dragon inspected its neatly buffed claws and then lifted a feathered eyebrow at her.
Brooke rather cautiously let go of the mast and moved toward the bow of the boat. “It won’t go over, will it?” she asked fearfully.
“Of course not,” the dragon scoffed. “You’ll have to jump.”
She halted a couple of feet back from the pointed bow. “I will not,” she told the dragon decidedly. “Then I’d be in the pit. And dragons eat people.”
An absurdly hurt expression twisted the dragon’s face. “I wouldn’t do that. Besides, I need you.”
“For an appetizer?”
“Oh, no. Certainly not.” The dragon floated a bit nearer, its big golden eyes peering at her serenely. In a confidential tone it said, “You see, I’m actually a prince.”
Brooke crossed her arms over her breasts. “Of course, you are,” she agreed politely.
“Really,” the dragon insisted, clearly sensing doubt.
She stared at him. “Look, this is my dream. Now, I’d be willing to accept a frog-prince in my dream, but not a dragon-prince. It just isn’t done.”
The dragon scratched what might have been an ear with one long claw. He seemed perturbed. Doubtfully he said, “Well, I know it’s your dream—but—but I
am
here. Couldn’t you just accept me?”
“No.”
The dragon sighed. He floated higher in the air above the pit, crossing his hind legs and resting back on thin air and his long tail. A man-size dragon. “You think I
like
living in this pit?” he demanded mournfully.
“I really hadn’t thought about it.”
“You’re a cruel princess.”
“I’m not a princess at all.”
“Yes, you are. And you have to kiss me so I’ll turn into your prince.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
A glare was born in the golden eyes. “You’re not taking me seriously!”
“Forgive me,” she murmured. “It’s hard to be serious when conversing with a dragon in a dream.”
“It’s only partly a dream,” he assured her.
“What? What’s the other part?”
“Reality.” The dragon shrugged. “You see, if I’d appeared as your prince, you wouldn’t have accepted me. You’re a fighter, you know. Always have been. So I had to come as a dragon.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Of course, it does. I’m the dragon you can’t slay. I won’t disappear if you fight me. The only way to get rid of me is to kiss me. Then I’ll be a prince and not a dragon.”
“It seems to me,” Brooke said thoughtfully, “that if I turn you into a prince, I’ll really be stuck with you.”
The dragon looked hurt again. “A
very
cruel princess,” he noted sadly.
“I’d like to wake up now,” Brooke announced.
“Sorry. Beyond my power. You have to jump.”
Brooke stamped a foot. “It’s
my
dream and I want to wake up!”
A feathered eyebrow lifted again. He drifted closer, big golden eyes blinking like the mysterious eyes of a cat. “Then kiss me,” he said, his voice dropping to a note that was warm and compelling.
Brooke stared at him for a moment, then looked down at the tennis shoes on her slender feet. Speculatively she murmured, “I wonder what would happen if I clicked my heels together three times?”
“You’re not in Oz,” the dragon scoffed.
She sighed. “I know. I’m in the middle of a really crazy dream talking to a ridiculous dragon who thinks he’s the dragon version of a frog-prince.”
“Stop talking about frogs,” the dragon begged. “It’s bad enough being a dragon. C’mon now—don’t you want to wake up? Give us a kiss.”
Giggling suddenly Brooke held up a disdainful hand. “Keep your distance, sir,” she commanded, trying to appear regal in jeans and a knit top. “I don’t kiss dragons.”
The dragon crossed his hind legs the other way and folded the forelegs across his feathered chest. “This is not the way the story was written,” he complained. “You’re supposed to kiss me.”
Before Brooke could respond, he abruptly disappeared down into the pit.
Brooke rather cautiously let go of the mast and moved toward the bow of the boat. “It won’t go over, will it?” she asked fearfully.
“Of course not,” the dragon scoffed. “You’ll have to jump.”
She halted a couple of feet back from the pointed bow. “I will not,” she told the dragon decidedly. “Then I’d be in the pit. And dragons eat people.”
An absurdly hurt expression twisted the dragon’s face. “I wouldn’t do that. Besides, I need you.”
“For an appetizer?”
“Oh, no. Certainly not.” The dragon floated a bit nearer, its big golden eyes peering at her serenely. In a confidential tone it said, “You see, I’m actually a prince.”
Brooke crossed her arms over her breasts. “Of course, you are,” she agreed politely.
“Really,” the dragon insisted, clearly sensing doubt.
She stared at him. “Look, this is my dream. Now, I’d be willing to accept a frog-prince in my dream, but not a dragon-prince. It just isn’t done.”
The dragon scratched what might have been an ear with one long claw. He seemed perturbed. Doubtfully he said, “Well, I know it’s your dream—but—but I
am
here. Couldn’t you just accept me?”
“No.”
The dragon sighed. He floated higher in the air above the pit, crossing his hind legs and resting back on thin air and his long tail. A man-size dragon. “You think I
like
living in this pit?” he demanded mournfully.
“I really hadn’t thought about it.”
“You’re a cruel princess.”
“I’m not a princess at all.”
“Yes, you are. And you have to kiss me so I’ll turn into your prince.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
A glare was born in the golden eyes. “You’re not taking me seriously!”
“Forgive me,” she murmured. “It’s hard to be serious when conversing with a dragon in a dream.”
“It’s only partly a dream,” he assured her.
“What? What’s the other part?”
“Reality.” The dragon shrugged. “You see, if I’d appeared as your prince, you wouldn’t have accepted me. You’re a fighter, you know. Always have been. So I had to come as a dragon.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Of course, it does. I’m the dragon you can’t slay. I won’t disappear if you fight me. The only way to get rid of me is to kiss me. Then I’ll be a prince and not a dragon.”
“It seems to me,” Brooke said thoughtfully, “that if I turn you into a prince, I’ll really be stuck with you.”
The dragon looked hurt again. “A
very
cruel princess,” he noted sadly.
“I’d like to wake up now,” Brooke announced.
“Sorry. Beyond my power. You have to jump.”
Brooke stamped a foot. “It’s
my
dream and I want to wake up!”
A feathered eyebrow lifted again. He drifted closer, big golden eyes blinking like the mysterious eyes of a cat. “Then kiss me,” he said, his voice dropping to a note that was warm and compelling.
Brooke stared at him for a moment, then looked down at the tennis shoes on her slender feet. Speculatively she murmured, “I wonder what would happen if I clicked my heels together three times?”
“You’re not in Oz,” the dragon scoffed.
She sighed. “I know. I’m in the middle of a really crazy dream talking to a ridiculous dragon who thinks he’s the dragon version of a frog-prince.”
“Stop talking about frogs,” the dragon begged. “It’s bad enough being a dragon. C’mon now—don’t you want to wake up? Give us a kiss.”
Giggling suddenly Brooke held up a disdainful hand. “Keep your distance, sir,” she commanded, trying to appear regal in jeans and a knit top. “I don’t kiss dragons.”
The dragon crossed his hind legs the other way and folded the forelegs across his feathered chest. “This is not the way the story was written,” he complained. “You’re supposed to kiss me.”
Before Brooke could respond, he abruptly disappeared down into the pit.
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