Author:
Gwenneth/Jeff/Angie
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Date Posted: 16:15:56 01/15/03 Wed
In reply to:
Alexis / Monet
's message, "Re: Morning" on 07:59:44 01/13/03 Mon
Gwenneveire stepped daintily into the sunlight and stretched, then nodded gravely at Monet's too-true words.
::Thankfully, his eyes have not begun to yellow,:: she remarked, turning her large ears to catch every distant hint of noise in the woods. ::But his skin has always been duskier than that of his family's, though it's not highly noticeable...:: She smiled, looking at Monet over her shoulder. ::His movements have always been quite catlike, however. Great reflexes, sharp vision, a keen sense of smell...:: She shook her head, still smiling, and turned in the direction of the children's hiding place. ::They will need a close eye, granted. But I think that you and I can handle that.::
---
"Dragons!" Jeff blinked rapidly. "But...but there's no such thing."
"Oh, yes there is!" Angie returned. "Thousands of dragons, stupid."
"Yeah?" The boy snorted skeptically. "And how would you know?"
Angie leaned forward, her pinched features relaxing into a devious grin. In the half-shadow of the cave, she looked like some lanky, fire-haired imp from the pages of a fantasy story. Jeff drew back slightly.
"I've been there," Angie whispered. "To one of their eyerie cities. I've sat in their golden nests, beside the crystal eggs. I've walked through the halls of the hollowed mountain they use as a communal treasure hoard... I've seen their fire blazing in the sky, boy, and I've been close enough to hear the beating of their hearts. They're real."
Jeff chuckled nervously, glancing at Alexis with wide eyes. "You...you can't be serious," he said uncertainly. "I mean, you're just a kid. Even if you're not making all of this up, how could you have done all that without being killed?"
Angie leaned back, smirking. "Very carefully," she replied.
Jeff shook his head, but his mind was awhirl with the strange, intriguing images of Angie's short speech. "Well, wherever we're going," he said with finality, "let's get out of the dirt."
"But I like the dirt!" he heard Angie protest jokingly as he crawled out into the early morning sun. The leaves were still soaking and he wiped his hands on his filthy pants, looking around with some trepidation at the dripping woods, hazy as the sun slanted through the moisture.
"Wish I had some clean clothes, though," he muttered, half to himself.
"Ah, wimp." Angie wrinkled her nose at him through a substantial layer of dirt and grime.
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