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MillionNovel > Endless Stars > Rousing III: Interpret, part iii

Rousing III: Interpret, part iii

    In the window a massive beast lumbered, long and lean, with a load pathetic compared to its bulk. Fourteen slim legs supported its weight, each as fat around as a dragon’s. The length of the creature was repetitive, as if it had once been a natural thing, but had that midsection resculpted and appended to the end again and again and again like clay. Mossy chitin glinted in the light, textureless green alternating with foggy pools of collected water on its back and sides. Even from the door, I could scent the chemicals smelling like burnt garlic which kept flies and parasites away, and coupled with it the rank scent of the fungi and moss all over.


    just right and knit themselves a cocoon to brume out the summers, emerging each gyra with new chitin and fresh scent.


    stench of the caterpillar cow. It brought the forest-y odor of its flora, and yes, I could even smell the sweetness of its feed and the chemical scent of the buggrounders, but the unwashed mass of its body and the awful odor of its manure washed out any pleasantness. Its rear stood out of view, so I can only hope whoever owns this cow had a bag to catch its droppings.


    please let it be with Sinig, and not with Arall. After five boxes, they finished. Arall went back to her counter, while Mawrion gestured for Sinig and me to go back and organize the new stuff. Yay, but also ugh.


    wasn’t that predictable, Staune! “So um, what are you going to do today???—??later, I mean?”


    hurt that you would betray the shop like this.”


    my idea!”


    smaller, then.” I let out a big breath, baring my frills. Changing the subject, I said “I learnt all the major dragon tongues. Was made to learn, anyway.”


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    The ruddy-red drake glanced at me. “You want more smalltalk?”


    do?”


    that tone.


    do?”


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.“When ash-clouds raged and spit their flakes,


    “That hatchling molted, sprung a drake;


    “When scoria filled the air in spray,


    “That fledgling filled the ground, then lay.


    “But I have watched you try and try,


    “And true to time, your wings did fly;


    “Yet then, to learn, I left my home.


    “It dried my fangs — they were but bone.


    “As dance and season came to pass,


    “The greenery would never last;


    “Bright skies grew black, suns seemed a sore


    “Above, an’ dull shadows crept into my core.


    “Aground, life seemed most bleak and wrong…


    “But friends I made, and found my song:


    “And lifted by these thermal bonds, I sang;


    “Now love’s sweet kiss bedews my fangs,


    “And I become a mother…


    “Do I still love my brother?”


    I had stopped sorting to listen. When he finished, I folded my frills. “That’s…”


    read poetry. It’s–it’s not proper. Artistry is for drakes, wivers take up science. Or war. Or trade. But not song.”


    rule. It’s just???—??how it is.”


    <hr style="margin-top: 2ex; margin-bottom: 2ex">


    My box half-emptied with that thought on my mind. My life had certainly become a bit interesting lately. I’d lost count of how many times I almost died in the Berwem, and then there was Ushra’s conspiracy theory, whatever the guards and that inquirer were up to, and Adwyn. My thoughts danced like that, and settled on my question from earlier.


    does, but you never taste it until after it’s all said and done. I wouldn’t trust him as far as his dress falls, but the faer must see something in him.”


    I’m going to change things, sister, he said. We’re going to change things. A House Specter without masks, without tradition breathing down our necks.


    Your House Specter.


    would this cost? “Hey, S, what constellation did you hatch under?”


    am a stargazer. Being determined doesn’t mean anything. The seasons are determined???—??they come every year. But will you tell an ashstorm it cannot affect anything?”


    meddle.”


    * * *
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