“Mom, mom! Look…”
The caramel-haired boy, whom as Wizbun knew, sometimes tasted like his hair looked, had leaped from the couch where the rabbit cowered, and caught the little dragon neatly in his hands.
Now, the scared rabbit crept a little out to see his Mistress standing on the stairs, while her son ran up them to show her what he held.
“I see your present opened itself.” She reached out a fingertip to tickle the little dragon’s belly. It made a small chortle, and blew a smoke ring.
Wizbun huffed. He might be fooling them, but he’d been making fire, not that long ago.
“Better go put him in the oven for the night, dear.” Mistress came down the stairs after the boy and made a beeline for the rabbit, who had hastily kicked his willow staff with it’s crystal marble shooter under that couch. She didn’t know what he could do, and he wasn’t sure she would like it.
“And you, mister, need to be in your cage. Limited playtime until the tree comes down, I’m afraid.”
Warm, strong hands scooped him up and placed him gently, with an extra pat and ear rub by way of apology, in his cage. Wizbun didn’t mind, for a change. He burrowed into his hay, and listened to the house grow quiet again. But as he fell asleep, visions of a scaly beast danced before his eyes, and he knew they would meet again.