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Taffy had assured the younger boy that the tale of the dragon would indeed be scary. Or at least he hoped so. Whatever good would a story of dragons be if it were not the sort that sent chills up your back.
‘But all you have to remember is,’ he told Dorlind, ‘it’s just a story and a long done one if I understood him right.’
He’d finished the two little whistles by the time he heard his mother call him and Seren in. They had three little holes each, and on Dorlind’s he had carved the outline of a little bird and on Daisy’s, a flower to match her name. ‘That way she can’t take yours if she’s lost her own and say it’s hers.’ He looked at Seren as she came running toward the porch. ‘Girls can be quite sneaky you know,’ he said to Dorlind, handing him the whistles. ‘And fathers always seem to side with them!’ He nodded his head in a knowing way at his friend. ‘Anyways, we’ve got to go in now and have supper.’
Taffy stood up and took his sister by the hand. As they hurried to the door he called back over his shoulder. ‘See you after the meal’s done!’
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