Page 59 - Fearless Females
P. 59
Dragon: Drop that Icon!
“No!” screamed Fyodor. “You do not exist! This is some kind of
trick! A conjurer’s illusion! You are under arrest! I, Fyodor Ivanovich
Lobachevsky, chief of police, command you: dragon, drop that icon!”
“Not a chance,” said the dragon, and belched a plume of hot gas
and flame at the man in his path.
Fyodor ducked and dived sideways, falling in a heap by the wall of
the church. He was alive, but his eyebrows and the fur on his collar
were singed, and his face felt like it had blasted by a furnace. The
assembled peasantry fell back as the dragon lumbered past and
turned down the street toward the edge of town.
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