by Jeanna Kunce
“No, nothing like that. But I do have something for you, if you’ll only get my bag from the other room. I promise it won’t bite you,” she added with a huff. “Oh, and tell me where I can find some paper before you go.”
Darien pointed to the closet, then she detachedly watched as her feet turned and headed down the hall to fetch Miss Millie’s bag. What am I doing? This is crazy. She is crazy! At every step, Darien’s doubts pounded in her ears, yet at the same time she was helpless to resist wanting to find out more from this enigmatic woman. Warily, Darien hooked one finger through the bag’s drawstring and retreated down the hall, holding the bag at arm’s length in front of her.
The first thing she noticed upon her return was that Miss Millie had not grabbed the notebook paper from the closet but the wrapping paper instead. She had taped a four-foot section of it to the wall with the polka-dot-pattern side facing in, leaving the plain white side facing out.
Miss Millie took her bag from Darien’s tense finger and casually eased the drawstring open. Darien stared anxiously, hoping and dreading to see the mysterious contents of the large bag, yet it appeared to be pitch black inside. Miss Millie dug around briefly, retrieved one of the mysterious lumps—a skein of maroon yarn with two knitting needles poking out—and tossed it on the recliner.
She reached in again and pulled out a second mystery object: a pair of wire-frame reading glasses.
For the third and final time, Miss Millie searched through the bag’s contents and this time removed an item infinitely more interesting to Darien. It was a dark wooden box, about ten inches square on top and maybe four inches high. Carved upon the hinged lid was a slender tree with gracefully curving branches and tiny leaves. Around the four sides were strange markings that might have been merely decorative—or might have meant something to someone who could decipher the symbols. One corner was slightly blackened; otherwise, the box looked old but well cared for.
Miss Millie handed the box to Darien, whose eyes danced with curiosity. With her earlier fears quite left behind, Darien traced a finger over the tree’s outline, feeling its smoothly chiseled texture, then gazed eagerly at the delicate latch holding the lid closed.
“Go ahead, open it. It’s not locked right now,” Miss Millie said, nodding.
Darien held her breath and carefully eased the box open. The first thing she saw on top was a shallow ceramic tray with depressions shaped like half spheres. On the inside of the lid were three paintbrushes, each a different size, held in by silky black ribbons. Darien lifted the tray out and saw that underneath were nine glass bottles of different colors. When she discovered that the bottles were actually clear and only contained ordinary paint, although in an unusual box, she abandoned any further thoughts of Miss Millie being anything except an odd old woman.
“They are concentrated, so you don’t need to put much in the tray,” Miss Millie explained. “And you can add water as you go along to make them last longer. Be careful not to spill them on you or on the floor.” These seemed to be the only instructions she planned to give, as she promptly settled into the rocking chair and became absorbed in her knitting project.
Darien hardly noticed, however, as she was already contemplating the blank paper, her head cocked to the side and her hands on her hips. Without turning away from the paper, Darien said, “I don’t know what to paint.”
“Remember, use your imagination. Think of places far away, or people, or adventures. Let go. Think of what you would see if your dreams could come alive. Close your eyes and picture it in your head first, if you need to.”
So while Miss Millie rocked, Darien closed her eyes, thinking hard. And nothing happened. The only thoughts that came were how foolish her parents would think she was. Very softly, she heard Miss Millie beginning to hum on beat with the rocking chair, and after a while Darien allowed her mind to drift. When she stopped trying so hard, she realized that ideas were coming to her. With the tray of paints and brushes in hand, Darien began to paint.
“What if it’s not good?” she asked.
“Oh, I don’t think you need to worry about that. Those paints are very, very easy to work with. Just trust yourself and what you see in your head,” Miss Millie answered, then resumed humming.
And so Darien began to paint.
2
A Fall and a Rescue
A bright green leaf started to take shape on the left. The cool, calming blue of a clear lake flowed in from the right. As Darien painted, a scene was appearing almost faster than she could imagine it. It was as if the paints could sense what she wanted to see, and then it became more real and defined than she could even picture in her head. The only sounds were the steady crick-creak of the rocking chair and Miss Millie’s hypnotic humming. Darien noticed neither of these; her hands and body moved like she was in a trance. Every time she dipped her brush into the paint, she could feel a shivery tingle move from the brush, through her fingers, and almost halfway up her forearm.
The basic landscape was nearly finished. Sunlight glinted off ripples in the lake; the deep, earthy brown of hard-packed dirt surrounded the water; and every shade of green could be seen in the lush forest filled with plants and trees like no one has ever seen before. Here and there were small splashes of crimson, peach, and magenta from tropical-looking flowers thriving at the forest’s edge.
Darien leaned in closer to add a small flock of gray birds flying in the distance and a soft, brown creature in a tree that looked like a monkey at first glance but was not really a monkey at all. So quickly, the paintbrush moved with graceful strokes here, tiny stipples there, little dabs all around. The colors were so vibrant, the details were so realistic, it was hard to believe it was only a painting. Darien’s heart beat faster because she felt the painting was almost complete. The trance-like feeling was fading, and she started to think about what was happening. And as she thought, Darien knew there was one more thing to add, yet she was afraid.
She glanced back at Miss Millie. The woman appeared to have nodded off in the chair, although the haunting melody of her humming still seemed to echo in Darien’s head. A warm breeze tickled the hair by her neck. And as Darien turned back to the painting, she thought she saw movement on the far side of the lake. How could that be? My eyes must be screwed up from staring at the paper for so long.
Her eyes squinted, and she moved her face up close to the painting in order to see more clearly. It can’t be what I was thinking about, Darien told herself. But her eyes weren’t deceiving her. Something surely was on the other side of the lake, something she hadn’t painted—and the something was moving almost imperceptibly. Straining even more to see what it was, Darien leaned closer. As she took a step, she tripped and fell forward.
In a dizzying flash, Darien fell to her hands and knees. She struggled to understand why her hands had landed on a patch of pebbly dirt instead of on the smooth wood of her parents’ living room floor, why a prickly leaf was tickling her earlobe, and why the thick, musty smell of a summer thunderstorm had suddenly and completely disappeared from her nostrils. Before she could even begin to understand what had happened, the silence was abruptly broken by the high-pitched shriek of an animal in pain. Without thinking, Darien jumped to her feet and started making her way through the undergrowth toward the far side of the lake.
Halfway around the curve of the shore, Darien stumbled and had to untangle a vine from her ankle. The rush of the realization of what had happened overwhelmed her. I fell into the painting. I’m in the painting. I’M IN THE PAINTING! This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.
Darien looked back where she had come from. The living room and Miss Millie were gone. In fact, there was nothing but lake and forest as far as her eyes could see.
“Hey!” Darien yelled. “Where am I?” Her voice sounded small and muted in the thick forest. Before she could say anything more, the air was filled again with the animal’s terrible cry.
>
Knowing what she had to do, Darien yanked the vine out of her way and jumped to her feet. She nimbly hopped over small boulders and quickly made it the rest of the way around the lake, despite the thorny plants that clawed at her clothes and bare arms. The crying thing was obscured by a flowering shrub, and she couldn’t see the animal until she was almost on top of it. Darien’s heart pounded as she stepped into full view of the creature.
The paints had known, through whatever strange magic they held, that what Darien most wanted in her heart was to see a dragon. But this didn’t look like any dragon she had ever imagined. First of all, it was relatively small, only about the size of a large dog. Its skin was soft and pink, not green and scaly. The two wings were shriveled and plastered against its body with a syrupy greenish goo. It lay curled on its side in the shade of the shrub, and when Darien arrived, it raised its head and gave a weak version of the cry she had heard from across the lake. Then it looked pleadingly at her as it started to wheeze and pant.
Darien’s fear left her, and she knelt by the sick dragon. She spoke soothingly to it and slowly reached out her hand to touch its heaving side. From inches away Darien’s fingers could already feel an enormous heat emanating from the dragon’s skin. It gave a halfhearted snap of its jaws toward her, but then it lay back and let Darien’s hand come to rest on its back. Suddenly it dawned on her that the poor thing had done its best to find a cool spot, but it just wasn’t enough.
“You’re too hot, aren’t you, fella? If I had a way to get some water to you, I could cool you off,” Darien said to the creature. She looked around, wondering what she could possibly find that might work.
Nothing seemed to fit what she was looking for. The leaves were either too small, too high, or too fragile. Bark from the nearby trees was papery and thin. Just when Darien thought she could try to cup the water in her hands and bring it over, the dragon moaned once more.
“Well,” she said, “if I can’t get the water to you, I’ll have to get you to the water.” Hoping her instincts were right, Darien moved around to the dragon’s back and slid her hands underneath its whole body to pick it up. It was heavy, but Darien was just strong enough to carry it over to the clear water of the lake. The hardest part was keeping her hands from slipping in the slimy and, incidentally, smelly fluid from its wings.
The dragon must have sensed that she was trying to help, because it didn’t struggle or try to snap at her again. Darien wobbled under the weight of the dragon as she kicked her shoes off and gingerly walked into the water. She felt the firm earth give way to a smooth, rocky bottom. Darien was thankful her feet weren’t getting cut to shreds, though her tights were slippery on the rounded stones.
When she was in up to her chest, Darien leaned forward and let the dragon’s body sink almost all the way under the surface. Soothed by the cool water, the dragon relaxed its head in the crook of Darien’s elbow. Not knowing what to do next, she started to sing to the dragon in a quiet voice. To her surprise, after a while she noticed a gentle vibration as the dragon began to hum softly and tunelessly along with her.
Time passed rather slowly as they soaked and watched wispy white clouds float lazily across the sky. Iridescent dragonflies larger than Darien’s head skimmed and dove gracefully over the water, buzzing somnolently, but never coming close enough to seem threatening. Gradually, the intense heat of the dragon diminished. Darien’s ankles started to ache from the chill, and she began to wonder how long she would have to remain in the lake with the dragon. Fortunately, it no longer appeared to be in pain at all, and its eyes were becoming more alert to its surroundings.
“Well, little guy,” Darien said, “I think we’re going to have to get out of the water. My legs are starting to feel numb, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold you. Should we see how it goes back on land?” She didn’t really expect an answer, yet she was somewhat disappointed that there wasn’t at least some sign to tell her what to do.
As Darien waded into the shallower area, the dragon’s body slowly emerged from the water. She noticed that its skin no longer looked feverishly pink and had instead started to turn the deep orange-red of maple leaves in autumn. Looking at it in wonder, she took on its full weight again and carried it back into the shade, grateful that all the slimy stuff had been washed away in the lake. Because the dragon still didn’t protest, she laid it down and timidly put her hand on its head. The dragon’s dark brown eyes stared into Darien’s eyes with curiosity.
“It’s all right, little one. I’ll take care of you,” Darien said as she gently touched her fingers over its bumpy head. The dragon responded by blinking its large eyes slowly and making another short hum in its throat, although it was rather unclear whether the dragon actually understood or if it just liked the soothing sound of Darien’s voice.
Abruptly, the bonding between human and dragon was broken by a dark shadow swooping down from overhead. Darien ducked and tried to cover the dragon’s head with her body. There was a heavy thump on the ground nearby. Darien turned her head to look while she continued to shield the dragon’s body.
Fifteen feet away stood another dragon, this one so large that the top of Darien’s head would barely have reached its shoulder. It stretched its dark brown head down toward her, nostrils flaring. Darien shied away from the creature’s bony snout and the short, blunt horns jutting from its heavy forehead. It let out a sharp hiss from between its teeth and tried to see the small dragon she protected. For all Darien knew, this new one might try to kill the little one. And though there was probably not much she could do against this big beast if it wanted to attack her, she tried to stand her ground. Her heart pounded wildly as the big dragon took a step closer.
“Leave him alone! I’m not going to let you hurt him!” Darien shouted. She put her hands out in defense when the large dragon hissed again and loomed near. It swung its head into her side, pushing her roughly to the ground. The small dragon loudly squawked in protest. The large dragon glanced over the small one’s body, then turned back to Darien, who was trying to get her breath back.
To her surprise, the dragon spoke to her in an oddly accented English, saying, “This dragon isn’t a ‘him.’ She’s a baby; I am her brother. And you’re the one she needs protection against, Human. Do you think you can just come and steal our hatchlings now too?”
“What? I wasn’t trying to steal her. I was just trying to help. She was howling and crying and burning up from fever when I got here, so I cooled her off in the water.” Darien scrambled to her feet. “Besides, it’s not my fault she was left here all alone and sick,” she added indignantly.
The large dragon seemed to roll his eyes. “She wasn’t sick; she was just born. The birthing process for dragons is so heat intensive that we need to stay cool for a period of time after hatching. How else will our skin harden and become this strong, protective shell?” At this, the dragon clapped his chest with one muscular foreleg. “And for your information, the only reason we would ever leave a newborn is because our mother was taken right after laying her egg, while she was still weak.”
“Taken? Who would take her?”
The dragon’s eyes narrowed. “Humans—like you.”
3
Darien Hitches a Ride
Darien was stunned for a moment by this news. She wondered what kind of strange place this was she had stumbled into. She stood by while the large dragon began tending to the baby. At the last moment, she realized that he was preparing to leave and take the baby with him.
“Wait!” she burst out. The dragon snapped his head around suspiciously. “I mean, please wait, Mister Dragon, sir.” He snorted at that. “I think we got off to a bad start,” Darien insisted. “I really was only trying to help your little sister. I thought she was hurt. I’m not from around here—I don’t even know where here is—and I don’t know anything about the people who took your mother.”
She eased her way over to th
e baby and sat beside her. The little dragon promptly hummed and laid her head on Darien’s lap. “Does she have a name yet? Mine’s Darien.”
The large dragon sighed impatiently. “Yes, her name is Tabo. I am called Amani. Now, if there is nothing more, I need to get her somewhere safe so I can figure out how to get our parents back.”
“Please wait,” Darien pleaded. “Tell me more about what happened to your parents. Maybe there is something I can do to help.”
“Help? Humans are not usually in the mood to help dragons. These days, humans are usually tricking and capturing and torturing and killing dragons. So what does one puny girl think she can do to help?”
Darien’s face fell with disappointment. “I guess I don’t know. I thought maybe . . . maybe I could help you think of a plan, if I knew more about what happened.” She began to sniffle. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t want to be left all alone. I’m lost. You’re the only friends I have here.” Her tears fell and left dark splatters on the ground. She rubbed the wetness off of her cheeks with an embarrassed swipe of her arm.
The dragon Amani mused over this while Darien waited nervously in silence. Finally he spoke to Tabo. “So she thinks we’re friends, huh? Too soon to tell, I say. Still, I suppose we owe her something for helping you while I was gone.” Amani’s eyes softened. “I didn’t know if you’d still be alive when I got back, little one. After Father was captured, I came back as fast as I could. I promise, I’ll figure out a way to get them back. I promise. . . .” Tabo looked deep into his eyes, then he gently rubbed his nose under her chin.
Amani turned once again to Darien. “Well, what should I do with you? I suppose I can take you home with us temporarily. I’m not sure you will fit in with the humans here, but I guess we can figure that out later. In any case, our family owes you a debt of gratitude, and I will not dishonor them by leaving you here.”
