Dragons for the Practical

Dragons should NOT be kept for pets. Sadly, Sandy was just realizing this. She held the small ball of flames in her hand and started panicking. The dragon was somewhere in the ball of flames. The cowhide gloves she was wearing grew hot, and to her horror, caught fire.

Crap.

She needed some water fast. She scanned her room. Everything was wood or cloth! A pail of water sat in the corner. Sandy was tied to her bedpost though! She panicked again, as her hands got dangerously hot. With a snap decision, Sandy said a prayer to her ancestors, and tossed the flaming baby dragon across the room. Sandy missed, by a lot. 

The baby dragon landed right at the foot of her book shelf. Sandy wasted no time tearing off the burning gloves, and working on the rope that tied her to the bed. She had tied herself in hope to keep her from running and showing her brother, who would undoubtedly force her to put it back into the cave she had pulled it from. Now everything was back firing. Sandy undid the knot and risked a glance at her bookshelf. It was… fine?

The dragon was gone, with a spike of fear, Sandy saw that the dragon had burned a hole through her floor to the ground floor of their home. Sandy grabbed the pail of water, and rushed downstair, taking the stairs five at a time, sloshing water all over her. She heard a scream, followed by.

“Sandy!” Sandy burst into the kitchen, flying through the swinging door. Pail of water held at the ready, she was soaked from head to toe, but the pail was still half full. Or half empty. 

Her brother stood with a wooden dough roller, trying to flatten the ball of flames that skirted around the dining table, catching it on fire. Sandy upended her water on the ball of flames as soon as it slowed. Steam filled the room. 

A high pitched wail rose from the baby dragon as it cried on the table. Followed by a deeper roar that came from the sky outside, and shook the foundations of their house.