ShadeOfWinter

Look around
Leaves are brown, now
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Empty Inkwell

Trinkets

A darkened glass bottle that once held ink. There are remnants of fluid crusted on the bottom and rim.

80

The scritch-scritch-scritch of the pen on the page is a comforting sound. The sight of all the little columns, neatly filled, with everything in its place, is pleasing. But his favourite thing in the world is the contrasting scents of the ink and parchment; one sharp and fresh, the other warm and a little musty. They fill him with a perfect, calm contentment.

He fills in the final box in the last column and lays down the fat, elegant pen he uses for the ledgers. Yes, today's numbers are very satisfying. The trip across Dragonhome had been profitable. True, hunting had been bad and their food stores were badly depleted, but they will have more than enough time and treasure to restock when they arrive at the Gladeveins. Their clan leaders should be pleased. Way, the quartermaster, should be very pleased.

Deloitte appears to collect the pen and his bottles of ink, and return it to its elegant case. By the time this is done, the ink on the scroll has dried. The Serthis rolls it neatly and holds it so that Winter can apply the seal, then tucks it carefully into a case. He nods to his master and slithers out of the tent to deliver the scroll to their leaders.

Winter likes that Serthis. They can work together all day and barely speak a word. Winter had not imagined he could have so much in common with a Serthis - but neither of them had ever really fitted in with their own kind.

Well - Winter really would not fit in at all any more. Even if he did want to go back, he could not. He'd be lucky not to be killed on sight. His parents certainly would not recognise him.

He wondered if he would recognise them. Their faces were faint in his memory these days. As were the faces of most of his old pack. (Pack or Clan? He'd hatched as a Mirror, so "pack" seems appropriate... but he's not sure it feels right. He's pretty sure they were not all Mirrors.)

He takes the book from its holder on his hip. There is a quill in a stand on his table. He invested in a pen for the clan records: he uses that for most of the day, and besides, pen nibs can come out of the clan expenses. He pays for quill nibs himself. They are much cheaper: even though they break more often, they take less wear than the pen nibs and so he does not go through as many of them. It is therefore not worth the extra cost of purchasing a pen for his own use. He has worked it all out.

He carefully records the events of the day. It would be a brief entry: the main purpose of his diary is to record meeting new people or experiences in new places, but there had been none. They were camped at the edge of a town they had visited before, and had traded with another travelling party that they had encountered before. Winter had recalled most of the travelling dragons, which pleased him. He notes their names down anyway, hoping that repetition will help him next time.

As he replaces the quill, he hears voices - no, one voice - outside. Right on cue, Deloitte slithers up.

"Your lady fffriend issss here", he states, before sliding smoothly to the doorway. He holds back the flap so that Rio can wriggle her way through.

Even when she isn't constantly chattering to herself, Rio makes noise. She carries an assortment of bits and pieces slung over limbs and tied to her body: old cookware rattles against bits of dusty armour which clunks against old wooden boxes that ping off grimy bottles filled with gods-knew-what. She smiles when she sees him and immediately starts talking as she clinks and clangs her way to him.

"Hello sweetheart! Did you have a nice day?" She gives him a brief, dusty nuzzle before she carries on talking. "How are the figures looking? You look pleased, are we doing well? I've had a brilliant day, look at this!" She turns and picks up her own tail to show him a particularly fine golden chestplate which she has tied there as a sort of sling. It is carrying two pieces of jewellery that need a good clean, a locked gilded box and a golden helmet which matches the chestplate.

"There are some nice-looking pieces here. Is it all valuable?" he asks her fondly. He has a pretty good idea of what each item is and what it might be worth, since he tracks the clan's sales, but she appreciates him showing an interest in her work.

Rio's smile widens. "It's not going to make us super rich but it's all pretty good stuff. The best find is really the box, you never know what's going to be in there, honestly I've seen all sorts come out of them, they must be magic cos there's no way some of it should fit! I haven't been able to pry it open, I'm going to ask Messy to help me with that one, you know how good she is with locks."

Rio continues to prattle as she wiggles round the tent, unloading a roll of fresh parchment from one of the cooking-pots, producing some bright feathers that would make beautiful new quills from a satchel, and untying two large boxes and some sort of wire thing that turns out to be a storage rack for Deloitte, who is very pleased. Rio looks inelegant, but she moves rapidly and she very rarely knocks over anything important. Winter will never understand how she negotiates her long body and complicated limbs without constantly tripping over herself. He had enough trouble adjusting to his stocky Tundra limbs from his old Mirror form.

Once she has shown Deloitte how to pack the storage rack down, she has to leave for the quatermaster's tent to deposit the rest of her finds in the clan's stores. She departs with a cheery "Bye, boys! See you at dinner! Nuke's making hot sauce!" and a wink at them both.

The tent falls silent, but Rio's boys are smiling. They are both fans of hot sauce.

Intact Parchment

Dragonmade

Perfect for diaries, manifestos, and shopping lists.

15