Written by Kerry Elizabeth Blickenderfer-Black, 21 November, 2013
The knight was certainly shining in his silvery armor, the sun reflected nearly blinding. There was not much time for thought. Baltha stretched his bat-like wings and shoved, hard, pushing with his two, stubby legs.
Knights were forever doing this, charging about with spears and swords, trying to prove their worth by bringing back some unfortunate creature’s head. Because of their zeal, not many of Baltha’s kind remained, and those who did hid most of the time.
The knights pretended Baltha and his brethren breathed fire and crunched virgin’s bones. Wyvern did not, however, do these things. Their larger cousins, the dragons, did. Fraudulent knights rarely went after challenging dragons, though, opting for the meek Wyvern instead for quick acclaim.
Today, though, the afternoon sun warmed the standing stones, which was Baltha’s favorite place to stretch his aching joints. He came out of hiding to visit the summer, only to be faced with Mr. Shiny Armor. Luckily, his wings, creaking from confinement, felt restored by the summer’s golden ministrations. He lifted into the cloud-filled sky, spiraling away from the knight.
The knight cursed, distracted by Baltha’s departure, and did not notice the wyvern’s cousin emerging from behind the standing stone.