Page 2 of Wynter and the Stone Dragon

“Wynter! Where are you, love?”

Four-year-old Wynter giggled and scooted under the long table in her father’s lab. She loved to play hide-and-seek with her mother. Arastan, sitting at his desk along the wall, chuckled and shook his head in amusement.

“Shh!” Wynter pleaded, her eyes widening at the telltale sound of her mother’s boots on the stone floor.

“Arastan, have you seen your mischievous little Movian bear cub? It is time for her bath, and she seems to have escaped again.”

Wynter covered her mouth with both of her hands to smother her fit of giggles. She pulled her legs up, trying to make herself smaller. Through the legs of her father’s favorite stool, she saw the hem of her mother’s silver tunic.

“No, love, I haven’t seen any Movian bear cubs in here,” her father replied.

“Well, if you do, will you please let her know that I have a new story for her tonight?” her mother said with an exaggerated sigh.

“Give her ten more minutes. I’m sure she will magically appear,” her father promised. He wrapped an arm around his wife, she leaned down just as he tilted his head back, and they kissed.

Wynter wiggled her nose and giggled some more. They did that a lot. They liked to kiss her and her siblings, too. As she looked down, she noticed one of her father’s special gold rings on the floor. With glee, she put it in her pocket. She waited for her mother’s footsteps to fade away, but a moment later, her mother crouched down and peered at her.

“Found you!” her mother proclaimed.

Wynter squealed and scrambled out from under the table. She ran to her father, throwing herself into his arms. Her mother’s delighted laughter filled the room. Arastan rose from his chair and lifted her into the air.

“Fear not, my little Movian bear cub, I will save you from the evil bath witch!” her father declared.

With a flick of his wrist, a wooden sword appeared in his free hand. Wynter’s mother put her hands on her hips and shook her head. Wynter buried her face against her dad’s neck and vigorously nodded.

“You are not helping, Arastan,” Lyia teased. “Come, love, you really need a bath. You’ve got twigs and bits of dried flowers stuck in your hair.”

“No, stay. Pretty circles,” Wynter pleaded, tears filling her eyes.

“I’ll bathe her tonight,” Arastan promised.

Lyia sighed, stepped closer, and kissed them both. “Don’t be late for dinner again.”

“We won’t, will we, poppet?” her father said.

Wynter shook her head. “Not poppet, Movian bear cub,” she impishly growled, curling her fingers as if they were claws.

Her mother blew them both a kiss. Wynter grinned over her father’s shoulder and returned the kiss, loving how her mother’s eyes softened with affection.

Wynter’s ten-year-old brother, Ladon, peered through the doorframe and stuck his tongue out at her. She made a face at him.

“How about being a good girl while I finish taking these notes?”

Wynter nodded and her father sat her down on the stool. She studied the series of large golden orbs. They each showed a different world. Some planets swirled with deadly gases while others brimmed with life. She loved the worlds with life the most.

“Pretty,” she said, pointing to one orb off to the side.

“Yes, it is beautiful. There are some interesting creatures that live there. Look at this one.”

Wynter looked at the creature her father had drawn in his notebook. She ran her fingers across the image. Smooth stone scales heated her fingertips. While the stone the drawing depicted should be cold, it wasn’t. The dark gray animal looked like a pile of rocks had been stacked to create a fierce beast that would have been very scary if Wynter wasn’t distracted by the love the creature felt for the smaller one barely visible behind her front leg.

“These are stone dragons. As they age, their scales lose their roughness and become more polished. This is how we know when they are ready to breed. The little ones are chubby, and their bodies have a rougher surface. They seem to be loving, loyal, and nearly indestructible.”

“Pet?” she asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Arastan chuckled and shook his head. “No, love. You can’t pet them. We just watch over them.”

Wynter stroked the illustration. Somewhere out of sight of her father’s magic orb, Wynter sensed the mother stone dragon swinging her head from side to side, searching for the unexpected connection she felt through her scales. Her child looked up and sniffed the air. Wynter sent a wave of love to the dragon and her infant son. The stone dragon tilted her head and snorted with bewilderment.

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