Young Writers Society

Anxious villagers packed the field, murmuring, “It’s a dragon!” All but Titus- he eyed the field’s dimensions, wondering if there’d be room to accommodate a dragon.

Easily four and a half feet long, the visitor stood favoring one foreleg. “Give her room.” Titus raised a hand; people scattered like sheep facing a wolf. He strode towards the visitor and offered his palm.

She sniffed it, then flicked out a thin forked tongue. “You’re a smith, aren’t you?”

He didn’t so much hear the words as see an image of a forge in his mind. “That’s right. How are you called?”

“Alaira,” she replied. “Is there a healer or a priest in town? It’s urgent.” This time the images came thick and fast: a male dragon, glimpse of dense woods and a spring…

“Is it so urgent that you had to almost kill yourself? Abel will see to your friend. In the meantime, rest yourself.”

Alaira’s deep-copper eyes blinked. She lowered herself to the ground, stretching out her left foreleg

I love the idea. I'm a big fantasy fan.

Just one thing: I need descriptions!

What does Titus look like? What do the fields look like? What is the weather like? What does Titus feel as he approaches Alaira? What does Alaira look like?

Description! Please! I want it dripping with imagery. I want to SEE what's happening as I read.

WRITE MORE This is a great foundation, now make it glorious.

Keep me updated.

~Hayden

I also agree that it could use more description. Your story has the potential to be and I really like the idea!! Here are a few things that I found that could make it a little better. By all means, if you don’t agree, ignore me. I don’t mind.

Anxious villagers packed the field, murmuring, “It’s a dragon!” All but Titus. He eyed the field’s dimensions, wondering if there’d be room to accommodate a dragon.
Easily four and a half feet long, the visitor stood, favoring one foreleg.
“Give her room.”
Titus raised a hand and the people scattered like sheep facing a wolf. He strode towards the visitor and offered his palm.
She sniffed it, and then flicked out a thin forked tongue. “You’re a smith, aren’t you?”
He didn’t so much hear the words as see an image of a forge in his mind. “That’s right. What are you called?”
“Alaira,” she replied. “Is there a healer or a priest in town? It’s urgent.” This time the images came thick and fast: a male dragon, glimpse of dense woods and a spring…
“Is it so urgent that you had to almost kill yourself? I feel like you could put a pause here, or like separate it before continuing on. It makes for more dramatic questioning. Abel will see to your friend. In the meantime, rest yourself.”
Alaira’s deep-copper eyes blinked. She lowered herself to the ground, stretching out her left foreleg.