Tracing the rim of his mug with an index finger, Jamie continued to stare at the journal before him, its pages clogged with scratches and stains and thoughts and notions and ideas. It was a product of his brief bout of flu; something to keep the boredom at bay, to keep his mind awake at times when he would otherwise venture to D'Hellegum and take inventory for the evening.
What had once been a puddle of ink began to evolve and transform, shedding any extraneous material and leaving just a few bold sentences glaring back at its author.
The Rosendahl reached for his quill, his face creased with determination. Flipping the journal to a fresh page, Jamie began to scribble furiously. Throughout his mad sketching, his subconscious kept flipping back to the word that had captured his attention just moments earlier.
Dragon.
