rushing, gushing river of color came back from her, burbling away.
Why is she so happy ?
    Arakk laughed. For a moment Jakkin was confused, having forgotten he'd been speaking aloud to the moonfaced boy. Then he slapped Arakk on the back. "Any more questions?"
    "Breakfast to every one of them," Arakk said. It had hardly been funny the first time, but the two boys laughed all the way to the breakfast room, leaving their sullen, snoring bunkmates behind.
    As far as Jakkin could tell, everyone but Errikkin and Slakk—and Likkarn, still out in the barn—was already in the dining room when the clanging breakfast bell rang out. It didn't interrupt the noisy commentaries at the twelve tables. Breakfast was hardly a quiet affair, and Jakkin was only just getting used to it again.
    Each table was ruled by a large ceramic takk pot in which the rich red drink brewed. The older men tended to sit together. That left the younger nursery workers at their own tables. One table had been set aside for the solitaires, who preferred not speaking at breakfast. There were three of them and they ate as far from one another as possible. Jakkin had considered it on his first morning back, but Akki had convinced him it would raise more questions than they wanted to answer, as he had not been a solitaire