Painting: approx. 13 x 9”, Framed: 16 x 12”, Watercolor on Cold Press

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“How many seekers do you think have tried to pass?

For some reason, she wanted the answer to be forty two, but she had no idea why.

“I’ve been guarding this doorway forever,” the dragon rumbled. “Though I don’t know why. Why on earth would you want to leave and go back to your world? He looked like he wanted to shift and scratch at an exposed rib, but his legs were firmly anchored in roots and moss. “There’s death there. And decay. And disease, and grief. It’s so uncivilized.”

The girl eyed his decayed midsection and kept diplomatically silent.

“I saw that look,” the dragon huffed, “and my situation is entirely different, I assure you. I’m completely fine, I’m just too lazy to get up.” A small branch chose that moment to fall gracefully from a tree, thudding onto his back and sending a small, shuddering reverberation through his ribcage. A tiny sliver of bone that had been hanging precariously cracked and fell.

“. . .I see,” the girl said after a few silent heartbeats. One of the unicorns behind her made a soft huffing sound that somehow managed to sound vaguely mocking. “And yet. . .I would still like to go home. It’s going to be tea time soon, after all, and there will likely be scones with clotted cream.”

The dragon’s eyes widened.

“WELL now,” he rumbled, “that changes everything.”