This was a bad thing to see on the faces of so many adults. Now they were familiar strangers, trying to look somber and serious and mostly just looking scared and a little uncertain. Up until about an hour ago, they had been his friends and neighbors. If an artist had painted the scene, it would have been Still Life with Armadillo, or perhaps Mob Scene, Interrupted. They stood on the edge of the town: the boy, the armadillo, and the crowd.
The armadillo had about wet himself laughing. His attempts to summon elementals resulted in nosebleeds, and there is nothing more embarrassing than having your elemental leave the circle to get you a tissue, pat you comfortingly, and then disappear in a puff of magic. He only knew three spells, and one of them was to control his allergy to armadillo dander. His familiar reminded him of this several times a day. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.įor our leathery leperous armadillo friends. Production copyright Argyll Productions © 2019Īll rights reserved.
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