“MAYBE!” Poppy snapped at Celeste for what felt like the hundredth time.

“It’s always ‘maybe’,” Celeste replied, her eyes narrowing in frustration,” You’re always conveniently doing something with family! Or work! Or- You get the point! Even teensy little Eloise thinks riding a dragon is OK. Why can’t YOU?”

Poppy hesitated before answering, which was unnoticeable as Celeste was too busy being irate with her to notice, then saying with the most deadpan face,” Because— I’m just, it’s Autumn, Celeste. You know how busy us elves are...”

“I do!” Celeste roared frustratedly, making Poppy cower slightly in the corner,” But somehow I can manage to find time off work to negotiate with you! Come on, Poppy! It’s been our dream since we were 3!”

Poppy crosses her arms and riposted,” It’s not my fault the humans are wanting the harvest. You KNOW what type of elf I am and why I’m crucial during autumn-time. But I suppose you’re just as useless as Kathryn as you have so much leisure time.”

When Celeste didn’t reply, Poppy simpered,” I’ll MAYBE go.”

Celeste was positively bouncing with excitement. She was FINALLY going to ride that dragon!

She was riding one with verdigris scales, with large spikes in cornflower blue covering every few inches of her dragon, a rare Seajewelled Forest Dragon, named Iona by the finders of this particular dragon. Celeste and Iona were quick on the uptake of friendship, and Iona was extremely thrilled to learn Celeste was going to be her rider.

It was finally Riding Day, Celeste thought jovially, but her heart ached as she glanced at a large canary yellow dragon... the one Poppy was supposed to be riding, but wasn’t. Celeste had gotten another ‘maybe’ yesterday when she’d brought up the idea of dragon-riding to Poppy, and had been so vexed she decided she didn’t need Poppy to ride a dragon.

Celeste climbed Iona and sat comfortably on the saddle, and after a moment, Iona flapped her elephantine wings and they were off. Celeste could catch swift glimpses of tiny mushroom houses with fairies dancing inside, large trees with windows on the front and substantial oak doors with smooth silver rappers, some fairy-made wooden huts with lopsided windows and several chimneys, some with windchimes and others with signs and overgrown grassy roofs. There was a plain of azure water stretched across the lands, waves crashing against the beach, bouncing back and forth, twirling and pirouetting like a dancer, the frothy white foam highlighted against the colbat sea.

Then she heard something she didn’t expect to hear; another dragon’s deafening roar. Celeste snapped her head around, wand firmly in hand, a spell at the tip of her tongue, when she saw something startling...

Poppy, on her neon-yellow dragon. She grinned at me, then yelled,” I never said no, Celeste! Only ‘maybe!’”

She smiled back, then hollered back,” Maybe you’ll catch up with Iona then! Race you!”