25 July 2012
The Magic Weaver spied a flash of deep blue in the clouds. Hope rose swiftly in his chest as he thought of the dragon, Ryu.
Tyuman cursed the passing desert blue jay as it came into full view.
Settling his eyes back to the golden sand under his feet, Tyuman trudged on through under the beating sun. Raoul, the small grey mouse, lay curled in the shade in his chest pocket.
Weakness seeped through Tyuman's bones and hunger deprived him of ever having a certain thought. The desert's giant sand dunes only made his spirit weaker as he willed his body forwards.
His golden pool of magic had never felt so far away.
Then, suddenly, the mirage he longed for took over his vision - the small, turquoise pool of water surrounded by trees. And there, within his grasp - the doorway to a tiny wooden hut half burried in the sand.
The wind whipped up, spitting sand in his eyes and making Raoul squeak. But the old man didn't seem to notice.
"We've made it Raoul - we made it!" He exclaimed, walking in to the mirage.
The heat faded slightly inside the wooden hut, bringing slight relief to Tyuman's flushed red face.
Raoul sprang from the Magic Weaver's pocket onto the rickety wooden table, the little grey mouse image turned to look expectantly his person.
"Raoul, time to get my magic back."
---
Flying high over crystal mountains a deep blue dragon danced. His long, slender, wingless body ripples through the cold air as he climbs ever higher.
The clouds were mercifully low, a white cotton-wool substitute for the ground below. The great black peaks speared up through the blanket, reaching high into the blue.
Higher, higher he flew, his long whiskers trailing behind his twisting body. The pale blue ridge of fur down his spine grew stiff as the ice began to form.
Ryu roared. The sound ripped through the air, something cracked at the very top of the highest peak. The high pitched squeal of the crack swept out from the mountain. The dragon growled.
The Image Realm | 13 • Opuss № I