Книга только для ознакомления
. Kyra had meant so
much to him, and he had done so little for her. He felt
suddenly ashamed, realizing that he had been selfish,
always taking. Why didn't he give her gold dust for her
clothes? Why didn't he chisel her teeth, too? He could have
done all sorts of things for her. But he hadn't. And what
could he give her now?
He stared at her limp, cold body and then lifted his gaze
to the painting of Seron. Then he looked a bit closer . . .
Something was missing. The picture didn't seem quite
right. He studied it for a long, quiet moment, trying to
discover what was overlooked.
Ah, I know what it is, Tosch said to himself. It's so
obvious! He spoke a magical incantation and then slapped
his tail against the ground three times.
Kyra was in the picture with Seron. Now it was right.
They were laughing and crying in each other's arms
alive in their art. Within the bounds of the canvas, Seron
and Kyra were living, breathing, loving souls.
Tosch flapped his wings with joy. He had made Kyra
happy. When he turned to fly away, he heard Seron say to
his beloved, "You are ALL the woman I had hoped you
would be."
"Now THAT'S a good painting," said the dragon as he
flew off into the night
|