mjblathers

dark poet who loves to laugh


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Todd and Little Lost Dragon

He ducked, crouching into the clay bank beside the exposed willow roots. He shivered, but that had to be because he was splashed wet and there was a breeze kicking at his bare legs and damp shoulders. It was probably his little brothers. Those twins could sure be a nuisance. But the sound was heavier somehow; Todd knew it wasn’t Ned and Travis. Oh, they were noisy enough, but this was different. Scary, though Todd bristled at even the thought that he could be scared. Seven years old and scared of something on this here farm: never! Not one of the Paisler boys. There weren’t no scaredy cats among the Paisler brothers.