11.

11.

Annabelle glared at a leaf she held in her left palm, utterly unimpressed by its unco-operative behaviour.

“Mirabelle can do it, I can damn well do it.” She muttered to herself, sighing as she closed her eyes and tried once more to clear her mind of endless thoughts and the constant hazy pain. She took a long breath letting the Autumnal scents permeate deep within her.

“Whispered words in midnight...” She paused, peeking briefly up at the sky abover her before closing her eyes again with a small shrug, “ish, hour. I call upon the moons own power. Take this message swift and true. To the... place I long you too..?” She finished uncertainly. She helf her breath, and opened her eyes, exhaling loudly when she beheld the same ordinary looking leaf in her palm. “Ok,” she sighed, running her free hand through her short spikes. “Try, try again. The first dozen tries are all practise anyway...”

She repeated her entire process once more, wishing with her whole heart that the spell would take this time. She groaned when it appeared her luck had abandoned her, as she once again opened her eyes to a ordinary leaf in her hand.

“Work goddammit!” She growled, throwing the leaf aside in disgust. “Do as you're damn well told...” She sighed, looking around the nest she was still trapped in, as if some new means of ecape might have shown up since the last time she looked. She rubbed her right arm absentmindedly, until a particularly sharp stab of pain maded her wince and sigh in resignation.

“No needs for shoutings.” Came a wry, rather disgruntled voice with a slight lisp, somewhere to her left. Annabelle jumped, caught off guard by the sudden sound.

“Uh...” She frowned, seeing no new addition in the nest that might have addressed her.

“Articulates one, eh?” Rattled the new voice, sounding oddly torn between irritation and amusement. “Well, won'ts be the firsts time I faced a challenge.”

“Challenge..?” Mirabelle asked uncertainly, too confused to understand any meaning behind the words.

“Ooh, whole words already? Goods sign, maybe ya's not quite so's brainless as ya's looks.” The dry voice said drolly, yet managing to sound surprised at the same time.

“What the f-”

“Ah, ah, ah!” The voice tutted, disapproval thick in its tone. “None of thats, thank ya's. I ain'ts one of thems profanity messengers. I gots some standards, yeah?”

Annabelle looked down at the leaf she had disgarded. Although still appearing crisp and brittle, the leaf was moving independantly. The creatures head had one eyes slightly larger than the other, and the opposite ear seemed almost as if it were torn, like the creature had been in a fight. The small beings wings were almost comically too small to carry its weight for flight, but it seemed to hover relatively well for short periods, as it hopped from twig to twig agitatedly. As it settled itself on a small piece of eggshell, it curled its tail around its body twice.

Annabelle couldn't help but wince, not sure whether she should be overly proud of the somewhat lopsided body of her message Dragon, but pleased enough that she had finally managed to succeed in summoning one. She stared in awe as it tested its tiny paws, sharpening its equally tiny claws on a twig which cropped out from the nest near to its perch.

“Yeah, yeah. I knows I'm a handsome fellas, but thats no needs for staring girlie. Don'tcha knows its rude?” Annabelle almost laughed at the tiny Dragon's attitude, thinking that under different circumstances she might be impressed with the tiny beings huge ego.

“Sorry, spells don't really like me.” She offered as a sort of half baked apology.

“That's is 'cuz ya uses ya head insteads of ya hearts.” The small Dragon scolded.

“Look, shut up alright! I did my damn best!” Annabelle frowned, irritated her messenger had quite so much to say on the matter of her failings. “I thought you guys were supposed to be all nice, and helpful and... stuff.”

“I ams helping.” The Dragon replied, scratching his torn ear with the spiky tip of his tail. “I'm tellings ya why ya's rubbish at magicks.”

“Well you could still be nicer about it.” Annabelle pouted. “I woke up from a hundred and thirty years of forced sleep like... Ok, I dunno how long its actually been now, but it wasn't long ago!” She sulked.

“We's are what the makers makes us.” The Dragon explained, cocking his head curiously. “So, does ya's haves a message, or dids ya's just wants some of's my sparklings personality to keeps ya's company in ya's... home..?”

“What, this isn't...” Annabelle shook her head, refusing to defend herself to her messenger. “Never mind. Right, message, message...” She tried to organize her thoughts, hurriedly planning a rough message in her head. “Ok, um, my message is; “She cleared her throat and met the small creatures gaze.

“'Gert, you great hog-troll! I had a slight issue with coming over and, I need you to come and get me'...” She paused, eyeing the Dragon curiously. “Uh, do you... have a name, or something?” She asked uncertainly.

“Ya mades me girlie, hows the hell shoulds I know?” The Dragon quipped, his tongue seeming to loll from his mouth in an odd lizardish grin.

“Ok, Mr unhelpful.” Annabelle grumbled, rolling her eyes. “I think I'll just go ahead and call you... Sweeper.”

“What?” The Dragon asked flatly, clearly unimpressed.

“What? You try thinking of a badass name on the spot, at short notice like that.” Annabelle huffed, thankful for the darkness of the night to hide how her cheeks were no doubt turning pink.

“Hows is 'Sweeper' badass?” The Dragon demanded.

“Because; you're gonna sweep away all my problems!” Annabelle crowed cheerfully.

“Ya aware thats makes no sense, yes?” The Dragon sighed, “I sounds like a brooms.” He added morosely.

“You sound awesome.” The Fårie insisted stubbornly.

“Ya, sounds delusional.” The Dragon muttered quietly, to which Annabelle very maturely stuck out her tongue. “Wells. Now ya've decided on this... awesome, name for me,” the Dragon rolled his eyes at his own heavy sarcasm, “does ya have anything mores to adds to ya message?”

“Oh, right yeah...” Annabelle cleared her throat and began her message anew. “Gert, great hot-troll, blah blah, stuck in a nest so come get me bee-arch! Follow Sweeper here, he can lead you back to me.” She paused, tilting her head as she eyed the Dragon curiously. “You, can do that right?”

“I does as I's told by my makers.” Sweeper replied, sounding thoroughly depressed by that fact.

“Awesome.” Annabelle muttered, offering her left palm for a Dragon to Fårie high five. Sweeper glared flatly at the proffered hand, his disintered in the gesture quite clear in his expression. “Don't make me order you,” the Fårie warned.

Sweeper rolled his eyes and heaved a heavy, long-suffering sigh as he reluctantly tapped his tiny paw to his makers outstretched palm.

“Awesome.” Annabelle repeated, a huge pleased grin spilling across her face. “Ok, you may go now minion. Deliver my message to Gertrude Vine, and then lead her back here.” She commanded.

“As my makers wishes.” Sweeper acknowledged glumly. He crawled over to the edge of the nest, scrambling up the side awkwardly, where he threw the Fårie one last reproachful glare, before leaping off into the night air.

Annabelle tried, and largely failed, not to laugh at the sight of his tiny wings,barely carrying his weight. She managed to stifle herself as he inched slowly downwards, pressing her left hand to her mouth and hoping whole heartedly that he couldn't hear her.

When he was finally devoured by the darkness, she lowered her hand, grinning softly at the thought of her newly acquired minion, as she waited for his return with help.