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Martin St. Martin
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On My Verdant Hillock

by Crusty Nodes

Nitram felt alone. Utterly alone. Atop the verdant hillock he could only yearn for a distant glimpse of the dragonfire that he knew, even now, flashed above St. Martin’s School for Especially Gifted Dragonriders and Others Who Would Like To Turn Out To Be Dragonriders Someday.

A place where he could never go.

Cruel Father! His words stung like nettles that had been dipped in iodine, then salt, then iodine again.

“No son of mine would ever want to go to a school like that! Not with their reputation for… perversions. Away with you, Nitram!”

If only father knew...

 

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