Stolen

Another Wednesday, another flash fiction. Enjoy the story!

The house sung to Hazel. She paused at the shutters, pressing her hand to the wood. The air hastened past into the night. She glanced at the latch.

“Hazel!” a voice cried full of Aunt Edan’s characteristic distress and haste. “Away from there, girl.” She was yanked before she could comply. “Never, never have I heard such a wind. It carries ill.”

Shrugging out of Edan’s grip, Hazel turned rolling her eyes. “As did the calf born at the Worley’s?” She for reasonable but her voice carried more whine than she wished.

“Creature had no sense being white,” Edan sniffed, “coming from good brown stock.”

Hazel pressed her back against the shutters. “It’s fine and they ain’t fallen to a curse.” She closed her eyes briefly feeling the air move.

Edan shook her head. “Yet,” she said the word stubbornly as if the curse’d take at any moment. “Not a fit topic for tonight. We’re holing up in the cellar.”

Hazel groaned. A night, probably longer, stuck underground with her cousins and aunt? Unbearable. “I’ll watch the house.”

“Rubbish,” Edan said. “Come along.”

The air surged about Hazel as the wall splintered, wrapping about her. Her aunt’s mouth was open, but the scream was silent as the ground dropped below Hazel. She looked up into a shadow filling the sky, leathery wings wide.

Of all the things for Edan to have gotten right, why’d it have to be a dragon stealing her away?

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