standing tall and proud, leading the procession of other important town officials, including her parents. On her shoulder rested the dragon, its scales glowing brightly. It was different than the butterfly dragons; larger, more magnificent. Her hands itched to touch it, to run her hands along its luminescent feathery wings.
She flexed her hand. It ached a little, but she wouldn't admit it to anyone, least of all Luan.
Below, the glow dragon reared up on her hind legs and trumpeted. Then, with a flap of her wings, she ascended into the air and glided around the perimeter of the vast field. The crowd cheered as the dragon began to draw the sun to herself. Soon she was a brilliant white ball, nearly as bright as the sun itself, and she rained sunlight down among the crowd.
That was Chataya's favorite part, when the darkened sky lit up, and day ruled the night. That's when the festivities really began. When tens of thousands of people gathered from all over to sing and dance. When music filled the air, and Chataya could drink sparkling sangria until her head spun and her tummy felt near to bursting. Parades marched down the main streets, one after the other, with people playing drums, and troupes dancing ancient dances. Paper dragons and leopards floated through the air on wooden poles.
She wanted to punch Luan all over again for goading her like that. She watched Sol, wishing against all hope that she could have a glow dragon for her own. One she could pet whenever she desired. And more importantly, one that Luan could not.
Sol was the only known glow dragon in the long history of her people. Most people weren't even sure they existed, believing that perhaps she was some strange fluke of evolution. There were many legends of them, sure, but no one had actually ever seen a glow dragon in the wild in living memory.
Chataya would bet her first-born child there was a whole tribe of them, somewhere out there.
And that was the problem. No one remembered how the chieftainess's ancestors had acquired the dragon. She had been in the family for generations. Centuries , as some would tell it. Sol could be older than the forest itself, for all anyone knew. Chataya's great aunt once insisted the dragons lived deep in the heart of the jungle where there wasn't much sun, where fools went to die. They lived with the Great One, a giant tree dragon that was as old as the jungle itself, maybe older. With branches that stretched up into the sky, to kiss the sun. She claimed the sun fell in love with the Great One, and from their union sprouted the glow dragons.
“I'm surprised you actually listened to your father.”
Chataya jumped. Luan smirked from the stairs. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair tousled as if he had just come from dancing. Which he probably had, that jerk.
“What do you want?” she grumbled, settling back down onto her elbows.
“I thought you'd be out in the field. You love the Solstice.” He came to stand next to her. He smelled of sangria and smoke, and she hated him a bit more.
“I'm banned, remember?”
“Like that's ever stopped you from doing something.”
“And what about you? I thought you'd be down there with your mother,” she said. And the dragon. She looked wistfully at the field, where she could just make out Sol, now perched atop a giant pole decorated with flowers.
“Nah,” he said with a smile. “It's far more interesting up here.”
Chataya rolled her eyes. She glanced at him, and couldn't help the smile that formed at seeing the black eye covering half his face.
“How's your eye?” She didn't even try to hide the annoyance in her voice. Or the satisfaction.
Luan laughed, and angled his face so she could see her handiwork better. “Does it make me look more handsome?”
Chataya scoffed, her cheeks reddening. She cursed herself.
“No? Well, I suppose I deserved it.”
“You did.”
“Oh Chataya, you don't really want to hit me again, do
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