The nights are long here. The frost nips at your scales. But I’ve always been stubborn. Thick-shelled, as they say. So I’ve stuck to it.
The first days were the hardest. I dared not try and fish, with the giants lurking. But hunger makes brave hatchlings of us all, so I dove in, and found the waters calm.
As for the actual job, it has proven a tough egg to crack.
The ferryman did not lie when he said ironwood bark was as tough as a mammoth tusk. Ours is to wait for the smaller fruit to harvest.
This book was included in Bittercup from the Creation Club