Name:  Silverspike

Type:  Midnight Stalker

Birthdate:  Born on February 9 in Zandorian year of 3397 during Calvin the Collector’s Reign

Current Age:  803

Status:  Collected by Kenton in Zandorian year of 3700

Residence:  Currently hiding on earth with Kenton and Noon Stalker Skylark

Personality:  No-nonsense, serious, highly intelligent dragon; likes solitude, hates loud noises

Favorite Food:  Dog Food

Biggest Fear:  Car Horn (makes him so nervous that he shoots lightning bolts at everything around him)

Unique Fact:  Loves listening to the sound tracks of musicals

Silverspike is the first dragon to appear in The Dragon Collector.  The following is an excerpt from the book that highlights his appearance:

Javan prodded the horse with his heels, encouraging Storm to quicken his already fast pace.  Soon they would be off the ranch property and into the mountains.  He knew the area well.  He could easily hide over the weekend. 

He would return on Monday and hope the Kaesemeyers were gone.  Or he could just stay lost.  Start over somewhere else.  New high school.  New football team.  New girls.  Except the whole food, shelter, clothing and caring for a horse without any money to his name could prove problematic.

“We’ll figure something out, Storm.  Just keep rid—whoa.  What…is…that?”

Apparently Storm didn’t care to stick around to study the giant grey scaly creature with pointy wings and a spike on the top of his massive head lurking in the water just ahead of them.  Instead, Storm stopped in his tracks and reared back, throwing Javan onto the bank of the river. 

By the time Javan stopped himself from rolling into the cold river water, Storm was gone. 

The creature remained.  Javan’s initial reaction was to describe it as a dragon, but he wasn’t insane.  Dragons didn’t exist.

Whatever this creature was called, it spanned nearly half the width of the fifty-foot wide river and stood with the top of his body showing in the twelve-foot deep water.  Its long neck swiveled its head in Javan’s direction.  Its nose was the size of Javan’s head and was almost close enough for Javan to touch.  He didn’t.

He also wasn’t sure if he should stay flat on his stomach and wait the creature out or jump to his feet and take his chances with an all-out sprint towards home.  

The creature lifted his head and snorted a lightning bolt into the blue afternoon sky.

“Staying put,” Javan decided.  If he was going to die by a bolt of electricity from the mouth of a monster, it wasn’t going to be while running.  Running was the one activity he hated most in life; he certainly didn’t want that miserable feeling of forcing one foot in front of the other at an unnaturally fast pace to be his last memory.