“Excellent story and great characters…”

an excerpt from

The Last Dragon Home

by Glenn T. Ryan

 

Chapter 1

‘Come on, Mollie. It’s time to go.’

‘I really don’t feel like it. Can’t I stay home?’

Esmae frowned at her daughter. ‘No, you’re not old enough to stay here by yourself. What if a group of bandits came to rob us? What would you do?’

Mollie looked around the bare cottage. ‘What would they take? Two chairs, a table, the mirror that isn’t big enough to see your whole face in? I doubt whether they’d be able to lift our beds.’

‘That’s not the point. I wouldn’t care if they did take what we own. I would worry about you the whole time I was at the fair. Maybe if you’d let me teach you some more magic?’

‘Not that again, Esmae. I already know enough to get by.’

‘Well, you don’t know one tenth of the amount required to stay home by yourself. Maybe that should be a lesson to you. Now grab your coat and let’s go. Bring a scarf as well. And one more thing…’

‘Yes?’

‘Since when did you start calling me Esmae?’

Mollie Adkins smiled at her mother and followed her out the door.

For a long time they scrunched along the dirt path that would take them to the main road, pulling their coats tighter around them as they marched. The stars were clear overhead, and the moon was the thinnest sliver of yellow. The wind found the smallest holes in their clothes and whispered through to their skin.

‘Why don’t we buy a horse, Esmae?’ Mollie asked as she huffed along.

‘You know why.’

‘Yes, but wouldn’t it be good for times like this? No walking everywhere. We’d be at Gibbon by now.’

‘I thought you didn’t want to go to the fair anyway. Now you’re telling me you want to get there faster. Look, we’re at the crossroads already.’

Mollie didn’t answer. She stood in awe as carriage after carriage passed her by, all heading north along the main road.

She had never seen so many horses before; each of them was magnificent in stature. Every single noble, peasant and merchant in the surrounding villages of Danmurk Shire snaked their way to Gibbon, passing close to Mollie. She smelled the musty horses and gawked at the painted carriages they pulled.

‘Keep going, Mollie,’ said her mother. ‘It’s impolite to stare.’

The two joined the line and weaved their way along the road. Heads down they marched, until Mollie’s calf muscles began to ache with the endless walk. Her mother was about to tell her not to lag when a voice called out to them from a nearby cart.

‘Hoy, you ladies.’

Mollie and Esmae stopped and turned. A small carriage drawn by a single steed pulled alongside them.

‘You two wanna lift? Save yer legs?’

The driver of the cart was a thin, pink-faced man who had blond stubble poking recklessly from his cheeks.

‘Yes!’ Mollie said.

‘Ah, do you know who we are?’ Esmae asked in complete surprise.

The driver rubbed the front of his nose.

‘Yeah. S’pose you an yer young’un are the Witches of Danmurk … right?’

‘We have been called such things.’

The driver shrugged his shoulders. ‘Not my fault if Danmurk is full of superstitious tookers—’ He stopped short, eyeing Mollie. ‘Er, people.’

‘Very well. Thank you. As long as you keep minding your language.’ Esmae ignored the driver’s hand and instead turned to help Mollie on the rear of the cart before gracefully climbing on herself.

‘Name’s Terry, by the way,’ the driver announced with a yellow-toothed smile.

No one answered.

They rode in silence. Soon, an expensive looking carriage tried to pass them. It came close enough for Mollie to see inside. She smiled when she saw the family within had two boys her own age.

‘Hello,’ she called across.

The passengers glanced over to see who was greeting them. They saw Mollie’s grinning face, her glinting blue eyes and her waves of hair that were blacker than the night sky. They took in her face and the light dusting of freckles on her high cheeks.

They also saw Esmae, who looked almost identical to Mollie except that her hair was in a bun and her eyes were lined with small wrinkles—no freckles either.

They were unmistakable.

The boys went pale with fright and crouched below the window. The boys’ father slid the curtains shut and their mother urged the driver to speed up. They passed quickly—no one dared look back.

‘See, Esmae! That’s why I should have stayed home.’

‘Never mind,’ Esmae whispered, rubbing her daughter’s cheek. ‘Why don’t you try talking to the horse?’

Mollie shrugged and closed her eyes.

‘Hello,’ she spoke into the animal’s mind.

Suddenly the cart jerked and swayed, causing Terry to hoy and howl and reach for his stash of sugar cubes to calm his horse.

‘Don’t be frightened. I won’t hurt you,’ Mollie said as she gripped the armrest to keep from falling.

The beast blew fiercely through its nose and tried to turn its head to face her. ‘How can I hear you with my head and not with my ears?’ he demanded.

‘It’s something I’ve always been able to do,’ Mollie answered in a soothing voice. ‘Please don’t be scared.’

‘I thought only animals knew how to talk to each other like this!’

Mollie could hear his voice inside her head, deep and gruff. ‘Some humans can too. Not many though—actually, just mother and me. What is your name?’

The horse was silent for a while.

‘Bramble,’ he answered. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk while I’m working. My master wouldn’t like it.’

‘He seems nice though,’ Mollie replied. ‘Except he smells like old wine.’

‘He is nice. I guess I don’t like the idea of talking to you. It’s not natural.’

‘What harm is there in talking? I know it’s not much further to town, but we can pass the time by chatting. Have you ever been to Gibbon before?’

The horse said nothing.

‘I said have you ever been to Gibbon before?’

Still no answer.

Mollie flopped back in her seat and shook her head at her mother.

‘Never mind,’ said Esmae, patting her daughter’s shoulder. ‘You’ll meet lots of other teenagers tonight. They will talk to you.’

‘We both know that’s a lie.’

Esmae took a deep breath to argue, but then stopped herself and sighed.

‘True. But there are a few items I need from the fair and I couldn’t leave you at home alone. So I tell you what—how about we try to have fun? No matter what other children—or horses—say. We can just pretend they don’t exist. We can roam around the fair like we own it. How does that sound?’

In the distance, Mollie could see several massive fires burning on Gibbon’s fairground. Around the big fires came the smaller glow of nearly one hundred lanterns dangling from wooden posts. She could faintly hear a mix of laughter, excited squeals, voices selling cheap tickets for sideshow games and hawkers hollering for business.

‘You’re right. I say we do it,’ said Mollie and gave her mother a wink. ‘Watch out Gibbon, the Witches of Danmurk are coming!’

Chapter 2

The lights were getting brighter.

The wind blew the smells of exotic meals and cooked meat to Mollie’s nose.

Her anticipation mounted with each clop of Bramble’s hoofs, until at last, they entered the wooden gates of the Gibbon Fair.

It was more wondrous than Mollie had thought possible, and she was at once glad that Esmae had forced her to come. There were stalls selling fabrics and lace, stores selling delicious rare food, and there were sideshows.

‘Not so bad after all?’ Esmae asked, raising her voice to be heard.

‘I guess not. It would be better if there weren’t so many people.’

‘You’ll be fine. Here’s a few coins. Have fun, and I’ll meet you back here in an hour.’

Mollie slowly walked off and found the part of the fair with the fewest children. She spied a game where the player had to throw a small hoop around a pole. It didn’t cost much, and the main prize was a silver bracelet with a delicate heart-shaped charm.

Mollie stared at it and thought about how lovely it would be to own something as precious as jewellery. She imagined it in the empty top drawer of her bedside table, shining against the bare wood.

She paid the attendant and threw her hoop. It went spinning off to the left of the pole, nowhere near the target.

The attendant, a large woman with a mole on her forehead, laughed at Mollie’s throw. ‘You’ll have to do better than that!’ she squawked.

Not to be outdone, Mollie paid for another turn.

The lady hastily grabbed the money with a dirty paw and stepped back to watch.

When Mollie held the hoop this time, she noticed it felt much heavier on one side. It had been weighted to cheat the player out of a fair throw.

Two can cheat at this game, Mollie thought as she focused. She let her mind reach out and touch the elements around her. For an instant she heard her mother’s voice in her head. We never use magic for personal gain, Mollie. Her eyes went back to the bracelet.

She quickly looked around to make sure no one was watching, then swung the hoop through the air. As she did this, she let her mind feel for the elements around her. Esmae called this gathering. She gathered air together to make small currents of wind to keep the hoop flying straight. At the right instant, she used the earth’s power to pull the soaring ring downward.

Shooomp, spin, spin, spin.

The hoop lay flat on the ground, the pole standing proudly in its centre.

The attendant put a chubby hand over her mouth. ‘A direct hit! No one’s ever done that before!’

‘Can I play again?’ Mollie asked in a sweet voice as she took the bracelet and slipped it over her wrist.

At that moment, a small family approached the stall—Mollie recognised them as having passed her earlier when she and her mother rode in Terry’s cart.

The father spoke quietly to the hoop lady, whose eyes widened and fixed on Mollie.

‘No more games for you,’ she barked when the father had finished speaking to her. ‘Once you win you can’t play again. Now go away before I box your ears.’

Word spread quickly through the fair that there was a girl with blue eyes and black hair who could cheat at the games.

Every time Mollie tried to win a prize at a stall, she was ignored or told to go away.

Her money sat useless in her hand. The coins felt like cold, heavy stones.

Everywhere she went, people stared at her. She could see them making way for her; parents were pulling children in the opposite direction. Not one would meet her eyes.

Mollie rubbed her eyes with her sleeve and decided to look for Esmae. But everywhere she looked, there were more people, whispering, pointing. She wanted to call for her mother at the top of her lungs so she could go home, but instead, Mollie turned and ran to the back of the fair.

She sat down on a rock and breathed heavily, hiding her face in her hands and wishing her mother had just let her stay home.

She stayed that way for a few minutes then heard someone calling to her. She slowly looked up. At the back of the showground, tucked away in a corner and surrounded by a knot of children, was a large painted van. On it was a picture of a ferocious looking dragon and a dazzling pink unicorn.

A sign above read:

CUDGEL’S WONDERS: WHITESTAFF AND WENDY

‘Come and see the mythical beasts,’ called a short, bald man. ‘Only one gold coin to look.’

Mollie crept hesitantly over to him. ‘Are they real?’ she asked.

He looked down at her and wiped his thick black moustache. He had a large stomach and eyes the size of peas. ‘Of course they are, yer dimwitted child! Give ol’ Cudgel a gold coin and see for yourself.’

‘Here you are,’ she said. ‘It’s not like I can spend it anywhere else.’

Cudgel took the money with glee and pointed her to a large, barricaded wagon.

‘The only way to see ’em is from up there. Walk up that plank and look down into the enclosure. You’ll see the marvellous beasts for yerself. Next!’

Mollie walked over to the walkway and followed it up and onto a viewing platform. From this raised level she could see down through the barred roof of the wagon.

The structure was divided into halves by a walkway. One side contained Wendy, the unicorn. Her enclosure was no bigger than Mollie’s bedroom. There was straw on the ground and a trough that contained little water. The windows were boarded over so no one could sneak a free peek at the mysterious creatures.

Mollie focused on Wendy. It was instantly obvious to her that she was not looking at a unicorn. All she saw was a painted horse that had a paper cone stuck to its forehead with white, gummy glue.

Mollie felt sorry for the horse. The only view she would have had from inside the barred cage would have been the sky above or the opposite enclosure, which was identical in size and shape.

‘Your master must be very cruel to dress you up like that,’ Mollie said to the horse.

‘What do you mean, child? Dress me up like what?’ Wendy’s voice answered inside Mollie’s head.

‘You know, paint you pink and stick that silly thing on your head.’

‘Well, I never!’ squealed Wendy in reply. ‘Are you insinuating I am not a real unicorn?’

‘It does look like—’

‘Look like what? You have never seen anything as beautiful as me. You’ve never seen anything so—AHHHHHHH.’

The horse screeched and bucked. ‘The butterflies!’ she yelled. ‘They’ve come for me again.’

Mollie watched aghast as Wendy threw herself into a blind rage. The horse kicked through the bars and barged the walls with her shoulder. She chuffed and whinnied and made a horrible commotion.

‘Stop!’ Mollie pleaded. ‘You’ll hurt yourself!’

‘Don’t mind her,’ a soft voice whispered in Mollie’s brain.

Mollie’s eyes searched for the speaker. ‘Where are you?’

‘Over here. In the other cage.’

Mollie looked down toward the room opposite Wendy, and there, lying on a straw bed, was what Mollie guessed to be a dragon.

‘She thinks magic butterflies come to steal her beauty when she’s not looking. She also thinks she’s the last unicorn on Earth.’ The dragon’s voice was husky and faint.

‘Well… She is definitely unique,’ Mollie replied.

‘Well put. Very tactful.’

Mollie smiled at him.

‘My name is Whitestaff. But I guess you know that already from my picture on my master’s van.’

‘Yes. My name is Mollie.’

‘I know I don’t look much; most children who come to see me are very disappointed. They expect a larger, more ferocious looking animal, don’t they?’

Mollie didn’t know where to look.

‘I guess so.’

‘Don’t be embarrassed, human. I know only too well. I’m so weak I can hardly lift my head. I only wish I slightly resembled that proud looking dragon in the painting, not a miserable lump of white scales. Then I’d give them a show.’

At the finish of his sentence, Whitestaff broke into a coughing fit. Mollie waited patiently for him to finish.

‘Where do you come from? Why are you so sick?’ she asked.

‘I don’t really know. I have an idea, but it’s a long story. While we are asking questions, why can you talk to animals?’

‘Well,’ she said. ‘My family is a bit … different.’

Whitestaff narrowed his gaze on Mollie and sniffed the air.

‘Yes, I can see that right enough.’

Chapter 3

‘I’m not a witch if that’s what you’re thinking, though everybody calls me one. I don’t have warts and I don’t have a cauldron.’

‘No, that’s not it at all. I smell something about you. Something special…’

‘I’m a sorceress,’ Mollie continued over the top of him. ‘Not a witch. The two are very different.’

In the opposite cage, Wendy had calmed herself and began slurping water from her trough.

‘You smell good to me. Like strawberries and sugar.’

‘Thank you, Wendy.’

‘What for? Who are you? Aren’t I the prettiest unicorn in the world?’ Wendy asked, looking at her reflection in the trough water, already forgetting the first two questions.

‘Are you saying you know magic?’ the dragon asked in his rustling whisper.

‘I know some,’ said Mollie. ‘But I wish I didn’t.’

‘That seems strange to me. If I knew magic, I would be out of here in a flash.’

‘Yes, but when you know magic, no one will talk to you. They avoid you and make up stories about you. You can never have any friends. It’s terrible.’

‘No one talks to me anyway, except Wendy, and she… well…’

The two looked over to Wendy, who was singing to her reflection.

‘Yes, well it’s different when you’re a girl. I’ve never had one friend in my life. Except my mother, I suppose.’

‘How many do you think I’ve had, human?’

Mollie’s face fell. ‘None.’

‘That’s right. It looks like you and I are in the same boat. The only difference is you don’t have a cage.’

‘You poor thing! Can’t you get out somehow?’

‘No. I’m too weak to walk even a few steps. And believe me, I’ve tried. But I have managed something, see. I’ve made a peephole in the wood here so I can look out. If only I were small enough to squeeze through.’

‘Is there anything I can do?’

Whitestaff thought for a moment then his face brightened.

‘Why, yes there is! The voices! You’ll probably be able to hear the voices.’

‘What voices?’ Mollie looked over to Wendy, then back to the dragon.

‘No, no, no. I’m not mad. These voices are real, right enough. I can hear them now. Listen.’

Mollie obeyed and strained her ears.  She thought she could hear something through the hubbub of the fair. She listened for a moment more, but the sounds faded.

‘I can hear them calling me. Other dragons maybe? Calling through the night.’

‘I thought I could hear something,’ Mollie offered.

‘I’m not surprised,’ Whitestaff replied. ‘You really are fantastic.’

‘You don’t think I’m bad, or… weird?’

‘Definitely not! I think you are the most wonderful human I have met!’

‘What about me?’ Wendy demanded, rejoining the conversation.

Whitestaff gave her a smile. ‘You are lovely too, Wendy.’

‘I think you two are both great,’ Mollie blurted. She couldn’t wait to tell her mother she had finally made some friends.

‘All right, girlie. That’s long enough.’

Cudgel’s voice made them both jump. He was standing at the bottom of the platform with the lady from the hoops game at his side.

The lady jabbed her round elbow in Cudgel’s mid-section and whispered something.

‘All right, Audrey, all right,’ Cudgel said to the woman. He turned back to Mollie. ‘Get down I said.’

‘Just a minute longer, please sir. I only just got up.’

Cudgel looked to the woman beside him and the two began to whisper to each other.

Glad for the distraction, Mollie quickly turned back to the dragon.

‘What do you want me to do? Tell me fast.’

‘Look inside Cudgel’s van for anything strange or unusual. I need to know where those voices are coming from and why. They might hold the key—’

‘Hurry up girlie, or Audrey and I will come up and drag you down by the hair.’

Mollie looked down and saw Cudgel beginning to climb up towards her, his face red and sweaty despite the cool night air.

‘Fine, I’m coming,’ she said, and quickly made her way down.

Mollie rushed past Cudgel’s groping hands and back towards the nearest crowd. She mingled in with the people and decided to watch Cudgel and the hoop woman from a safe distance.

Audrey appeared fussed about something. She was waving her arms and pointing.

She’s still angry I won at her stupid game, Mollie thought.

Cudgel was shrugging his shoulders and wiping his moustache. Every now and then he would shake his head and chuckle. The woman stomped off after the exchange and Cudgel began crying out for business again.

What do I do now? Mollie asked herself.

Chapter 4

Back in his cage, Whitestaff wondered the same thing: What do I do now?

On four shaky legs, he managed to stand briefly, walk a few steps, and then collapse in a huffing heap.

It’s useless. There is nothing I can do.

‘Dragon,’ a voice called to him through the dark, ‘make your way home. Join us once again.’

Whitestaff lifted his head to listen.

‘I want to,’ he said aloud, ‘but I don’t know how.’

‘Come home… Come home… Be with your own kind.’

‘I’m trying to, but I’m trapped. I’m not strong enough to get out.’ Whitestaff’s tone was pleading and helpless. ‘Why can’t you hear me?’

‘Come home, dear dragon. We need you here.’ This time it was a female voice that beckoned.

Whitestaff tried fruitlessly to stand again. He struggled with his legs and beat his tiny wings until he could no longer move.

The voice began to fade.

‘Don’t go,’ he wailed.

But it was too late. The calling had stopped.

‘What are you doing, dragon?’ Wendy asked from her bed of straw.

‘Nothing, Wendy. Go back to sleep.’

‘How can I sleep with you making that terrible noise? What’s the matter?’

‘Just tired, Wendy. It’s been a difficult day.’

‘Were you calling that girl back? She’s great, don’t you think?’

Whitestaff nodded. ‘Yes, she certainly is special. I bet she could have helped too. Never mind.’

‘Helped what? Don’t tell me you’re trying to escape again. I thought you gave up on that idea.’

‘I had. Until I saw Mollie, that is. For a second there I thought I had a chance. I finally found someone who could help. Did you hear those voices before?’

Whitestaff waited for Wendy’s answer. He got a soft snoring sound instead.

Who are they, those voices that keep calling me? Why am I here? Am I the only dragon alive? Where did I come from? These questions repeated themselves in his mind as they so often did.

In his earliest memory, Whitestaff was surrounded by trees. He could hear birds whistling and insects zooming past his ears.

He was hungry, but he couldn’t move. None of his muscles worked. Then, as the light faded from the day, he heard footsteps.

Crunch, crunch.

Somebody, or something, was coming closer to him. It was a human: a man. Whitestaff felt a sharp stick prod his soft scales. He gave a small gasp of pain. The man then picked him up and carried him to a barn, fed him, and gave him water. The next day the man stuck him in a cage. He had been Cudgel’s prisoner ever since. Most of that time had been spent alone, until a few years ago, when Cudgel painted Wendy.

At first Whitestaff was relieved he had been found and fed. His relief didn’t last for long though.

One day Cudgel tried to make Whitestaff do tricks. He figured that rather than show an ordinary dragon that just lay there, he’d make more money showing off a dragon that could stand on its head, or balance on one leg.

Of course, Whitestaff couldn’t even stand properly, let alone do somersaults, so Cudgel would often get very mad.

‘What’s the use of yer?’ he’d shout. ‘Useless bag of bones, yer are. I feed yer and water yer, and yer just lie there!’

Following this speech, Cudgel would poke the dragon with his stick, digging in the sharp end between Whitestaff’s scales.

Cudgel gave up after a few wasted months, but the scratches from that dreadful stick remained.

Back in his cage, the dragon gave a shudder.

Don’t think about it, he told himself. Not this close to sleep anyway.

Whitestaff scratched a niche in his straw, ready to doze at last, when he heard a noise.

‘Psst.’

He waited silently for a minute or two, then shook his head and rested it down on the straw.

‘Psst. Whitestaff, it’s me, Mollie.’

This time the dragon knew the sound was real and his head shot back up. He smiled at the familiar voice.

‘Mollie! You came back.’

The girl was wedged between a large tree and the outside wall of Whitestaff’s enclosure. She’d waited until Cudgel was attending a customer then stealthily cut behind him and into her hiding place.

The man would never look in her direction because he was only interested in guarding the viewing platform, not the area around the cage. Why would he look for people on the ground when no one could see inside from there, only from above?

Mollie, however, didn’t need to see the dragon or the unicorn to speak to them. She merely had to be close.

‘Of course I came back,’ she said. ‘Didn’t I tell you that I was going to help?’

Whitestaff brightened at her touching words. ‘You did indeed.’

‘Well, this is what friends do,’ the young girl insisted. ‘They help each other.’

‘I’m sorry for doubting you, Mollie. It’s just I’ve never had anyone count me as a friend before, unless you count Wendy.’

‘Me neither,’ Mollie admitted. ‘But I’m sure you would help me the same way, right?’

The dragon answered straight away. ‘Yes, I would. I definitely would.’

‘Well, tell me what you want me to do again. What about those voices?’

The beast took a deep breath. ‘I think the voices I hear are coming from Cudgel’s van—the one with the painting of me and Wendy on the side.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Well, I want you to find the source of the voices. Find out who is calling me and why. Can you do it?’ His words came out in a rush.

Mollie’s legs and stomach shivered with excitement. ‘You bet,’ she said.

And with that, she crept away.

Chapter 5

By now it was getting late. Parents were taking their yawning children away from the dazzling fires of the Gibbon Fair and into the less interesting night. The din was dissolving, and the smells of the fair were being carried away by a frigid wind. Everything was slowing down. Most of the stalls were being packed away, but some were giving last customers a chance to test their skill.

‘Leaving so early?’ Cudgel called as the people left. ‘Why not spend yer last few coins on a once in a lifetime spectacle. Roll up and see Cudgel’s Wonders.’

Mollie’s long black hair was perfect for hiding in the night. She teased the strands and let her locks fall about her, hoping they would provide her with some camouflage.

There was about a twenty-yard gap between her and the brightly painted residence of Cudgel.

Mollie took a sharp breath and held it while she scurried over to the rear of the van. The first twenty paces went by in a blur, but the last ten took forever.

She could see Cudgel out of the corner of her eye. He was trying to convince some more people to part with their gold and was about to turn around and point out the enclosure. He began to turn his body in her direction. Five yards to go and he was nearly facing her, two yards and she could see the side of his face, one yard and Mollie dived behind the large wooden wheel attached to the van. Once there, she slowly let out her breath.

She waited for Cudgel to shout out, or worse, to run over and catch her, but he didn’t.

She was safe. For now.

With her back pressing firmly against the thick spokes, Mollie turned her head and looked for a door or a window. She found one of each. The door was closed and padlocked, but the shutters on the window were open a fraction.

Mollie tiptoed over to the shutters and pulled them back as gently as she could manage.

The left shutter gave an awful screech, so she left it alone. The right one was stiff but silent, so she pulled it out as far as it would go and poked her head inside.

The first thing she noticed was the stench. The smell was a blend of rotting fish and stale bread.

Mollie wrinkled her nose in disgust.

It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom. She could see a table with only one chair, a dinner plate with scraps still on it and a heavy-looking chest that was clamped shut with a sturdy lock.

The most peculiar thing in the van was a giant egg sitting on a furry mat.

Mollie could see it had been broken in half, a sign that something large had hatched out of it years ago. The egg’s surface was gold, flecked with a deep green. But the strangest thing was that in the middle of the egg, was a floating mist, like a sphere of hovering dew, with a rainbow of colours shimmering through it.

Mollie gaped in wonder.

I bet this has something to do with those voices. I have to tell Whitestaff!

She ducked back to her wheel and peeped through the spokes. Where is he? Mollie thought when she couldn’t see Cudgel. Oh well. Better hurry before he comes back.

Mollie made a mad dash over to her hiding spot between the tree and the mobile barn.

‘I saw it,’ she said, brimming with excitement.

‘What was it?’ asked the dragon.

‘It was an egg—a gorgeous, broken egg with a kind of watery ball floating in it.’

The dragon thought about this.

‘Are you sure, Mollie? Do you think that’s where the voices are coming from?’

‘I’m positive. It was really the only thing in the whole van,’ she said. ‘Apart from a bad smell.’

‘I must see it for myself,’ Whitestaff said. ‘The voices keep telling me to come home, so the egg must have something to do with getting there. Don’t you think?’

‘Yes, I’m sure you’ll know what to do when you see it. It looks magical and wonderful.’

Whitestaff nodded to himself.

‘Mollie,’ he said. ‘Do you think that, um, it is my egg?’

‘What do you mean?’

The dragon looked up at the moon for a moment, lost in thought. ‘Well,’ he said presently, ‘maybe it’s the egg I came out of. Maybe Cudgel kept it.’

‘Yes. You could be right. Do dragons come from eggs?’

‘I guess so. I can’t remember being around other dragons. I must have come out of the egg, alone.’

In the distance, the sounds of the fair were all but gone, and the chirping of crickets was louder.

‘I have to get near that egg, Mollie,’ the dragon said. ‘If I have to be locked up in here for much longer, I’ll go crazy. I’ll begin to believe in the magic butterflies Wendy sees.’ Whitestaff paused for a while and gave a deep sigh. ‘Plus I’ll never see you again, either.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Mollie.

‘Cudgel will take me to another town soon, to another fair. We only stay in the one place for a day or two. I expect we’ll leave at sunrise, or a bit after.’

Mollie realised he was right. Her insides suddenly went heavy and her face sagged.

‘Just when I find someone who’ll talk to me,’ she whispered.

At that moment something yanked the hair on the back of her skull so hard her head snapped backwards.

‘Gotcha, yer little mullytill!’ a voice shouted from behind her.

It was Cudgel who had grabbed her and swore.

‘What the Latos do yer think yer doing?’ he shouted, his mouth right next to her ear. ‘Trying to steal my animals no doubt!’

Mollie was too petrified and in too much pain to answer. She couldn’t even shake her head.

Cudgel didn’t care anyway. He was pulling her towards his van, yelling and cursing all the way.

Chapter 6

Mollie became suddenly aware that nobody was around—everyone had left the grounds and all the fires had been put out.

Mollie felt like she was having one of those nightmares where it’s impossible to wake up or scream. She tried to yell once, but her lungs seemed to have no air in them so only a rasp came out. The van was getting closer, and Cudgel’s grip was getting tighter.

She took a deep breath, ready to squeal as loudly as she could, then wham!

They hit something very tough.

Cudgel fell to the ground and rolled like a large ball. Mollie spilled out of his grasp and smashed her new bracelet on a rock.

What was that? She looked up to see her mother.

Esmae stood over the two. Her face was grim and her jaw was set tight.

‘Just what do you think you are doing, manhandling my girl like that?’ she demanded.

Cudgel was slow to regain his wits. ‘Where did you come from?’ he asked groggily.

Instantly, Esmae was three inches from his face, without appearing to have moved her body.

Cudgel took a frantic step back.

‘Answer my question,’ Mollie’s mother commanded; her voice was poisonous.

‘S-she,’ he pointed to Mollie, ‘was near the, um, the, um… my creatures,’ he finished.

‘Did she pay you?’ asked Esmae, moving closer to the back-stepping man.

Mollie had never seen her mother like this. Sure she’d seen her angry before, like whenever Mollie gave cheek when she was younger, but this was something else. Her mother was moving like a sleek cat, ready to maim her prey.

‘Yeh-h, s-she paid.’

‘WELL?’ Esmae yelled.

But Cudgel didn’t answer. He was cowering on the ground, unable to move. Mollie knew why.

Her mother was using a powerful magic on him. She made the earth suck the little man to the ground with enormous gravity, but that was not all. Mollie could see Esmae blending fire and water to create an energy blast that would blow Cudgel to the other end of the showground if it hit him.  She was poised to deliver the magical blow when a speaker interrupted, and the beam of energy disappeared into the air.

‘Are you ladies all right?’

Mollie looked over and saw Terry, the man who had generously allowed her and her mum to ride with him to the fair.

Nobody spoke for a while then Esmae said, ‘Yes, we are fine.’ She released Cudgel from her invisible hold. ‘Come on, Mollie.’

Mollie ran over and took her mother’s hand.

When Cudgel realised he was free, he unleashed a torrent of abuse, calling Esmae and her daughter witches and mullytills, and promising that someday they’d pay.

Esmae shot him such a threatening look that Cudgel scampered back to his van, his stumpy legs almost blurring with speed.

‘What was that about, my ladies?’ Terry asked, clearly puzzled.

‘Just a misunderstanding, that’s all.’ Esmae turned to her daughter, ‘Are you fine?’

‘Yes, Esmae.’

‘No you’re not, you’re shaking. Come here.’ Esmae took Mollie in her arms and held her until she was still.

‘Listen, I’m heading back to Danmurk,’ Terry said. ‘I could drop you off home on the way if you like.’

Esmae gave her daughter a soft kiss on her forehead.

‘That would be lovely. Thank you, Terry.’

Terry took Esmae’s arm and led the two to his small cart.

This time, Esmae allowed Terry to help her on.

The two chatted away, making small talk while Mollie listened, her head resting on her mother’s shoulder.

‘You two really should get yerselves a horse,’ Terry said. ‘Not that I mind givin’ you a ride at all, just the opposite.’

‘Mollie would agree with you there, Terry. She was saying that very thing on our way to the fair. Maybe we should get one after all, if we can save enough. It is a good idea.’

‘Why is it a good idea if someone else says it?’ Mollie asked.

‘Now, Mollie, don’t be rude. As I was saying, Terry…’

Mollie rolled her eyes and decided not to listen to the rest.

She looked to the starlit sky and saw a large group of bats flying silently overhead. The bats made her think of Whitestaff and how much he would love to fly free in the night sky.

Sorry I couldn’t help, Whitestaff.

After a long time travelling, they arrived at the intersection of the road that would lead the two Adkins women home.

Chapter 7

‘Well, goodnight ladies,’ Terry said as he slowed the cart to a halt.

‘Goodnight, Terry,’ Esmae said.

‘Night,’ mumbled Mollie.

‘You’re welcome to stop by for dinner anytime you like, Terry,’ Esmae added.

Mollie’s eyes went wide, as did Terry’s.

‘That’d be lovely, Esmae,’ he said. ‘I just might do that. And by the way, I only live a step away from here, in the house with the red coloured roof. So if you ever need anything,’ he winked at Esmae, ‘you’ve only to ask.’

‘Come on, mother,’ Mollie said, yanking the older woman’s arm. ‘I’m tired.’

‘I bet you are. Thank you, Terry. You are quite the gentleman.’

‘Not a problem. Hoy, Bramble, let’s get home ourselves.’

The horse nodded politely to Mollie as if apologising for his former rude behaviour, then clopped off. Mollie and her mother watched them until they were out of sight.

‘I was so scared when I saw that man grab you,’ Esmae said as soon as they began the walk home.

‘Me too.’

‘Why was he mad with you, daughter?’

For the rest of the journey Mollie told her mother about Wendy and Whitestaff, the voices calling him and the egg she had found. Her mother listened and didn’t interrupt once, unless it was to ask for more details or for clarification.

The story finished as the two neared their small cottage in the woods.

Inside, Esmae lit some candles and Mollie scrubbed her teeth with soot from the fireplace. They both sat on Mollie’s bed and talked.

‘Sounds like you and this dragon got on well,’ Esmae said.

‘Not as well as you and Terry. I still can’t believe you actually invited someone over!’ Mollie said with a shake of her head. ‘But as for Whitestaff, he didn’t think I was strange or weird at all. I feel sorry for him, all alone and trapped like that. Was he really a dragon though? I didn’t think they were real.’

‘Oh, they are real,’ her mother answered. ‘Or were. You see they disappeared a long time ago. No one knows where they went, but most people were glad to be rid of them.’

‘Why?’ asked Mollie in surprise. ‘Whitestaff was so nice; he wouldn’t hurt a baby bird.’

‘Well,’ Esmae said as she considered the question. ‘Dragons were like people, like men.’

‘How?’

‘Some men,’ Esmae continued, ‘are nice, while others are not.’

‘And?’

‘Let me give you an example. Take Terry—’

‘Do we have to?’

Esmae gave her daughter a smirk.

‘Take Terry. He knew that the townsfolk call you and me witches, but he didn’t care. He did the right thing by us anyway.’

‘He looks funny, and he needs a bath,’ Mollie insisted.

‘Yes, he may look funny, but he showed us he has a good heart. He didn’t care about who we are; he just did the right thing.’

Mollie nodded. ‘It was nice of him to drive us around.’

‘Now about Cudgel. He is also a man, but he is a cruel one. He keeps those animals all locked up just so he can get rich. And he hurt you.’

‘So what you’re saying is that some men, no matter how they look or smell, have good hearts, while others are bad.’

‘That’s part of it, yes.’

‘And you think dragons are the same?’

‘Yes I do. You see, you can judge a person by their deeds. Terry showed us a good action, while Cudgel showed us a horrible one. I suppose dragons are just the same.’

Mollie yawned. ‘I can see your point. But I think I might get some sleep now. Can you start the fire tonight?’

‘Of course. But one more thing…’

‘Hmmm?’

‘If our actions tell what sort of people we are, you need to think about your actions. You are getting older now—as much as it pains me—and, it’s time to become the person you want to be. The person you will become will be defined by the things you do, see?’

With that, Esmae blew out the candles, shut Mollie’s door, and made her way in the dark to the fireplace.

Mollie thought about her mother’s words.

What sort of person do I want to be?

She rolled about in her blankets.

I want to be brave. No more being scared of people.

She thought about Whitestaff in his enclosure, looking at the world through his tiny peephole. I want to help those who need it, and I want to be a good friend.

She tossed her pillow over, and imagined Wendy thrashing about and singing to herself and getting worse each day. The more she thought, the less sleepy she felt, and slowly as the hour passed, a plan formed in her mind.

I know what I have to do.

Mollie snaked off her bed so as not to make a noise, and with a new determination, sneaked out of the bare little cottage. She made her way along the dirt path she’d trodden not long before, hoping to be back before the sun rose and woke her mother.

Chapter 8

Whitestaff didn’t sleep much either. He was sure one of his two hearts had broken at the sound of Mollie being dragged away by Cudgel. He had not been within earshot when Esmae interrupted, so he didn’t know if Mollie was safe or not.

That poor girl.

He rolled on his back and watched the grey clouds drift past the black sky, and gave a loud sigh as some bats flew overhead.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ Wendy asked from her side of the wagon. ‘I can’t sleep with you making all that noise.’

‘Here we go again,’ Whitestaff groaned. ‘We had this same conversation about an hour ago, Wendy. Don’t you remember?

‘No’

‘Well, nothing is wrong. Go back to sleep.’

‘Something is the matter, I can tell. Plus, you’re lying on your back; you’re sad again.’

‘You got me. Something is wrong.’

‘Is it that child, that girl? I guess she was nice. Pretty too, like me.’

‘Yes, Wendy, like you. We’ve said all this before.’

‘So why are you so sad?’

Whitestaff yawned. ‘It’s not her that upsets me. It’s me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Cudgel got her and I couldn’t save her. I’m just stuck in this stupid cage. I made a friend and let her down in the first five seconds.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Wendy said. ‘Even if you weren’t in the cage, you could hardly save anyone. You’re too weak, remember?’

Whitestaff pursed his rough lips. ‘Thanks a bundle, Wendy.’

‘No problem. Now you can be quiet and go to sleep.’

But of course, he couldn’t. His mind was cluttered with too many thoughts. Was Mollie fine? Would he ever see her again? What was the egg she saw, and would it somehow take him home?

He didn’t know the answers, so he just kept asking the questions over and over until exhaustion took him to sleep.

Chapter 9

Mollie Adkins ran towards the main junction. The night, which had started off very cold, was now positively freezing. Mollie wished she’d thought to wear shoes. Her feet were sore from slapping the packed dirt and the cold was beginning to make them tingle.

I could go back for my shoes, but I really don’t want to waste any more time.

She jogged on. The junction came into view, and after a few moments she was in the middle of the crossroads.

She looked toward Gibbon, then to Danmurk Shire.

After some thought, she headed south to Danmurk. She remembered that Terry had said he didn’t live far from where he’d dropped them off, so she ran along the main road to look for a house with a red roof. It wasn’t long before she did find such a house and, sure enough, the wagon they had travelled in was stationed in the yard.

Bramble was dozing in front of it.

‘Bramble,’ Mollie said gently as she approached. ‘Wake up.’

‘Huh? What?’ Bramble shook his head to wake himself.

‘It’s me, Mollie.’

‘Oh! What are you doing here, girl? Get back to your own house before I make a noise and wake my master.’

Mollie had expected Bramble’s less than warm reception. ‘I’ve come to help a horse,’ she said.

‘I don’t need help, now go home.’

‘Not you,’ Mollie said as she moved closer. ‘Another horse. And a beast. They’re being kept in a cage at the fair.’

‘Another horse you say?’ asked Bramble.

Mollie knew this would get his attention. Horses always looked out for each other.

‘Yes, she’s being kept hostage in a cage, and she’s gone mad. I want to help her and the, um, animal in the cage across.’

‘She? Latos, child! Why didn’t you say so?’ At once the horse stood up and lifted his chin. ‘On my back and let’s get moving. A gentleman always rescues a lady.’

Mollie climbed on, grinning eagerly.

‘Just get me to the Gibbon fairgrounds before the rooster crows, Bramble. I’ll do the rest.’

The two made madly their way through the dark. The icy wind stirred behind them, flapping Mollie’s clothes and rustling the leaves in the trees.

‘So who is this horse to you?’ Bramble asked as he galloped.

‘Well, I made friends with her while I was at the show. Her master has her all dressed up like a unicorn in this tiny cage. The cage is a wagon with no windows, only bars on the roof.’

‘You made friends with her, you say?’

‘Yes, she was quite friendly really.’

There was an awkward silence as they travelled.

‘I’m sorry I was rude when we first met. It’s just strange talking to a human. I wasn’t ready for it, that’s all.’

Mollie suppressed a smile. ‘That’s okay.’

‘You said there is another animal that needs rescuing. Is it a horse?’

‘No, it’s not a horse.’

Bramble ran on.

‘What is it then?’

Mollie hesitated. ‘It’s a dragon, and it’s in a lot of misery.’

‘It can’t be a dragon,’ the horse said, ‘they don’t exist anymore.’

‘This one does. But he is very lonely and very sick. I promised I would help him.’

‘And what of the horse? We are going to help this horse, aren’t we?’ Bramble’s voice became very stiff.

‘Yes, we will help her too.’

‘Because, child,’ Bramble continued, ‘if you tricked me into helping you and this, this dragon… you will find me less than amused.’

‘Bramble, I did promise to help the dragon, but they are in the same wagon. We can save Wendy as well.’

The horse’s body suddenly went rigid beneath Mollie’s hands and he made no further attempts at conversation. The only sound was the steady rhythm of hoof on dirt and the wind shaking the trees.

Mollie could see the fairgrounds before too long, and she was glad to be at their destination.

‘I’ll wait here,’ Bramble said, stopping short of the low wooden fence that surrounded the grounds. ‘Bring her to me when you’re done.’

Chapter 10

Mollie slid off Bramble and made her way to the back of the fair.

    All the vans and stalls around her were silent, apart from the odd cough or snore. Mollie felt as though she was creeping between sleeping dogs and that any minute one of them would wake up and attack her. She shuddered at the thought. What would happen if someone did find me?

Mollie had a vision of the fat lady with the mole finding her and taking her to Cudgel. He in turn would drag her around the yard by the hair, swearing at the top of his voice. Then all the people from the vans would come out and laugh or throw things at her.

This thought gave Mollie pause. She hid at the base of a thick tree and gathered her wits.

Don’t be silly, Mollie, she told herself. You have friends in trouble, and if anyone does find you, bite them and run.

She looked up and saw the picture of Whitestaff and Wendy painted on the side of Cudgel’s van.

They’re the reason you’re here.  If you were trapped and alone, you would want someone to free you. So stick to the plan!

Head down and feet light, she skulked past the van and over to the enclosure. Mollie climbed up the ramp and onto the viewing platform so she could see the captives inside.

‘Whitestaff. Wendy. I’ve come back!’

Wendy woke from her sleep and blinked at Mollie casually, as if the young woman had always been there.

Whitestaff rolled onto his stomach and opened his green eyes. He gave a small shout when he saw his friend through the iron bars above.

‘Mollie, you’re okay! That’s fantastic! You have no idea how glad I am to see you!’ he said.

‘It’s good to see you too, Whitestaff.  I had to come and see you to say goodbye.’

‘Goodbye?’

‘Yes, I’ve come to break you both free!’

Whitestaff cheered but Wendy snorted gruffly.

‘What if I don’t want to be free?’

‘Why would you want to stay all cooped up like this?’ asked Mollie in wonder.

‘Well, for starters,’ replied Wendy, ‘I get all the food I want. Also, people come from everywhere to stare at my beauty. I will not leave this place. It is my home.’

Mollie’s mouth was agape. ‘You can’t possibly want to stay here, Wendy. Horses are meant to run wild and—’

‘WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?’ Wendy shrieked. ‘I AM NO COMMON HORSE.’ She spat the word as though it were a dirty thing that had crawled into her mouth.

‘I AM THE VERY LAST UNICORN.’ She huffed loudly and turned her back on the both of them.

‘Don’t mind her, Mollie. You know she’s…’ Whitestaff didn’t know how to finish, but Mollie knew what he meant. Any animal would go crazy if it were locked up in a cage for years on end.

‘Whitestaff,’ said Mollie, putting Wendy temporarily out of her mind, ‘how can I get you closer to the egg?’

‘You’re not going to, Mollie,’ answered the dragon.

‘What ever do you mean? I’m sure we can think of something.’

‘Of course we can think of something. All I do is think of ways to escape this prison, but not if it means risking your safety again.’

‘And why not? I came all this way to help.’

‘I know,’ the dragon said patiently, ‘but last time Cudgel caught you, and I thought something terrible had happened.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Look, Mollie. I’m stuck here with nothing to lose. If Cudgel catches me breaking out, he won’t do anything he hasn’t done before. But what if he catches you? What if he learns you are special? He’ll put you in a cage for sure then you’ll be stuck like me.’

‘And you don’t think I’ve already thought of that? I know this is dangerous, but we have one chance at this, Whitestaff. Tomorrow you’ll be gone and there’ll be no way I can follow you. Now are you going to accept my help or not?’

‘What if it all goes wrong and you get hurt? I’d never be able to forgive myself. Friends don’t put each other in harm’s way.’

‘True, but if I were stuck in there without any chance of going home, how do you think you would feel? Rotten, that’s how. And wouldn’t you be doing the same thing, I am right this instant?’

Whitestaff thought for a moment.

‘Yes,’ he said to her through the bars. ‘I would do the same thing you are doing now.’

Mollie nodded. ‘Good. Now stop worrying and tell me what to do.’

‘Okay, here is my plan,’ the dragon said.

Mollie leaned closer.

‘I’ll get Cudgel to come out here, when he does— you sneak in and get the egg. Then, when Cudgel goes back into his van, slip me the egg then run away as fast as you can. Hopefully you’ll be gone before he notices the egg is missing.’

‘How will you get him to leave the van?’ Mollie asked.

‘I’ll pretend I’m sick. Or better yet, I’ll pretend someone is stealing me. That would bring him out.’

‘Okay,’ Mollie said. ‘I’ll wait behind his van.’

She turned to walk away.

‘Wait, Mollie. Before you go… I might not see you again and, well, I don’t know what to say.’ The dragon stared after the girl with his massive eyes. ‘Thank you, you have been kinder than anyone I have ever met.’

Mollie gave him a smile and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. ‘Good luck,’ she said. ‘I hope you make it home.’

Chapter 11

Mollie quietly made her way to the back of Cudgel’s van.  She looked anxiously at the sky; sunrise was still a long way off. She drew her clothes tighter around her when she realised she was shivering.

Am I really that cold?

Before she had time to think, there came a deep, heart-wrenching moan from Whitestaff’s cell. Mollie was about to get up and investigate before she caught herself.

Don’t be daft, Mollie. That’s the signal!

The next series of events happened in a slow moving fuzz to Mollie. As she was trying to gather her wits, Cudgel came bounding out of the van with a thunderous clatter and raced over to look on his precious animals.

‘Help! Thief!’ he yelled.

Mollie was crouched behind the van. She could see Cudgel’s bare feet kicking up dirt as he ran.

In a nervous rush, she dashed around to the front of the van and leapt in the open door. The egg was exactly where it had been when she had spied it through the window earlier. She picked it up hurriedly, not even smelling the filthy odour around her, and hopped out the door and back behind the van.

From there she searched for a place to hide.

Thump, a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. Mollie looked up to see the round face of Audrey, the woman from the hoop-throwing game. Her mouth was grinning and her fingers tightened around Mollie’s collarbone.

‘Cudgel,’ she shouted. ‘I’ve got her. Come quick!’

Mollie hugged the egg tight, and twisted out of the women’s grip. She ran blindly towards Wendy and Whitestaff.

It was too late when she realised this was a big mistake. Cudgel was of course still in there, tending to his dragon, and she was heading right for him.

With Cudgel in front and Audrey behind, Mollie had nowhere to go but up onto the viewing platform.

She bounced up the flimsy walkway and looked down. Cudgel was about to enter the moaning dragon’s cage when he heard Mollie coming up the ramp. He craned his neck to see her through the bars and met Mollie’s eyes with his own.

It took Cudgel a second to realise what was happening, and when he saw the egg in Mollie’s arms, his face burned red with anger.

Whitestaff stopped mid-yelp, and Wendy, who was wondering what all the commotion was about, batted her eyelids and clopped up and down nervously.

Mollie could hear Audrey puffing and panting behind her. She was hopelessly trapped. Her mind raced for a solution. Thankfully, one came.

‘Butterflies!’ she shouted.

Cudgel, who was about to come out of the enclosures and nab the girl hesitated at the word.

It was a big mistake, for upon hearing it, Wendy went into a kicking frenzy. Just like before, she kicked an