“Retreat!” Eydeth screamed as he scrambled down the hill.
Jahrra caught one last glimpse of him before he rushed out onto the cobblestones below with his teammates. She laughed out loud when she counted the paint marks on his back. Plenty to put his team out of the running.
When they were certain that the enemy had fled their camp, the six friends climbed down from their respective hideouts: Gieaun, Kihna and Rhudedth from the redwoods and Pahrdh and Scede from the second story porches of the closest buildings.
“That was fabulous!” Pahrdh proclaimed, throwing his arms in the air and giving Gieaun and his sister a hug.
Scede looked as if he wished to extend the same gesture towards Kihna, but before he could decide, she made the decision for him.
“You did so great!” she said as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “You shot everyone at least twice!”
Jahrra hid a grin as she watched her friend turn bright red.
Before any more celebrations could take place, the distant school bell began ringing.
Jahrra brightened immediately and glanced at all her grinning friends. “The game’s over! Let’s go see if we’ve won!”
The six of them gathered their own flag and carefully removed the other three from their hiding places and ventured back towards the schoolhouse. They walked confidently through the center of town, though they kept a wary eye out for people seeking revenge. Luckily, there were enough adult volunteers around to catch anyone trying to cheat.
The look on Eydeth’s face when they finally all gathered in front of the schoolhouse was worth all the hard work Jahrra and her friends had exerted that day. When he saw them, he glared maliciously, but all Jahrra did was smile widely and flap out his banner as if she were taunting a bull. He crossed his arms and darted his eyes in another direction, his face turning dark red in anger.
It took Professor Tarnik and the adult volunteers a good twenty minutes to tally up all the points for each team. Jahrra patiently tolerated their examination, wondering if maybe she’d been hit more than she thought. The other teams, she had observed, looked just as messy as she and her friends did.
Finally, Tarnik had all the tallies and he was ready to proclaim a winner.
“In third place is the blue team. Although they lost their banner, they suffered the fewest wounds and were able to inflict enough on the other teams to earn a sizeable score.”
Everyone clapped politely.
“In second place, the red team. They were able to successfully capture the blue team’s banner and receive very few wounds as well.”
The applause continued.
“And in first place, the team with the most points and the winners of a day off from school . . . the purple team!”
The clapping and cheering was louder this time, even though Eydeth’s team didn’t participate.
When everyone quieted down, Tarnik continued blandly, “Although they garnered the most wounds from other teams, they also inflicted the most onto others. And,” he paused and gave Jahrra a suspicious glare, “they managed to keep their own flag and capture three others. Congratulations.”
Jahrra didn’t think his best wishes were sincere, but she smiled anyways as she and her friends started making plans for their day off.
Hroombra glanced up from the manuscript he was reading when Jahrra clambered through the door. He was reclining at his great desk and had been waiting eagerly to hear how she and her friends had fared in their game, though one would not know it from his relaxed posture and calm gaze. It wasn’t quite full dusk, but Jahrra started lighting candles anyways as she made her way across the room.
The dragon eyed her curiously as she approached. “I see you were hit,” he mused, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Jahrra sighed, but threw a smile over her shoulder as she stretched to light one of the higher candles. “Yes, but not nearly as much as Eydeth was. And besides, my team won.”
She beamed blissfully, recalling the events of the past several hours. Jahrra almost snorted at the sudden memory of hitting Ellysian right in the seat of her pants. Oh, what a glorious day it had been!
Jahrra finished with the candles and walked over to the great dragon, pulling up a chair and plopping down in it across the desk from him. She was exhausted, grimy and ready to fall asleep where she sat. She leaned back in her chair and held out her arm, examining the loose sleeve of her shirt. There were a few multi-colored stains there, but they had transferred themselves from her legs and torso. She knew she had at least three marks on her back, two on her stomach, one on her shoulder and hip, and several more on her legs. Yes, it had been a rather exhausting day.
Grinning, Jahrra leaned forward and stared at her guardian. He politely ignored her, his great amber eyes moving back and forth behind his spectacles as he read away.
Eventually, he took a patient breath and without looking up, he said, “Yes Jahrra?”
“Aren’t you going to tell me about the student that owned these clothes?” she asked with a grin, gesturing to the stained garments she wore. “If I recall correctly, we were interrupted the other morning when Gieaun and Scede came by.”
Hroombra pressed his great hand against the scroll he was reading and looked up at her, brow arched. He took off his spectacles and placed them aside, giving her his full attention.
“What would you like to know?”
Jahrra’s eyes grew wide. Wait, he’s actually going to tell me? Really?
Jahrra choked on her words for a few moments as they tried to fight their way free. “Was he a noble?” she blurted.
Eyes glittering and his mouth quirked in a small smile, Hroombra nodded once.
“How old was he when he wore these?” she continued, pulling the dirty shirt away from her stomach.
“Oh, a little younger than you I believe, ten or eleven maybe.”
Jahrra grinned. “Was he just as stubborn and determined as me?”
Hroombra gave a full smile, but Jahrra thought she saw a hint of sadness in his eyes.
“Oh, very much so, Jahrra. In fact, you remind me so very much of him that I sometimes think I can see his presence in you somehow. It is impossible, I know, but that is the only way I can explain it.”
Jahrra was about to ask what had happened to him, but thought better of it. Perhaps he had moved on when he was too old for a dragon mentor anymore. Or perhaps he had fled in fear when dragons were adopted as the enemy throughout their world. Maybe, judging by her guardian’s moment of sadness, something even more tragic had occurred.
Instead, Jahrra cleared her throat and went for a safer question, “Did he wear clothes like this every day?”
“Yes, actually. And sometimes every night.”
Jahrra opened her mouth to ask something else, but tripped on her tongue when what Hroombra had said registered.
She switched questions. “What?”
Hroombra gestured at her outfit and said nonchalantly, “The garment you chose to wear as a shirt was his night robe and those, um, ‘leggings’ would be worn under a pair of trousers.”
Jahrra merely stared at him and then her eyes grew wide and she felt the blood rushing to her face. She shot her hands to her mouth and said, “You mean I just spent the entire day traipsing through Aldehren in, in, some boy’s underwear!?”
Hroombra merely grinned and said, “Afraid so.”
Jahrra screeched and bolted from her chair, heading for her room. She didn’t even hear Hroombra’s chuckle trailing after her as he got back to his manuscript.