The dragon knew the way to its dry stables. It navigated through the thick fog covering the marshes with out guidance from its rider; touching down in front of the dwarfs' house in the wee hours of the morning. Sunday carried the little human inside, wondering why she was so much heavier no that she was asleep. He constructed a makeshift bed next to the hearth out of pillows and fluffy winter coats, then gently tucked her in.
Friday, oblivious to the late hour and sleeping occupants of the house, banged open the front door a moment later, upsetting a a teetering pile of dishes which clattered to the floor and earning a stern "shush" from Sunday. Fortunately, Alf continued to sleep peacefully. The poor child was exhausted from the ordeals of the past two days. Friday and Sunday smiled at each other, then tiptoed downstairs to catch some shuteye themselves.
Yeah this is short, but at least I'm writing something, right?
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