Weredragons

A Queer Trio

Monday came around quicker than Frosta and Clara imagined. Clara introduced Frosta to Meg, her BFF, with quick blue eyes and deep red hair. Despite Frosta's reluctance for human friends, she took an instant liking to Meg. Clara and Meg talked away at lunch, but Frosta for the most part stayed quiet. She didn't quite know how to have a conversation with a human. She was an animal; and animals and humans don't talk together. The two girls talked about lipstick and homework, but Frosta had no interest in the matter. At home the females talked about mating seasons, which happened every third decade. The 70 and older ones were excited, and the younger were jealous. Her father kept her cooped up in the house that week, despite possible searchings for her. It was obvious he disapproved of the whole situation, but Frosta didn't think it was bad. Every maiden in the land looks forward to the opportunity.

Speaking about science class and hearing Meg talk about her sports awards wasn't very fun. And the pepperoni on the pizza that she peeled off wasn't sufficient food. She longed to dig her claws into a boar, rip it to shreds, then eat it raw, coated in fresh blood. Or killing an Orca, roasting it with her breath. Orca flesh is soft and tender, and worth the effort. Frosta had it once when she was in training. Her pack had had to help her, though. Orcas may be tender on the inside, but they travel in packs and put up a hard defense system. Otters were easier to kill. You only need the element of surprise, and then he's all yours.

The bell rang. Frosta tossed away her pizza, empty of its meat. Her stomach was growling as she sat in English class, hearing the teacher blab away about Antagonists. She already went over English 12 a dozen times, and she highly doubted the weredragon community did a worse job than the human community. She glanced over at Clara. She seemed to be much interested, which showed Frosta how inexperienced and helpless Clara seemed. Frosta narrowed her eyes. She would be the one to be stolen, not the strong and mighty Frosta Droma, only child of the Alpha Droma, strongest and most powerful weredragon in the motherhouse.

Frosta looked at Meg, now whispering to Clara. She had a good complexion(for a human) but wore much makeup. Freckles splattered against her nose, matching her deep red hair, parted to one side with a small white bow in it. She wore a sparkled white t-shirt, with a short jean jacket matching her blue jeans and white converse shoes. Apparently she was very fashionable. Frosta shook her head slightly. Meg might be pretty, but she was pretty clueless. All humans were. They stopped believing in certain things as real as themselves. 'Fantasy,' they say. Weredragons, unicorns, werewolves, and vampire bats aren't real anymore. True, dragons aren't real. Dragons never were real. They were stories created by her ancestors to explain the strangeness of getting someone part human and part dragon.

The girl suddenly wondered how much Clara believed. Did she ever try to defend the fact that vampire bats are real to Janet? Or was she taught that they never existed? Frosta thought it sad that her flying friends weren't believed in. Vampire bats actually look rather cute.

The image humans make of unicorns aren't real either. There is nothing magical about them. They aren't white with all the colors of the rainbow as their mane and tail. They can't fly. They aren't silver. They aren't nice, but rather mean. Frosta scoffed. If that was truly the image of a unicorn in humans' mind, than no wonder that they now appear in only fictional story books.

Frosta's human mind came back to the present.

"And now, class, you are going to create a story. It can have true or imaginary facts, but must be interesting. You are going to group with your table partner," Frosta noticed this was Clara, "and try to make one. At the end of the semester, I will award prizes. You have one month."

The bell rang again. School was over at last.

"Do we do a fictional book?"

Frosta had come over to Clara's frontyard to work on the project. Frosta suddenly learned that Clara had a very low attention span. So far, Frosta was the only one who spoke. She gave up and closed the notebook.