#baronyofthesilverwolf

"Huh? Yeah, kiln gets hot." She offers Citron an altoid.

"Is it insulated on the outside?" Art reaches out to lay a hand on the brick, but hesitates before touching it.

She nods. "Yeah, there's insulation - it'll be warm, but it won't burn you."

"Just don't touch the pipes."

"Muppet thinks he's so smart... hanging out here in the Winter like he did and the other dogs didn't know about it" amused "I hear he'll be staying around"

"Oh! Oh, yeah. That must be why he hung around." She blushes.

Citron is delighted, crunching on the minty treat!

Art lays his hand on the stone, between a couple of the decorated tiles, and concentrates. A small glimmer of glamour, flowing from him, and away into the kiln. He pulls back, looking a touch depleted, but satisfied.

"So that explains why he also would sit out in the snow waiting for you to arrive every afternoon after school? Rather than sit in a warm kennel?"

"Art has a point"

She rubs the back of her neck.

"The new landlord allows dogs. He's a satyr, y'know. Some tv wrestler. Mom's a fan."

A sharp CRACKSNAPPOP noise, something shattering, from within the kiln!

Citron chimes and zips out the window, even her candy dropped in surprise.

"(&^&^^%!"

"Don't you... *&^^@#!"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to... I didn't think I would hurt it!" Art exclaims, stepping back.

"C'mon..." She plays with dials - too fast there would be a heat shock...

"Didn't mean to what?"

INTENSE guilt. "I just figured, you said it was cold in there when you found it, and the kiln is warm, but there's warm and warm... I just fed a little glamour in, was all."

"Okay okay... "

A squint. "That shouldn't have made it explode..."

The heat simmers down, and soon shows a safe level on the dials. Well, safe enough for salamander gloves, though it will still be a bit of an oven in the workshop when opened.

"I've been told not to mess with someone else's work, I should know better..."

She cranks the bar to open the heavy door.

"Maybe I can fix it?"

"What exactly broke inside it? you think?" She asks

Inside, there is a small heap of slag... shattered bits, crumbled and cracked and dust. A few stray bits, rounded on the inside and scorched on the outside, lay steaming free of the pile.

Was it still wet on the inside? That might cause a greenware piece to burst.. but it seemed dry.

A low whistle as she assesses the damage. The nocker carefully picks through the smoking slag with her gloved hands.

"How could it still have moisture? It was old, that doesn't make any furkin' sense..."

Aha! A small intact lump... it shifts under her prodding finger.

"What's this?" Gentle prodding, and brushing off the ash.

A glint of something that doesn't appear to be clay, but it's hard to see inside the dim interior of the kiln. Art peeks, still nervous. "Is that a gem?"

"A gem? How does it have a gem?"

"Not sure." She scoops up the lump with both hands.

As the rest of the ash and cracked clay bits are carefully brushed away, she's left with a mass perhaps slightly larger than an avocado pit, easily held in the palm of one hand. As Thistle looks closer...

it moves!

"What the flyin' furk?"

Her eyebrows lift and she brings her hands up to her face for a closer look.

Struggling to uncurl itself is a small creature - it almost would blend in with the pattern on her salamander-skin gloves. A tail rolls free, and limbs with tiny claws... a pointed nose... and then eyes open, though still covered with a bit of film, blinking hazily. Could it be...

"Is.. is that a dragon?"

"Holy shit."

She stares. A gentle prod.

It's an drab thing, mottled like scorched clay, and ungainly. It brings to mind a newly hatched baby bird - awkward and gawky... and misshapen. Where it looks like wings may have been placed, are raw nubs with just a shard of membrane, and it has trouble trying to focus, let alone sit up in her palm.

"If that is a dragon, it is not like one I have ever seen. Are they not supposed to be... Majestic?" Art whispers, uncertain.

"Poor little guy" She says "or gal"

"It is majestic!"

"It is a creature of the dreaming, and as such, it is magnificent." Art says, reaching out a finger towards the small creature.

"Lookit, it is the same color as stoneware..."

The head weaves unsteadily, and it snaps at the finger, half-blindly. Art just manages to draw back in time to save his fingertip. Not that it appears to have any teeth yet, just a pink-mouthed maw.

"I wonder if it is done growing? Maybe it will get it's wings and fangs in time?"

"This is so cool."