(Dad, I’m Thirsty
By Maggie Web)

Leslie walked towards his office, rubbing the last of the sleep grit from his eyes. The lights were still on, waiting. Golden sunlight spilled over the garden beds decorating his windows. Just the smell from the mishmash of greens provided much-needed calm. There wasn’t much left to do, but it was going to be a long night.

As he got nearer, Leslie paused by the entryway, frowning. Something was missing. The mess of leaves spread across the leftmost sill only served to make the cavity all the more obvious. Leslie looked between the crumbly soil and a curious smear of dirt across the window pane.

“Not this again.”

Leslie dragged himself into the office, bracing himself. He opened the door to a fist-sized bulb perched on the lip of his teacup. White, wormy roots floated in the chamomile, siphoning it. The scene might have looked cute if not for the earthy flecks muddying Leslie’s tea. His stomach turned. There was definitely an ant swimming in there.

“This is what I get for making my own fertiliser,” Leslie said, shoulders slumped. “You enjoying yourself?”

The faceless plant probed deeper into the tea. Its only response to Leslie lifting it away from the cup was to snake its roots down towards it. It was hard to believe that a garlic plant could be this thirsty, and yet the dirt trail across his desk insisted otherwise.
“Come on, back to bed. Dad has to finish his client’s sleeping po—”

Oh no.
Leslie stared at the mortar and pestle he had left behind. Some garlic leaves had flaked off and contaminated the powder he had ground up just minutes before his nap. The lavender hue had dimmed to oxidised brown. Just one sniff confirmed that there was no salvaging it. That’s one whole day of work gone. He grimaced.

The garlic offered no apology. It continued to slurp its tea, even as Leslie set it down to harvest more flowers. It was going to be a long night.

Grisel

The crunch under His foot became a soft hush. Like the rest of this world, the burnt of what was grass turn back into those strands as He passed by.

The One With Many Names kept His face in His notebook, writing; until He reached His destination. While the rest of Existence repaired, He observed the carcass of what His creation constructed.

Its design and meaning were crude to say the least. He knew if He originally made the creature, they and those around them would have had a better experience.

A living being made of metal?, He thought, how interesting.

He sat down and went to the next page of His notebook. He began to draw as He looked at what remained of the thing.

On paper, the jagged hide of the creature became sleeker with a sturdier design. The large size was kept so the creature could protect itself and others. The laser eyes it once had had an additional glimmer like moonlight; when anyone or anything looks into its gaze, there will be calmness even under dangerous circumstances. The creature’s throat now is built to give a fierce vibrato that is also sweet when singing.

He added and changed more details like these and when done He pulled His gloves off. He stroke the creature that was of Man.

The creature, now named Grisel, purred at its Creator.

He padded Grisel and guided it across the land for it was still a newborn.

“We’ll find your place.” He said to Grisel “After all, you are this world’s guardian.”

Ordinary No More (Crossroads City Canon)
By Fredrick H. (challeng3r22)

It was ordinary day in the park. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. Sirens sounded in the distance. And Cassidy was collapsed in a sweaty, gasping heap on the grass.

Her muscles ached from the ten-mile jog she had just finished and the coolness of her water bottle felt good against her skin.

Suddenly, a black cat strode out of the bushes and sat down a few feet from her. It’s emerald eyes seemed weirdly intelligent as it stared at her.

As she stroked its fur, she suddenly felt reenergized.

“What might your name be?” she inquired, not really expecting a response.

“Meow.”

A name suddenly emerged out of the ether, “I think I’ll call you Ovi. Would you like to come home with me?”

In response, Ovi got up and walked to the nearby path. She meowed at Cassidy to hurry up.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Cassidy laughed.

She quickly collected her things from the nearby locker and stopped by the local pet store on the way home to collect the necessities.

By the time Cassidy finished preparing her apartment it was late into the evening. Suddenly feeling the days activities, she collapsed onto her bed.

Ovi stared down at this peculiar human. After a quick cleaning of her face, she began to monologue in the voice of a queen, “Out of all the humans fate has brought me to, you by far are the most unique. I have been a familiar to immortal witches, a guardian to chosen ones, and a traveling companion to reality cutters. But you seem to have no significance in the grand plans of fate. Perhaps, they’re just letting me relax on this ninth and final. I doubt it. If you were awake I would warn you that you will stop being ordinary soon.”

It was safe to say that the King regretted his decision. When playing in the woods two weeks prior, his daughter Rosalind had found a glimmering golden egg; and of course the entitled little princess just HAD to have it and so it was placed on a shelf among her other trinkets. All might have been well and good, had the egg not cracked open to reveal an onyx black baby dragon no bigger than the tip of a spear. The king’s court had immediately advised the most reasonable course of action: to release the drake into the mountains so it could be with its own kind, for not much is known about the ways of dragons. Not to mention if it grew too big it would potentially begin to devour the people. Ah, but of course Rosalind had pouted and said she wanted to keep “Buttercup.” So of course the king had agreed. How could he not when she turned her amber like gaze upon him and begged in a voice as soft as the wind at dawn. Though young she had long ago learned to bend her fathers will to her liking. The King had caved, and now he watched as little “Buttercup” sailed over the towers and streets, lighting them all ablaze with his breath.

The now almost fully grown drake made landfall atop the smoking ruins of a former house, watching the funny little creatures run about beneath his feet and relishing in their screams of terror. From the depths of his memory, he could recall a time when they had seemed like giants. Yet now he could easily crush them underfoot. Grinning at this thought, he spread his wings once more and began clinging to the warm updrafts around him, grabbing and scooping at them, hoisting himself higher into the air. A mad glee came over him at the sight of the burning city below, and his roar of triumph seemed to shake the Earth. For soon the world would know that the city of Arnel had been decimated by the mighty worm, Buttercup.

Unstoppable Visitor
by. CosmicDesperado30

King Malius’ men retreated from their alien opponent. Several of the men fell into the moat out of pure primal terror, either slipping through the rainsoaked mud or blind desperation. The bridge raised, and the portcullis dropped. Captain Knox stumbled into the throne room, his armor scratched and ripped by inhuman means.

“What happened Captain?” Malius declared, trying not to let the fear seep into his royal cadence. “Have the enemy breached our northern lines?”

“No, your Highness,” Knox gasped, “Something happened in the fields. The storm… it…”

“Speak freely, Captain,” Malius leaned forward, mystified.

“It…produced this thing,” the captain’s face turned pale, “lightning struck a tree in the courtyard, and it crawled out of the burning trunk.”

The remaining members of Knox’s unit spilled into the throne room, their armor pocked with identical tears in their chainmail.

“Captain, it breached the moat, it is about to breach the inner wall.” One of the men spoke up, delirious with fright.

“What of the murder holes? The oil traps?” The king replied.

“All had no effect, your Highness!” the king’s regal mask cracked in confusion, “The pikes and polearms broke against its metal skin, and the oil simply rolled off of it like rain off a duck.”

“How many men have been killed?” Malius inquired, dreading the worst.

There was a moment of silence.

“None sir,” Knox spoke at last, “Anything we use to hinder it is thrown back at us in kind. Our armor barely catches it.”

The large ornate doors, two feet thick with lacquered wood, braced with metal and furniture, split open with a deafening crack. Some cowered, believing the very castle itself had been cut in half.

King Malius rose to meet the stranger. It was a silver skinned man, eyes as dark as the night and flashing with sparks of the storm.

“Mister Malius, we have been trying to reach you regarding your vehicle’s limited warranty. This is important because-”

“Oh for God’s sake!” Malius yelled.

The Trash Can Calls, by refreshing firecrumb

“Examination 4-AE, Subject 481…”

You awaken to the sound of a man speaking aloud. The room you’re in is unfamiliar, with metallic walls and bright lights.

“…Subject is a one-foot-tall humanoid with an extra arm protruding from the chest. Subject’s skin has been stained red, however previous experiments reveal that the skin is originally coloured blue…”

Looking around, you see various machines and equipment. Screens beep away and wires protrude from large boxes of silver. However, your attention is diverted to a tall man in a cyan lab coat. He is speaking into a device that he is holding and looking at a table, counting some things out of your view. Your mood is quickly switched from one of confusion to one of terror as you realize-

“…Subject has no observable genitalia. The purpose of this experiment is to attempt to understand how this species reproduces in a natural setting…”

You desperately try to move from your position but find that your arms and legs have been strapped tightly to the table. Terrified, you look over to the man to see him brandishing a scalpel with his light blue plastic gloves. He finishes speaking, puts the device in one of his pockets (of which there are many, so many) and walks over to you. He leans over you and says in a higher tone of voice, almost reassuringly,

“Hey there, little guy! I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been asked to do some research by my superiors. Hey- Don’t be scared! I’m just gonna give you a quick check-up, is all. See, we need you awake for this, as we think that might change our results. Don’t worry, once this is all over, you’ll be out and about with all your other friends. I promise, this will only hurt a little bit.”

And here I now lay
Surrounded by my brothers and sisters
And here I now lay
Unmoving, unfeeling

It’s dark.
It’s oh-so dark.
But I no longer care.

I am one with the universe now.

“For a Little Bread”

By Arith_Winterfell

I stood just outside the pentagram of the summoning circle that had been crafted by Master Arith. Master Arith had left me alone to practice my summoning spells. He trusted me that far at least. I had just attempted yet another summoning and could feel the magical energy surge around me. Yet I was certain I’d miscast the spell by mistake. I panicked for a moment expecting my hair to burst into flames – again. I almost failed to notice the smoke rising from the middle of the pentagram. Once I saw it, I realized the summoning spell had indeed worked, but what did I summon!

The smoke coalesced, becoming first opaque, and then solid. The form inside the pentagram was not what I was expecting. It was shaped like a man, but much smaller, perhaps a little shorter than your average gnome. It looked fairly emaciated, and very much like a withered old man, with knobby knees and a sunken belly. It had neither wings, nor horns, nor a tail. It didn’t look like a demon.

“So, you have summoned me,” the little man said in a slow croak.

“I, er . . . yes, I Master Roric have summoned you!” I drew myself up to my full height. The small creature immediately got on its knees and groveled before me. It gave me such a thrill to have power over another!

“Yes, Gobly will share with you his secret spell.”

I was wary. “What do you want in exchange for your secret magic?”

“I want only a little food, for I am starving and always hungry,” the creature moaned piteously.

I had a piece of bread in my pocket and held it up. “Yes, please give it to me!” the creature begged.

I reached out to give it to the creature and it smiled wickedly! Too late I realized I’d reached out and broken the edge of the pentagram!

The creature flicked one finger at me, and my hair burst into flames – again. I ran and doused my head in the nearby bucket.

Leviathanslayer
By C.W. Spalding

Its teeth were like half-eaten apples: yellow and highly compostable. So Wynless buried them between the petunias and the lilies. As fertilizer. They sat, thirty whole, thirty needling teeth no larger than her pinky’s tip. And sprinkling them over the naked dirt she saw them wriggling through the soil like mealworms. The flowers grew up even as she scattered them. The bulbs got swollen, bloomed, and died before her very eyes.

Its stain-glassed eyes, though shriveled and smaller than her own, she hollowed out. Those she set over the flames of her candles at night to snuff them out, and they glittered like the death of a storm beneath the touch of a hot wick.

Its still-soft claws, dark and unnicked, she ran through a bracelet wire around her wrist. Its foot beans she plucked and crushed into an emerald paste which proved barely enough for a tube of her lipstick. Its wings she treated into leather for fingerless gloves, so small was the swath that remained.

The bony plate of its tail she heated for a tea-sized spoon and the vertebrae of its back served only to read the clattering fall of her future soon to come. Its quicksilver scales she pulled off its skin, forced up away from its flesh using her own bloodied fingernails for leverage. Each one no larger than the size of her own nail, each one bright and new as the moon when it’s heavy with light. From those silvery scutes she made herself a corset, she had only enough to lace the scales as bones across it, bones as hard and unforgiving as the crackling frost of her own, frozen-over soul.

It would have become Leviathan, the dragon of profundity. It’s name was Hutchley, who had worn away its egg-tooth off the tip of its snout beneath her back porch. Wynless was the Leviathanslayer, inheritance of infinity; Wynless was the Hutchleykiller, traitor of the honest heart.

And thus decorated with the many pieces of an odd little creature, she wove a prayer to the steel-domed sky.

On the Hunt
by Lunabear (Edited by Insania404, Exce, Masacur, and Spectre) (Private Repost)

Cooled winds pushed soft, white clouds across the open, blue sky. Dark green leaves twirled through the air from tall, scattered trees. Pale sunbeams streaked across the grassy field, and the blades bowed to the breeze.

Arkina crouched on a warm rock above the slow-moving stream. Sunlight heated her dripping, golden fur as she continued studying her prey. The happily swimming fish reflected within her gray eyes, causing a deep growl from her stomach. Her small tail swayed in a metronomic manner.

Arkina’s pointed ears twitched as a bird twittered from somewhere in the distance. She shivered from a cool breeze caressing her tiny body. Still, her vigilance remained unbroken.

Glittering green scales danced against the water’s surface as a large school of fish swam by.

Arkina’s short legs coiled like springs. Her heart drummed within her chest when one fish was far behind the rest.

Focusing on the lagging fish, Arkina straightened her tail and bared her sharp canines. Her ears flattened back against her skull. She was ready to pounce until the fish stopped moving in a straight line. It spun like a hypnotist’s spiral, and Arkina fell under the illusion.

She watched the little fish swim in wide, loose circles. It zigzagged from bank to bank before getting turned around. She noticed the fish had one fin smaller than the others.

Her hunger was pushed to the background as her eyes mimicked the fish’s struggling movements.

“You can do it,” Arkina whispered.

As if hearing Arkina’s encouragement, the fish faced the correct direction and followed its group, albeit at a more haphazard pace.

Arkina hopped from the rock and ran beside the stream. Her stubby legs made it strenuous to keep up, but she cheered the little fish on nonetheless. The fish slowly inched further ahead of her.

A bend in the stream stopped Arkina in her tracks. She sat and drew cool air into her lungs.
Watching the fish until it was lost from sight, a smile spread her face.

Constellation
by T.E.

A starlit night, anxiety pleasantly numbed by hours at the bar. I stumbled home in the small hours. Face up towards the sky, diamonds shining down on me. What wondrous worlds hid up there? In plain sight, yet eternities away.

I lived alone. A cottage in the woods, pleasantly remote. Just as I stumbled through the gate of my overgrown garden the stars began their dance. All of them, in some choreographed insanity, darted back and forth across the sky. Faster. Faster. I became acutely aware of the Earth spinning through the void of space. Lost my footing. Fell onto the damp forest floor.

How many beers had I had? Not too many. When it comes to self-medicating I believe in moderation. Anyway, I stayed supine and kept my eye on the fairy-dance. The distant worlds came closer. Left their designated spots in the pitch-black night. Raced towards my neglected garden. Infinite suns, circling me, creating miniature constellations, infinitely far away, yet within my reach. They clumped together, a condensed constellation of arms and legs and heads. “Who… are you?” I managed to blurt out.

“Zzzzzzxxxxx.”

What a wonderful sound…

Zx took me in their arms, lifted me to my feet. Its touch warm, pleasant. We stood there under the empty night sky, locked in a sweet embrace. Minutes passed, maybe hours. Somehow I now knew everything was right with the world. I led Zx inside, into my cottage, into my life.

A romcom on the TV, a kettle on the stove. I danced around the kitchen humming a long-forgotten melody. Zx sat obediently on the couch. I had found peace. But when the sun’s first rays shone through the window I heard a horrible sound.

“Zzzxxx!”

The dream had passed, replaced by a horrible hangover and impenetrable loneliness.

I am a nocturnal creature. Shunning the harsh light of day, its ruthless indifference. I’ve given up the bottle and every other sin I’ve practiced. Anything to be perfect for Zx, come back my love.

Let the stars be mine…

The Egg came first (Forsaken Universe)
By Alex Nightingale (aka Spectre)

The shuttle was packed with foraged supplies, as Rain piloted it back to the Fugere, with Newton sitting next to her. The hour long silence, was finally broken by Newton.

“So, we’re not gonna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I only ask, because this could have… implications.”

“Of what kind. I told you, it is fine.”

“It most certainly is not. If we still had enough fuel, I’d turn this shuttle around.”

“Well, it’s only lucky that I waited to tell you, until now.”

“I will have you know that I am very much not okay with this.”

“What’s not to be okay about?”

“Rain, you stole a baby!”

“I did not steal a baby! I just… took an egg.”

“A fertilized egg!”

“Well, I didn’t know that it was fertilized, did I.”

“How could you not know that? Wild eggs are usually fertilized!”

“Oh, I’m sorry that I am not an expert on eggs. My planet does not have any, you know. I just thought it would make a nice omelet.”

“You raided a wild nest… for an omelet?”

“It wasn’t in a nest. It was just lying in the dirt, completely abandoned. And now that I know that there is an infant…”

“Embryo.”

“Embryo inside, I feel even better about taking it.”

“Why, Rain? Just tell me, why?”

“It could be our pet.”

“We already have one. Blueberry, remember?”

“Well, Blueberry can play with it.”

“We don’t even know, what ‘it’ is. It could eat Blueberry. It could eat us.”

“We can’t just abandon it. It was left there. Probably to die.”

“Maybe there was a good reason for that.”

A cracking noise caused them both to turn around. The egg had split open, revealing a tiny lizard head, looking around. The outline of tiny wings was just visible behind the eggshell.

“I know it’s problematic,” Rain admitted. “But we can’t just ditch it, like its caretakers. There’s… enough loneliness to our situation.”

“We know next to nothing about it.”

“I know.”

There was a pause.

“What should we name it?” Newton asked.

PR Initiative No. 81
By Textualpoacher

The little creature appeared in their office one day. No one knew exactly what it was, but Thompson from Downtown Development checked it out and told them it didn’t feel like an animatronic. It was fuzzy brown, one foot tall, and warm to the touch. Had eyes wide like a deer and little claws on its four green feet. Walked around alright by itself, so they let it in and out like a stray cat whenever it clawed at the door. Eventually they just let it borrow their ID card; the boss wasn’t strict about that sort of thing.

They could have left the matter there, but PR thought it would be a good idea if the public got a look at the little creature and saw their friendly neighborhood bureaucrats playing with a pet. The first stunt they tried was getting the little creature an employee ID and post the picture on the city government’s Facebook. Well, IT had something to say about that. The system wouldn’t let them print the card without a government-issued form of identification. A driver license or a passport, and without that it’d just be impossible, they said. Can’t circumvent these rules willy-nilly just because it’d be convenient for you.

They got the okay from the DMV before trying to teach the little creature how to drive. In the meantime they were hung up on what name to put on the license, mainly because the vote went for “Edgar” and the other Edgar was adamant against being called Fat Edgar now, just to differentiate, you see, and avoid any unfortunate misunderstanding. It was then that Paula the intern, the nice-looking one, it was then that she came in and told them about the hit-and-run. Edgar didn’t mean to do it, she said, and he was terribly shook up about the whole thing. His little feet couldn’t reach the brakes and well, now they just got to convince him to do the right thing.

The Thoroughly Terrible Princess Who Would Be Better Served to Cause Less Trouble Thank You Very Much
by LewdCharizard

Once upon a time there was a princess. She had blonde hair and was wildly keen about the goings on of the world. She

“Red hair. I would look better with red hair.”

Excuse me?

“I SAID, I SHOULD HAVE RED HAIR.”

Very well. However, I can hear you clearly, and princesses should not shout. It is unbecoming.

There was once a princess who’s hair was as red as a quite reddish flower. She was sitting in a field admiring the little pond and its little lively frogs. Surely, this year I shall find my prince, she thought.

“I’d rather think of dragons.”

I have a plan, and a prince is integral.

“Maybe dragons should be ‘integral.'”

They are not.

And the princess found she would no longer speak directly to unseen entities. And, in having her voice freed from these frivolities, she wondered aloud if her prince was perhaps wearing a tunic as green as hers, and if he, too, was thinking of her.

“I wonder if my prince is wearing a tunic as green as mine, and I wonder if he too, would much rather be wearing purple, and if he would rather think of dragons. Oh, deary me, a prince who thinks of dragons, that would be lovely indeed. Don’t you agree, you horrid little pond frogs?”

Suddenly, and quite deservedly, the princess transformed into a frog with purple skin and red spots. And, she resembled the posterior-most region of a dragon. Quite luckily for her, however, a witch, who did not wish to become a frog, happened to watch the entire ordeal.

“Ribbit ribbit, ribbit. RIBBIT!” croaked the horrid little princess.

“Never heard a princess say those words before. Anyways, I bet that frog would fetch 500 gold coin at market, especially from a prince….”

…

“Especially because, as a witch, I can cast a frog speaking spell.”

As it would so happen, a prince carrying 500 gold coins would visit the market that very day.

“Deal.”

Death 101
Skorak

Death… My name… is death…

Or Hades, Or Yama. Maybe… Izanami?. I dunno. After all, I just learned how to think

Greetings on repeat dear diary. My name is Charon. Yup, Charon. Anubis told me that keeping a diary, like this, will make me start comprehending the concept of death. Oh, I guess you may be wondering who Anubis is. He’s me. Well… I guess he’s my predecessor. He told me that as the only celestial that naturally ages, death has to eventually find a successor. He created me out of the memories of a dying civilisation infused with a part of his own flesh, how cool is that?. Anyhow, Anubis said he’d take me to watch the death of a human now. I’m so excited, I’ll finally be able to learn what death is all about!

Greetings on repeat dear diary… I don’t want to be death anymore… I just don’t. It was horrible. So much sadness, so much loss. the Man died in pain, thinking of his offspring. Is this my purpose?. Why do I have to be the one to decide when someone is denied their life?. And Anubis… He was so still, so… calm during all of it. I’m gonna go and ask him to erase me right now, he can surely find a more qualified successor. So… I guess this is goodbye.

Greetings. I guess this… isn’t goodbye yet. Once Anubis heard my request, he brought me to an unnamed planet. Microscopic bacteria lived there, barely conscious, their deaths numbering in the thousands. I pleaded with him to stop, take me away. But he didn’t. I stayed there for… I don’t remember, my eyes were closed. Eventually, I opened them. The planet was changed. The soil was green and primitive reptiles were roaming the terrain. It was vibrant, alive. That’s when Anubis took me back here, told me that if I still wished to abandon my duties, I was free to roam the universe. be the “god of whatever the fuck I want”…

Dear diary, I think I want to be death after all

Creatures Great and Small –
By Yearly

Condiment, High Lord of the Known Galaxy, Prince of Totality and Grand Champion Meteorite Golf Player stared in bemusement at the creature before him. It was small, far smaller than the mighty Condiment (who stood at a whopping twenty feet tall, large for even a starborn). It squirmed in its energy cage, scrambling about in order to avoid the gaze of the starborn congregated around it.

“So, you picked this little fellow up at that Milky Way place?” Condiment’s voice echoed throughout the vast chamber. The solar energy that radiated through his skin flared when he spoke. A shorter starborn acknowledged him.

“Yes, lord. We thought we had searched the entire sector but found these things on our exit. We thought you might enjoy them, amusing little critters.”

“I must say, it is an odd looking animal. Far smaller than any of the other sapients we’ve discovered. And such a small brain. Really, most interesting indeed!”

At this, Condiment plucked the energy cage off the table and held it to his massive, glowing face. The thing inside shielded its eyes and bent over, whimpering.

“Hair and skin? An interesting combination, not the usual style you see around these parts.Very natural, very bold, I like it!”

Condiment gave a titanic grin and placed the creature and its cage back on the pedestal. The creature fell on its face and covered its ears.

“And you say there are more of them?”

“Around seven billion at last count sir. A small population. Shall we take some more, for further research?”

Condiment raised one of his tentacles and rubbed his head in a pensive manner. He leaned down once more to observe the now still creature. With an expert eye, he overlooked it, before rising and sinking into thought once more. The room fell silent, the thirty or so starborn all watching the Lord for his answer.

“Take a couple for now. If they prove boring, we can turn their world into a putting green.”

The pink beast in the cage watched in fear as the enormous entities around it began to laugh.

Hail and Well Met
C. M. Weller

It had been a rough winter, which was why Brother Felis was out on the steppes. He’d done well enough with Halfling luck and the Dawn Lord’s second chances. There was enough meat to tide the temple over for two weeks or more.

He made camp on the lee side of a boulder, where some shrubbery still persisted in showing green. He could try to coax it into growing berries… if there was need. Felis was debating the need when he noticed something amidst the branches. Something still and staring.

As he bent to gain a better view, it sprang. Brown fur, sharp fangs, a blur of claws scraping against Felis’ armour. The shock of it felled him more than the weight of the creature. Instinct made him throw it off. The thud and crack from the landing would have cheered any fighter… but he was not a fighter.

The small figure did not rise. It was… a child? A Bugbear, but also a child. Tiny, despite how large they were full-grown. Dressed in a loincloth and a blanket, armed with a knife that barely qualified. Also starving, injured, weak, and desperate.

“I’m sorry,” he said, doffing his cloak to wrap the child. “I didn’t know you needed.” Felis added a hare to the spit, and held the child close.

The little bugbear fought weakly, trying to resist Felis feeding them some broth from the cauldron. Until they realised that it was food and then struggled to gain more.

“Slowly, little one. You don’t want to burn yourself. Little sips.”

Bugbears must grow head first, since this one seemed to be all mouth and little of limb or body. They raised the knife once, and hesitated. “Why?” they said. “I’m weak and little. You’re not.”

“There’s more than one way to be strong,” soothed Felis. “There’s the way of the warm heart and accepting arms. I can teach you, if you like.”

The knife dropped from the child’s paw. “I’ll try it.”

Hands-On Learning (Sword Isles)
By Connor A.

The six-year-old Marcos stared at the small dragon within the glass. It was about the length of his hand from his middle finger to his wrist, yet the small sizzling hole in the floor next to Marcos was a warning to not underestimate it.

“You know you’ve been a troublemaker, right?”

It only stared at him.

“Eating Mercedes’ books, stealing Mama’s jewelry. Any of that ring a bell?”

It walked in a circle, then curled up in what Marcos could only assume was indifference to what he was saying. The child lied down on his stomach, not taking his eyes off the dragon for a second.

“You know, Mr. Vio told me a noble’s home and a Wyld Lord’s court are a lot alike.”

At the sound of the name, the dragon’s indifference turned to worry.

“I sometimes wonder if they also have to take Miss Ebony’s dance lessons.” Marcos shuddered at the thought. He saw the dragon copy the shudder and continued, “I don’t want Mama to make you take dance lessons, so can you stop causing trouble?”

The dragon nodded quickly. When Marcos lifted the glass, it wasted no time in scrambling to the closest open window, narrowly avoiding a figure that was trying to lean through. He looked back at Marcos with eyes just a bit too large for his face and a grin filled with sharp teeth.

“You are an odd one,” he said. “Even small dragons are hard to frighten.”

Marcos shrugged. “Dance lessons are scary for everyone, Mr. Vio.”

Vio chuckled and held up a fresh book. “So they are.” He placed it on the table under the window. “Read that by next week and then we’ll talk about what you learned. I have some business to attend to.”

“Wyld business?”

“You catch on quick.”

Without another word, the Wyld left. Marcos walked over and grabbed the book with a grin. Flipping through the pages revealed that it was a book on dragons. He found the chapter on finding dragon nests and began the search for his mother’s jewelry.