River Fisher and Blue Dragon

“Strange,” the many-colored creature said.

It was not the reaction that Halceyx expected. With her beak full—full of the creature—she could not speak. But the creature, who was some kind of water slug, seemed to understand the inquisitive squeak that Halceyx uttered. The creature answered her as if she had spoken.

“Yes, it’s strange that you’re still alive. You have lucked into grasping me in just the right way.”

Halceyx uttered another query in the form of another squeak.

“I possess many different pockets,” the water slug said, “and I keep poisons in them.”

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The Durquin Adventure

I’m trapped inside a rubber duck that’s about to be swallowed by a giant shark.

How did I come to be in this predicament, you ask?

Good question. I’d like to know myself.

But there’s no time for that now.

Because if that shark doesn’t swallow me and Durquin—that’s the duck—in the next three seconds, we’ll both disappear into an abyss of bubbles for all eternity.

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The Last Magnificent Seahorse

The foal peered out at the sea, the forbidding sea, and he wondered. He wondered at what his mother had just told him.

“It can’t be true,” he said, swishing his tail. He was still new to the world, but already he had a favorite thing to do, and it was swishing his tail.

“Why not?” his mother asked. She had warned him not to get too close to the waves. But she need not have. He wasn’t going anywhere near that roaring, reaching, grasping beast that she called “the sea.”

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Matchstick and Mischief

“I’m Matchstick the Mouse. And, hey, I’m actually a mouse. Surprised? I bet you’re wondering how I got my name. You’re not? Wait! Where are you going?”

“Match, who are you talking to?”

“My fans.”

“Why are your fans walking away from you?”

Matchstick raised a furry brow. “Good question.”

“Is that the style you want for your chapters of our memoirs?” Mischief reached for her satchel to pull out a pencil.

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The Garden of Perpetuation

As it so happened, the Houses of the Black Radish, the Purple Carrot, and the Green Garlic all found themselves traveling the rough road that led to the garden of perpetuation.

They traveled thus, the human envoys carrying vegetable plant seed on their persons and vegetable spirit within their persons. As the envoys conversed among themselves, so too did the spirits of the vegetables.

“Root and bulb are we,” said the Radish, with sharp attention. “No tubers do I see.”

“The tubers are well-loved,” the Carrot remarked sweetly. “They have no need of the great garden.”

“So are we well-loved,” said the Garlic with mild bitterness. “Or once were. And will be again, I would wager.”

“But by then it may be too late,” Carrot warned. “We would be gone.”

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