kender were inattentive students, and they generally walked
off with the paint, the brushes, and half of tomorrow’s
lunch.
To better provide for his wife, Seron took a job during the
evenings as a cook at the Sea Master Inn. Kyra didn’t want
him to take the time away from his art, but he couldn’t bear
to see her go hungry. He promised her he would work at the
inn only until his paintings brought in more money.
He hoped that would happen soon, for he had chanced
upon an entirely new and exciting subject when he met his
very first dragon. . . .
“Do you have a red blanket?” asked the young male
brass dragon standing at the edge of a clearing in the forest.
Seron could hardly believe his eyes, let alone his ears;
the dragon was talking to him!
“Are . . . are you real?” stammered the painter.
“That doesn’t seem like an appropriate answer to the
question, ‘Do you have a red blanket?’ Would you like to try
again?”
Seron’s curiosity was greater than his fear. He stepped
closer and touched the dragon’s wing. “You are real,” he
mumbled, astonished. He quickly stepped back again.
“I seem to have this effect on everybody,” the dragon
said, shaking his head sadly. “Have you never seen or heard
of my kind before?”
“Only – only in legends,” replied Seron as he carefully
examined the tall, majestic dragon standing before him. He
didn’t want to forget any detail for the picture that he knew
he must paint. Finally, he thought, I’ll be able to succeed for
Kyra. This painting will be worth a fortune!
“It’s terrible,” complained the dragon. “Wherever I go,
people stop and gawk at me. And really,” he continued, “I
don’t understand it. It’s not as if I’m wearing flashy colors.
Which, by the way, brings me back to the question of the
red blanket. Do you have one or not?”
Seron didn’t want the dragon to leave. Not yet. He needed
more time to study this wonderful creature. “I’ll get you a
red blanket,” he promised. “Just wait right here.”
The painter raced to the hut.
“Kyra, where are you?” he cried when he found their
home empty.
“I’m in the back … in the vegetable garden.”
Not wanting to waste any time, he quickly looked
through their trunk and closet. He was sure they had some
sort of red blanket – a strange request, come to think of it –
but he couldn’t find it.
“Any luck?” called out the dragon, who was now
standing at the front door.
“You were supposed to stay where you were,” said
Seron nervously, stepping out to meet the creature. He was
afraid the dragon might harm his wife.
“Is someone there?” Kyra called out gaily, walking
around the side of the hut. “I thought I heard another voice
and – ”
She stopped in her tracks with a look of wonder on her
face.
“A red blanket!” cried the animal happily, gesturing
toward the red shawl Kyra wore around her shoulders.
Seron blinked. That’s what he had been looking for.
Kyra smiled at the dragon. She had grown up on tales
of these magical beasts. To Seron’s surprise, she wasn’t
afraid of the creature. “Do you like this?” she asked,
sweeping the shawl off her shoulders and holding it before
her.
“Very much,” replied the dragon.
“Then it’s yours,” she said. “I think you’ll look
wonderful in it. Much better than I.”
“Now, you’re a human I could grow to like,” the dragon
said. “What’s your name?”
“Kyra,” she replied with a warm smile. “What’s yours?”
“Tosch. And may I say,” said the dragon with a bow, “I
am very pleased to meet YOU. Him,” he added, pointing at
Seron, “I must ponder.”
“You must not offend me,” Kyra reproached gently.
“Seron is my husband, and if you like me, you must also
like him.”
The dragon made a frown. “Is this a rule of the
humans?”
“It’s my rule,” said Kyra.
The dragon nodded.
“Good. Now come, let me give you your new cape.”
Tosch lowered his head, and Kyra tied the red cloth
around the dragon’s neck. It was a pitifully small splash of