Misti and the Dragon Egg

It was dark in this forest. Because she was sindur and thus gifted with cat eyes, Misti could clearly see the tanwar, even through the scrubs. She didn’t need a torch or a blessing of light. Her blue eyes could capture even the faintest glimmer, and even if it was nighttime, the forest was never in total darkness. The tanwar was behind a wall of palm trees that cracked softly in the wind. Misti had made it to the clearing north of Sadarka, Tazman, where the tanwar was located.

“Go north. You’ll see the Trou Pigre—don’t fall because there are crocodiles!” the guide had told her. “Follow the trail for two hundred and twenty-two steps, then go east. There is a clearing. She will be there.”

Two hundred and twenty-two steps, maybe for a human! She was at three hundred something by now. Misti was small. Even if she was close to her adult height, she was still the size of a human child.

Misti slid through the wall of palm trees and into the clearing. She’d expected a cave or pit when the guide had said tanwar, but it was a house. A large hut with dark wood walls and a roof of clay and leaves. There were definitely people in there, she could hear their voices. Three different people, to be exact. Here, in this clearing, the air was dry and smelled of fruit. Misti looked up to the starry sky. She had arrived.

Misti circled the house to find the front door. She wasn’t going to try and sneak in because she needed to talk to those people inside. She passed a window and took a peek: just a few couches and crates in a dark room, but there was light flickering around the corner. The voices came from there. No one seemed to notice her so far, which wasn’t surprising. After all, she was sindur, and sindurs were masters of stealth. She didn’t even need to make an effort to move silently.

Misti found the door. She took a deep breath before knocking. She was where she needed to be and needn’t worry. The girl-cat had come all this way, she and her big backpack, to find someone who’d be able to help. Her temple wasn’t so far, just a few days north-west by carriage, back in low Gurdal. Whoever she was about to meet could help her get further in her quest. Misti had learned to speak adequately through her teachings, like humans and elves did. She was good with words and especially talented at convincing others. She would ask the people inside to help her, and everything would be fine. This was only the beginning. If those people refused to help, Misti would go back home.

Knock, knock, knock.

No answer. However, all sounds around Misti had come to a stop. She wanted to knock again, but she was interrupted by the pain in her shoulder. Her backpack, too heavy for her, had become a real nuisance. She placed the backpack on the floor, adjusted her cloak, and knocked again.

The door flung open, and a large man slashed a sword way above Misti’s head. Misti didn’t flinch at all, not because she wasn’t scared, but because it had happened so fast that she was frozen. She looked up, her breath on pause. The man was frowning and scratching his head, confused. From his height, he had not seen her.

After a few seconds of wondering what would happen next, Misti decided to take matters into her own hands. She cleared her throat.

“H-hi...” she stuttered. “Down here!”

Her little voice had caught the man’s attention. He looked down, frowned again, then his features softened.

“A child?” the man asked rhetorically. “Sindur...”

“Ehm, just sindur!” Misti was thirteen years old, not a child, but she’d keep her calm. “I’m looking for the Fixer.”

The man was dark-skinned with wide green eyes. He wore a thin white shirt too small for his oversized arms.

His frown returned as he examined Misti and the backpack by her side. “Looking to sell something?”

Misti shook her furry head. ’No.” An awkward silence, then she spoke again. “Are you the Fixer?”

The man was about to say something.

“Ki moun ki la?” A woman suddenly asked in a different tongue.

The voice came from inside, from beyond the lights that flickered. Misti didn’t understand the language. The man examined her again, mainly her clothes.

“Yon ti fi chat,” the big man replied. “Li vle weh ou. Fixateur.”

Misti had no idea what had been said, but the man obviously talked about her. He answered to the mysterious woman inside the house like she was his boss.

“Let her in,” the woman finally said. She had the thick accent of the region.

The man instantly stepped aside. Whoever the woman was, she was definitely his boss. Misti took a step forward, then remembered her bag. She turned around, seized it, looped it over her shoulder, and stepped inside the Fixer’s tanwar. She passed the couches, the crates and bookshelves. The big man escorted her to a small hallway with an open door around the corner.

Inside the room was a woman seated at a wooden desk. A candelabra on the edge of the desk was lit, and the woman seemed distracted. She had parchments in one hand and a quill in the other.

The woman handed the papers to someone behind the wall. She said some words in their language, and the man appeared into Misti’s field of view. He was as large as the first man, dark-skinned too, but his eyes were small and black as night. He looked at Misti, puzzled, then headed out the hut.

“Come on in, please,” the woman said and motioned with her hand.

She had bracers made of gold around her forearms. Upon a closer look, Misti noticed those weren’t bracers at all. They were jewelry.

Misti entered the room, the woman’s office, and stood still by the desk. The girl-cat concluded there and then that this woman was probably the Fixer. The candlelight reflected on her brown skin like hues of gold. The woman had no hair and wore a blue necklace around her neck. She wore the brown and red leathers of Tazman rangers, but her jewelry and bronze rouge gave her a touch of nobility. Misti had never seen a woman dressed this way. She’d only met temple nuns and pilgrims in her life. Warrior women had always belonged to the stories she’d read in secret.

The woman invited Misti to take a seat, and the girl-cat complied. Now was the time to return to the matter at hand and discuss her quest.