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    This is an excellent piece of original artwork commissioned from as an interior illustration in the forthcoming new edition of…

“Song Singer needs fluids, he is tiring!” called Fae, seated astride the massive neck of Stumble Fish, where she had read the other dragon’s thoughts.

    Unlike Fae’s mature dragon, Scott’s mount was a comparative teenager. It was still growing, and it had an appetite to match.

    “Is there a well or an oasis nearby?”

    She shook her head sadly and gestured at the sun blasted, sand and rock desert below.

    “The last time one was here I sailed across in a silk merchant’s galleon, dived naked for oysters for my breakfast, flirted with mermaids, rode dolphins and frolicked with abandon under the stars with the ship’s captain,” her expression was wistful but then she smiled at the memory of some particularly happy moment.

    “What was he, Werewolf , Centaur or Minotaur?”

    “Neither,” Fae replied. “She was a Sea Nymph, and as utterly beautiful as a summer’s dawn,” she sighed. “I expect that she is just dust now, but for a glorious month we made such sweet music together.”

    From two hundred feet up, Fae saw a slight movement in some rocks above a canyon and the dragon swung right so as not to alert it by casting a shadow over the large sand lizard that his mistress had espied. It was warming itself, recovering from the night’s bitter cold, but soon it would seek the shade.  She must hurry. Stumble Fish spread its wings wide and landed lightly on the far side of an outcropping.

    Fae quickly removed her chaps and boots before releasing the leather ties securing her hunting bow and quiver of arrows. The heavy oak war bow and bodkin tipped arrows were overkill for what she now intended to stalk. She next removed the belly chain, she would not need the katana but the tinkling of the jewels and sparkle of gold and gems did not lend itself to clandestineness. The warrior souls entered her with expectation, as they always did, but she sheathed the long blade and hung it down her back by its strap, safely out of the way.

    Slipping silently to the ground, naked but for her weapons and flamenco hat, Fae ran around the side of the outcrop that was still in shadow, her feet making no sound despite the silence of the desert. 

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Submitted on
February 27, 2016
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Mature Content


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