![]() ![]() For once I didn’t think that light was related to its soul. It breathed in deeply, a golden glow growing in its chest. ![]() But at least the dragon didn’t smell as bad as unicorns. Because really, what kind of self-respecting, trash can–scrabbling mythical dragon wouldn’t talk? I was equal parts terrified and annoyed. “Nae, child, I am no wee beast.” The air tasted like charcoal as its voice slid out, high and smooth and ageless, momentarily shocking me even more than the fact that there was a dragon hanging around behind the trash cans. Its face was almost wolfish, a long snout cut by two thick tusks jutting out and curling up over the lips. ![]() Instead of the mini masked bandits, I was greeted by a pale, serpentine body with feathers raised like spikes along its spine and shoulders. Which made my task to scare raccoons out of the alley behind the diner much more complicated. Here’s the thing about dragons: I know absolutely nothing whatsoever about them. You’d Think They’d Never Seen an Invisible Boy Before ![]()
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