Still a little sorrowful, the dragon replied, “My mother always used to get my books for me. I don’t know where she got them – she already had most. I think a few she traded with my…” she angled her head in thought, “grandmother’s cousin’s daughter.” Era said the last bit uncertainly. She thought that was right but wasn’t certain.
“Oh,” the dragon brightened. “I could show you some magic.” Era swiveled her head, searching for some kind of inspiration. Small, it had to be small magic. There was a small broken branch on the ground nearby. She picked it up. Eyes open, but gaze going distant, she concentrated on the words in her mind. It was hard. Penny being there was distracting. At least she had started with something similar to the end result. The material already wanted to go the right way.
From the twig bloomed a single rose. Its shape was perfect as were its leaves. It wasn’t until Era saw the color of its petals that she groaned, “Oh, that’s not right. Why does this always happen? Red,” she chided the flower. “You were supposed to be red.”
Well, it was probably the best she was going to get. The dragon held the flower out to the girl. “It’s not perfect, but it’s for you – for the story.”