/lit/ - Literature

Four little legs and a pair of wrinkled wingtips scrabbled across the floor.

The pale little green nestling eyed a crack in the wood. She carefully positioned her feet, stepping backwards slightly and hunching over with her skinny, wet legs. Ichor dripped from the ends of the wings, showing fresh, soft flesh between the wing-bones. Later, that same flesh would dry and produce a rough carapace, light but durable material.

The nestling leapt upon the crack with a roar of triumph. Only, she would have, save for the fact that her overly large wing fell in front of her causing her to roll over the floor. The little dragon raised a cacophony as it continuously rolled about, its exaggerated wingspan wrapped around it like a cloak, impeding its balance. Finally the little ball of ichor and screeches came to a halt, when the dragon simply gave up and lay within its wings quivering with a sense of shame.

Lionel sighed. A small puff of contempt was his only sign of frustration.

He flipped pages in the freshly-inked book within his hands. Printed from a press, the book had a fine leather scent that filled up the entire room. The binding was newly cracked where Lionel had first opened it on that morning. At best, Lionel could recognize the book as a sort of almanac of the beasts that inhabited the world. Pictures captured the artists’ fondest grandiose dreams. Great dragons were drawn to reach the size of ten men standing straight, yet everybody knew the maximum height of a drake was that of 2 feet standing. Mischievous and nasty creatures, drakes were well-known for being scrap thieves and flying pests. Often communities paid bounties for drake eggs; they harvested the leathery skin of the newborns. While the skin was still submerged in its birthing juice the leather was workable, for once it dried it was nigh impossible to mold without breaking.