The Dragon's Imprint

The willow branches dragged through the slow green shallows of the river, their leaves catching on the corners of a lacquered blackwood chest. Mina hitched her linen skirts into the waistband of her apron and stepped into the water, the autumn chill biting her ankles through wool stockings. She drew the sodden chest up onto the dry moss of the bank, its bronze latch already sheared away by the river's rocks. When she lifted the lid, heat washed over her face like the breath of a summer hearth, cradling an egg the color of river pearls that shuddered against velvet lining. A sharp fracture split the shell from crown to base. Through the breach rolled a wet, soot-nosed creature no larger than a hare, shaking crumpled wings of translucent slate. It let out a reedy, chirping cry, lunged across the damp moss, and pressed its warm snout firmly into Mina's palm, its bright amber eyes locking onto hers with a sudden, bone-deep certainty. Her chest tightened around an unfamiliar, fierce pull; before she could draw breath, the sound of iron-shod boots broke the silence of the alders. A tall rider strode through the bracken, his black steel armor etched with the delicate overlapping scales o…