Armodillo looked at the obstacle course in front of her. Her trainer, whose name was Deborah, had given her instructions to grab the blue ball and come back without using her wings or falling into the water a few tail-lengths below. Armodillo spotted the ball, and surveyed the plentiful paths she could take to get to the ball.
“Come on, don’t just stand there!” Deborah called from Armodillo’s right. Armodillo shot her a look before hopping to the second floating platform, which wobbled unsteadily as she landed ungracefully.
It had been a few weeks since Armodillo had hatched. She had grown in that time from the size of a house cat to the size of a large dog. Her appetite had grown just as quickly, and she could eat twenty birds a meal if she was really hungry. Not wanting to get herself hungry, Armodillo focused on the maze of floating blue platforms before her.
She hopped, and hopped again, and again, and again, until she reached the ball. She grabbed it in her beak and hopped back to the shore using the same route she had used before.
“Well done!” Deborah said. Amordillo dropped the ball at her feet before prancing around Deborah, who laughed. “Aright, you did your tasks for the day. Come back at sunset. Eat a goblin for me!” Deborah winked.
Deborah hadn’t just taught Armodillo how to run obstacle courses. She had also taught her how to fight, basic math, and, most importantly, history.
The history of the three humanoids was quite an interesting story. Although there were many creatures classified as humanoids, there were three main types, and the three main types were the most intelligent of the humanoids.
The first were the humans. Perhaps the most dangerous, they were sneaky, strong, smart, and greedy. They used weapons made of iron and steel to fight opponents, and an armed human could easily kill a fully-grown dragon. They loved treasure.
The second were the witches. Like humans, just with lime-green skin and orange hair. Most were born with magical powers, and most witches were female. Deborah was a witch.
Finally, there were the goblins. Small and green, about half the size of a human. Smart, they used machinery to get their way. However, they could be startled or scared by just about anything, and often ran off cliffs in their terror.
Goblins, Armodillo thought to herself. That was her purpose. The witches were worried that the goblin’s machinery were made to fight, and multiple of their small camps had been destroyed by goblins. Armodillo was born to destroy the goblin’s machinery to stop them from destroying all the races, including the other dragons.
Armodillo flexed her claws as she flapped her tiny wings rapidly, lifting herself off the ground and heading toward the large, nearby mountain that loomed in the distance. It was said that somewhere on the mountain lay the Goblin City. Armodillo doubted its existence, considering she’d explored most of the mountain and hadn’t found a single goblin.
Deep in thought, she flew away from the Shadow Lake, snatching a few crows from the air as she went.
🐉
The sky was turning into molten gold when Armodillo returned. She hadn’t found any goblins, but she had found a human tending to a flock of sheep and had enjoyed terrorizing him. Now, her belly was content and full of mutton, and she quietly flew to the tent where she and Deborah stayed.
Deborah turned around and sighed in relief. “Good, you came back. I was beginning to get worried.” Deborah patted Armodillo’s scaly head and Amodillo purred softly.
Deborah returned to her bed, and Armordillo walked to her small, lake-reed nest that was tucked into the corner of the tent. Curling into a small ball, Armodillo closed her eyes, and slowly fell asleep…
🐉
Armodillo woke up as Deborah cried out, “Please don’t hurt her! She’s just a chick!”
Armordillo opened her eyes to see a witch above her, sword in hand, and she quickly rolled to her right, narrowly avoiding the blow that slashed her nest in half. Armodillo scrambled to her feet and snarled at the witch.
Why are they trying to kill me!? They made me!
Deborah was at the entrance of the tent, trying to get in, but two armored witches held her back. Deborah’s eyes met Armodillo’s, and Deborah shouted, “Run, Armodillo! Run!”
Armodillo was torn. She couldn’t just leave her trainer here to this chaos! But Deborah had ordered her to run. And Armodillo would surely die if she tried to fight the angry sword-wielding witch in front of her.
I’ll come back for you, Deborah, Armodillo promised as she made her decision. She scrambled around her destroyed nest and slipped through a hole in the bottom of the tent.
The sword-wielding witch yelled, “Come back here!” And tried to grab Armodillo’s tail as she slipped through the gap, but she was too quick for the witch, and Armodillo fled into the night, flying away as fast as she could to the mountain.
She found a shadowy cave near the top of the mountain and crash-landed in. Confused and dismayed at what had just happened, she curled into a ball and began to sob. She soon fell asleep.
