A View from a Tree
Sir Beccaroon cocked his head, ruffled his neck feathers, and stretched,allowing his crimson wings to spread. The branch beneath him sank and rose again, responding to his weight. Moist, hot air penetrated hisfinery, and he held his wings away from his brilliant blue sides.“Too hot for company,” he muttered, rocking back and forth fromone scaly four-toed foot to the other on a limb of a sacktrass tree. Theleaves shimmered as the motion rippled along the branch. “Where isthat girl?”His yellow head swiveled almost completely around. He peeredwith one eye down the overgrown path and then scoped out every inch within his range of vision, twisting his neck slowly.A brief morning shower had penetrated the canopy above andrinsed the waxy leaves. A few remainingdrops glistened where thin shafts of trop-ical sun touched the dark green foliage.On the broot vine, flowers the sizeof plates lifted their fiery red petals,begging the thumb-sized bees to comedrink before the weight of nectar brokeoff the blooms.Beccaroon flew to a perch on agnarly branch. He sipped from a brootblossom and ran his black tongueover the edges of his beak. A sudden
Excerpted from The Dragons of Chiril by Donita K. Paul Copyright © 2009 byDonita K. Paul. Excerpted by permission of WaterBrook Press, a division ofRandom House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may bereproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.