A Snap-Dragon Stolen Chapter 5: (part 1)

Eastern Weather-Turners: like the sea serpents, these dragons range wildly in size. They differ greatly in other aspects, however, as the weather-turners bear fur and whiskers on their snouts, feathered tails, front limbs, and ram-like horns. Weather-turners, as the name implies, are known for their ability to influence the weather, and legends tell of powerful dragons who even turned themselves into rivers.

Ever since the prior king’s death many, many years ago, the first full moon of the year had been a holiday for all staff and apprentices. And Lark, with her new, almost lucrative job, planned on making the most of her salary and free time.

As she strolled out of the post guild building, Lark took a deep breath and surveyed the colorful stalls and products spread out before her.

In stark contrast to the creamy plaster and wooden beams of the buildings, a rainbow of cloth coverings stretched over an equally diverse multitude of stands. Bright red apples glimmered from one corner, and across the square, racks of pastel dresses fluttered in the breeze.

For a moment, Lark considered buying one, but she shook her head, remembering that she would never have a chance to wear it. Ignoring how disheartening a fact that was, she smiled at Cadence and pointed to a building near the apple stand. A black iron sign with a pig’s silhouette hung over the door.

“What do you say we visit the butcher and get you a treat?” Lark asked, already walking towards the shop.

Cadence answered in a stream of song, clearly pleased with the idea. She bounded ahead, stretching her golden wings in the sunlight.

When Lark pulled open the butcher’s door, she set off a set of jangling entrance bells whose bright, tinkling sound cut through the small room and bounced off the walls. Immediately, Cadence set upon replicating the noise.

The butcher’s shop was so narrow it could have simply been a room built to block an old alleyway. In fact, Lark had seen a peek through the back door once, and she gathered that it probably had been an alley at some point. With the hanging pigs and poultry on one side, and the pink, fly-ridden tables on the other, the space was even more cramped.

Straight down the center, at the end of the room was the counter, and standing in front of it was a familiar, broad figure with a set of light blue loops coiled around one arm.

Lark stopped just in front of the door, letting it slam shut behind her and jingle again. “Waverly?” she called.

Waverly only turned her head enough to glance backwards, but the grin that stretched on her face was already wide enough for Lark to see.

“I see I’ve picked the right shop,” Waverly said. “If you’re here, I’m getting both a bargain and good meat.” She turned around fully and leaned back, hands clenched against the edge of the counter. Misty tightened around her left arm, stretching forward in aloof curiosity.

When Lark piqued one eyebrow in response, Waverly let out a chuckle, her belly laughing along with her.

“You’ve lived here for years, haven’t you?” Waverly asked. “I mean, if a local buys their meat here, doesn’t that mean it’s a good place? You know that’s what I’m trying to say.”

“Um, yes,” Lark said. Annoyance tinted her confusion. “I suppose so.” Feeling slightly uncomfortable, she took a few steps forward and appraised the pigs, trying to remember what her father used to do with theirs. That only strengthened the grimace painting her face, because it was her father’s predicament that sent her to the castle in the first place.

Cadence cooed softly, and Lark swiveled her gaze to the little dragon.

“I know. We’re only waiting for someone to come along so we can pick a cut and pay.”

That wasn’t Cadence’s main concern though, and the dragon whistled a folk song and turned her head away, pretending to be sated, but ruffling her wings haughtily, as though she’d been horribly offended. Lark wrinkled her lips and went back to examining the pigs.

A few seconds later, Waverly stepped forward. Hesitation sprouted in her footprint, and she swayed back a tiny bit, unsure of whether to act or not. Eyes drawn to the motion, Lark blinked at Waverly a few times, and Waverly gulped.

“Ah, um, Dorian told me not to say anything, but I thought it was kind of rude of him to not warn you earlier, so I guess I should tell you now.”

“What?” More than anything else, Lark was confused on how Waverly had come onto this subject. It had nothing to do with meat and butchers.

Another gulp followed, and Lark refrained from asking further.

“Dorian wants to challenge you to a duel.” Waverly said it fast, the words melting into one another. She averted her gaze and let it rest on a headless bird strung up by its feet, the feathers stripped off and the flesh pastel pink.

It took a moment of brow-furrowing and thinking for Lark to comprehend, and when she did, she flung up her head, which she’d lowered to rest on one hand.

“Dorian is challenging me?” she asked.

Waverly nodded, eyes wide, and Misty slithered further down her arm to hide her head and frills.

“To a full competition duel? With points and everything?”

Another nod.

Lark wasn’t sure what to think, or say, or do. Cringing, she rubbed the back of her neck, wishing that wisps would not stray from her bun all the time and wondering if she should ask why Dorian wanted a duel, even if she knew the answer already. Then the question bumbled from her mouth, and the internal debate ended.

“Why?” she breathed.

Waverly shrugged, her blonde curls falling further over her shoulders, and Misty uncurled enough so that Lark could see her.

“Dorian never said, and I really don’t think I can guess this one, because he never said much about your uh, relationship outside of referencing an old friend. Sorry.”

A moment of silence draped over the space, crushing the space into a tiny dot. The door behind the counter squealed open then, and a thick man with his sleeves rolled up and stained pink crashed into the room. His bushy beard and eyebrows covered any notion that he felt the stiffness of the air.

“Morning, Lark,” he said, dropping the consonants at the end of each word. His words were muffled and gruff, and low, but Waverly, who wasn’t even used to his way of speaking, seemed to understand his following question about orders just perfectly.

“I want a whole pig, please,” she said. “And don’t listen to a word Lark says after me, because we’re sharing it with some other friends, and don’t worry about a thing because I can carry it myself.”

The butcher sent Lark a look of confusion and probably attempted to pull an exasperated face, but his hair covered it. Lark only sighed and looked at Cadence, who pranced up and down, likely wondering if there would be a party.

As it turned out, there would be. The moment Lark and Waverly stepped out of the butcher shop’s door, Waverly raced ahead, calling over her free shoulder for Lark to follow. Over the other shoulder, she’d slung the pig, and it bounced and rattled with her gait.

“Come along, Lark!” Waverly yelled. Even if there was a crowd that morning, her voice could never be drowned out. “We should make preparations for the duel! Show Dorian some lady power!”

Lark considered abandoning the other girl, but Cadence had already shot through the open square, wings stretched up. Then the dragon leaped into the air, flapped a powerful downward stroke, and was suddenly airborne, riding on a breeze that trickled through the streets. Lark’s breath hitched as she watched Cadence rise into the pocket of blue sky between the buildings.

Cadence was a golden kite, glittering with every beat of her wings. She could blind the sun and flit with butterflies a second later.

It was a rare sight, Cadence flying, but Lark forced herself to look down the street and run after Waverly, training her eyes on golden curls rather than golden wings.