28 July 2012
Chapter 3
"This girl, this dragon-child, she has so much gift it is practically seeping out of her. And there is something else, something else there, something that might be dangerous, but you never know. I don't really think we should st-"
"Start now"
"B-b-but sir, she can talk with dragons!"
"Start now."
"Y-yes sir, as you wish, but I think that this is very-"
"Just do it, witch."
"Yes sir."
Amiee was wandering in the direst with Kioran. He could walk now, and talk, though it was mainly baby babble, and she was looking forward to the time that they could have a nice long conversation. But then she remembered her father. He would kill Kioran if he found him. Fledgling skin was almost as popular as adult skin. The scales, so small, made wonderfully sparkly sequins and bead, the wings made warm shawls, and the skin made good leather. Or so they say. "Grub, grub, grub!" exclaimed the miniature dragon, very pleased with the three bugs he had found (and eaten) under an old decaying log. Kioran loved his bugs. He "snapped them up like a crocodile" as Freda would say. Amiee had never seen a crocodile. Her father had, but that was well before she was born. Her mother was murdered by one of her fathers own men, because he said that Fenian, her father, had stolen her away from him, and if he couldn't have her, no one could. Unfortunately Amiee was still inside her mother's womb, but, by some miracle, they managed to get her out. Apparently a dragon took her mother, and when he came back he was carrying Amiee. With small purple wings sprouting from her back.
Creation • Opuss № I