12.

12.

“One little pebble, sitting on the nest,

one little pebble, sitting on the nest,

and if that little pebble, should accidentally fall...” Annabelle sung, glancing around briefly before flicking the innocent pebble off the edge of the nest to hurtle to the ground. “There'll be no more pebbles, in the nest at all...”

She heaved an exhausted sigh, looking to the lightening sky in the East. She supposed she had no right to feel so impatient, she knew that Sweeper would be hurrying as fast as his stubby wings and lopsided body would allow to deliver his message. She even acknowledged that she had bestowed the tiny Dragon with a behemoth of a task, in comparison to his tiny size, as she had no idea where Gertrude actually was. Part of the Magick which created the messenger Dragons, was the ability to find the addressee, but that doesn't mean its any easier to actually get to them, if they're half a world away.

Annabelle sighed dejectedly and wobbled to her feet, searching out more pebbles to throw as she passed the potentially long waiting time ahead of her with childrens songs. Once she had gathered a small pile of various debris she could almost label as pebbles, she set ten of them in a line across the edge of the nest again.

She paused, clutching one handed at her stomach as she groaned tiredly. She looked to the East once more, the first sliver of the sun appearing on the horizon. She sighed and sat herself back into a small padded area she had managed to make with a few leftover feathers.

“Ten little pebbles...” She began to sing once again.