The Lazy Dragon and Bumblespells Wizard by Kath Boyd Marsh Page B

fire or anything.
    They walked through the outskirts and on into the center of the village without seeing a single person, not even a dog on the road.
    â€œWhere is everybody?” Cl’rnce wondered.
    â€œMaybe they’re afraid of you,” Moire Ain said. Raspberries swooped off her shoulder and perched on the top of one of the huts. She hoped they could walk through the village and keep on their journey.
    Cl’rnce laughed. “Nobody is afraid of dr’gons. Be serious.”
    â€œWell, they’re not afraid of me.” Moire Ain pointed to the ten rickety stick huts lined along the dirt road. Not one of the shacks seemed big enough to house a flock of chickens, let alone a family of peasants. “These are a lot like the huts in my village. This is a very poor village.” She frowned, hoping Cl’rnce would get the point and keep traveling.
    â€œWhat’s this?” Cl’rnce kicked at a pile of straw and feathers squatting in the middle of the village’s one road. The center of the mess was dabbed with huge, dried-mud footprints. He circled the pile, then bent over one footprint for a long time. Moire Ain paced around him. At last Cl’rnce stuck one of his back paws out next to the footprint. His large paw was tiny compared to the print.
    Moire Ain leaned over. “Rotten frog farts! That’s from the world’s biggest dr’gon. Can you believe the size of his paw prints?” She was amazed and a little afraid. Cl’rnce had been kind to her, but he had thrown fire at a knight. What would a really huge dr’gon do to a village?
    â€œNo, I don’t believe it, not for a second,” Cl’rnce said.“This is a fake.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? Like as in not real dr’gon paw prints? What else could they be? They look real. See how detailed, even the muddy bits where the claws and chicken feathers are stuck together.” Moire Ain bent, using her fingers to try to measure the huge prints. “It’s twenty finger-lengths long! Wait. Do you mean these are some other kind of monster prints?” she asked.
    Cl’rnce looked up at the huts. “No. I mean these aren’t real anything footprints. Somebody faked ’em.” Cl’rnce pointed. “Look where the smallest claw is on each print. Notice it’s always on the same side. They’re all right paws. No left paw prints. Unless this was a one-legged dr’gon, hopping all over the place ….”
    Moire Ain clapped her hands, relieved that this wasn’t a fast, dangerous dr’gon. “You figured it out. It’s a one-legged dr’gon. He hopped on chickens to catch them. And probably flattened them.” She took a step back from the mounds of mud and feathers. “It was an accident.”
    Cl’rnce shook his head. “That would be a pretty good trick, and it would mean the paw prints should be really deep from the weight of such a big dr’gon jumping up and down. These prints look like they were kind of painted on top of the straw. See? The straw pieces aren’t even broken. If something heavy had trod here, the straw would be in tiny pieces.”
    â€œWhy would anyone make fake prints?” Moire Ain asked.
    â€œIt was the chicken-stomping dr’gon! No food here. Pass on down the road,” a voice yelled from the nearest hut. Raspberries sat on the hovel’s top, pecking through the straw roofing.
    Moire Ain understood and headed down the road. But Cl’rnce called her back. “Great and Mighty, look at this! The peasant’s sitting in the middle of a pile of bald chickens.” Cl’rnce had his head stuck into the opening of one of the huts.
    Moire Ain doubled back and peered over his shoulder. The peasant inside pointed to Moire Ain and Cl’rnce. “Get out of my home. You’re too big, and you’ll pull it down, big, fat dr’gon.” She squinted angry eyes at