We all have unique gifts. Not using them can be as harmful as using them for evil.
The evil wizard, Calcine, has a plan to take over the dragon kingdom of Tarragon by turning the gift of fire against them.
The queen sends Sir Remington Brandabum, th...
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The girl peeked out from behind the wagon to make sure no one was there. Her long dress dragged in the mud, but she didn't seem to notice. Certain there were no witnesses, she stood up and boldly rifled through the contents of the wagon. Without hesitation, she helped herself to a spool of thread, two books, a box of matches, a bag of sugar, three apples, and what appeared to be a ham. Each item was tucked into the battered leather bag that hung from her shoulder. A leather helmet and goggles were brought out from beneath a pile of men's shirts. She tossed the helmet aside and put the goggles on, looking around through the lenses with a grin before pushing them up onto her forehead. She fished around some more and came up with a lovely blue shawl. After running the soft fabric through her fingers several times she wrapped it around herself, flinging one end over her shoulder and whispering to no one, "I'd rather be a chicken than a turkey." The bright color stood out in stark contrast to the filth of the rest of her clothes. Taking a last look around, she hopped down from the wagon bed with the grace of the street-cat she was, but she didn't run away. Glancing around once more time, to make sure she was still alone, she grabbed the box with the bold black letters on it; letters that spelled, "ART SUPPLIES.'
Remington's heart hammered in her chest. Who, besides a passionate artist, would steal a box of art supplies? He'd been lurking around this delivery wagon ever since he noticed that precious cargo, waiting to see which store it would be delivered to; hoping someone would buy it.
The portal had opened in a rocky cave near the sea and he'd flown as fast as he could in search of a large city. Such places always seemed to be centers of creative activity, but once he found the city, he realized he had no idea where to go next. The human world was so different from his own that it was difficult to even determine what the many buildings were. Furthermore, the need to remain concealed kept him creeping through the shadows and flying above the rooftops.
How was he supposed to figure out who was who? Any one of these swarms of humans could be an artist. It was possible that none of them were, and he was wasting his time in this place. The discovery of the ART SUPPLIES box seemed a gift from the gods.
A gift that had led him to this grubby little street urchin.
Laden down with the spoils of her theft, she made her way to the end of the alley and into the street where she dashed between cars and horse drawn carts just as a man emerged from the general store meant to receive the delivery. "Hey!" He yelled. "Stop that girl!"
She reached the corner, peeked over her shoulder again, and raced into the thick stream of a crowd of women in black dresses, marching through the streets with signs on long sticks. One of them put a kindly arm around the girl and she allowed herself to be led all the way to the end of the block before she ducked under the woman's arm and took off, away from the marchers, through the city park.
