In a slightly futuristic, polluted world, fourteen-year-old Bryn watches an ancient egg hatch, and her life changes forever. Like her family before her, Bryn can “ken” with birds, so at first she doesn’t understand why she relates to what appears to be a lizard. Then she realizes that the critter in her care is really a baby dragon. When the dracling becomes an Internet phenomenon, she must flee to protect him from poachers and others who wish him harm. But will Bryn be able to protect him, or will she lose the dracling just as she comes to love him? A fast-paced, standalone addition to Susan Fletcher’s beloved Dragon Chronicles series, Ancient, Strange, and Lovely puts a modern twist on a timeless genre. Gr 7-10–This book offers a wondrous mix of dystopic science fiction and magical fantasy. Bryn is grieving the loss of both of her parents. Her mother disappeared on a scientific mission and her father went to look for her. She and her younger sister are living with their aunt and coping as best they can. Then, one of the boxes sent by her mother before she disappeared turns out to have a dragon egg in it. Bryn isn't sure what it is at first, just that she doesn't want scientists to dissect it and destroy it. She ends up having to run away to where it all began in Alaska, where her mother disappeared. Can she outrun poachers, scientists, and other nefarious characters and find a safe place for the baby dragon? Fletcher has done an outstanding job of creating a believable place and space for this story to unfold. The plot flows smoothly and quickly with a lot of action. Bryn is multidimensional and realistically developed as are many of the minor characters. Room is left at the end for a sequel, but readers aren't left hanging. All in all, this is an engrossing and imaginative read that will appeal particularly to fans of Robin McKinley or Anne McCaffrey. Saleena L. Davidson, South Brunswick Public Library, Monmouth Junction, NJ © Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted. After her scientist mother mysteriously disappears, high-school freshman Bryn discovers among her mother’s research materials a large, peculiar egg, which hatches and reveals a baby dragon. Bryn is familiar with extraordinary circumstances; she can communicate telepathically with birds, and she discovers that her talent enables her to connect with the little dragon hatchling, too. After word gets out about the magical little beast, Bryn runs away and encounters dangers, including poachers, as well as unexpected allies. Featuring an appealing, well-drawn protagonist, this stand-alone title in the Dragon Chronicles series is set in the near future and blends suspense, fantasy, and familiar elements in an engaging, absorbing read. Grades 7-10. --Shelle Rosenfeld "An intelligent and wryly humorous fantasy." - Horn Book Susan Fletcher is the acclaimed author of Journey of the Pale Bear ; as well as the Dragon Chronicles, composed of Dragon’s Milk , Flight of the Dragon Kyn , Sign of the Dove , and Ancient, Strange, and Lovely ; and the award-winning Alphabet of Dreams , Shadow Spinner , Walk Across the Sea , and Falcon in the Glass . Ms. Fletcher lives in Bryan, Texas. Visit her at Susan Fletcher.com. 1 THINGS THAT GO THUMP APRIL EUGENE, OREGON I woke in the middle of the night, came straight up out of sleep. Then sat there, heart pounding, in that numb, blind space where you can’t quite kludge together exactly what’s just happened or where or when you are. It was that dream again. That dream of running, searching. Of stepping off the edge of something, of falling. The sickening lurch in the gut. The dropping down and down through black nothing and not quite landing. The full-body spasm when I would have landed, jolting me out of it, out of the dream, out of sleep. From a dim corner, Stella stirred: a floofing of feathers, a dry click, click of talons across the perch. I kenned her, felt her in my head: edgy now, but not alarmed. Nearby, on the shelves, I could make out the shadowy outlines of other birds—ceramic and glass and stone. Safe in bed, in Aunt Pen’s guest room. No one searching. No one falling. A wind gust shook the house. Against the far wall, the shadows of rhododendrons waved in the streetlight glow. They looked huge, out-of-scale, like from a monster vid: Jurassic rhododendron. Something thumped down there—a stray cat, maybe, or an unlatched gate, or somebody’s tipped-over plastic trash can. Some ordinary, safe thing, probably jolted by the wind. A chill shuddered at the edges of the air, seeped through my PJs, raised gooseflesh on my back. I slid down in bed and cocooned myself in blankets as the other nightmare came to squat in the heartspace of my chest. The nightmare that lived with me now, a Fender bass static hum that never went away, not even when I woke. Mom. Thump. Thump-thump. I sat up. That sound again. When I was lit