Iara's Writing Corner-Prompt Challenge!

[Iara Warriorfeather]

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away (sorry George Lucas), TypingWithPaws had a short story challenge posted here...
http://forums.furtopia.org/furry-storytelling/paws%27s-short-story-challenge/

Taking a cue from this, I'd like you to challenge my writing skills! Starting with a one sentence or one word prompt you provide, I will write a furry themed short story around it and post it here. Only one sentence or one word prompts will be accepted, not both!

Thanks for reading, and I hope I will get some interesting responses! 

Completed Stories-In Order of Appearance
Bakery
Trust is not a scalar
Adventure
Reserve
Interoperability
Interglacial
Defenestration
Modicum
Beware the whispers, for they whisper lies
Derivatives
Concierge
Pandemonium
Determination
Esoterica
Perfunctory
Humans Encounter Furries
Polyglot
Notorious
Scintillate
Banality
Murmuration
Villify
Choleric
Ilk
The loud explosion jarred him awake and nearly out of his tent
Isolation
Through the Arctic
I found a tail/it's so weird when you do that
Ensue
He shattered his femur...


Works in Progress
Contrast

[Kobuk]

Ok, here's your first word:  bakery

[Iara Warriorfeather]

Bakery

An icy cold wind whipped through the busy streets. He tugged on his scarf, unfurled behind him like the flags on a sailboat’s mast. He pulled his overcoat tighter around him, and kept on, making his way past dozens of others in a hurry to get to work. His hot breath curled around him as he walked briskly. He noted typical city furs—well dressed foxes, scrounging rats huddled on the sidewalk near a lit trashcan for warmth, warbling pigeons fluffing up to prevent the cold from seeping into their skin. For miles the same furry folk scowled and shuffled past, unable to meet his eyes or give him a pleasant hello.

He hated the big city, although he’d lived in one for a quarter of his life. He laid back his ears and snarled a little as the cold wind made its way to his ochre spotted fur beneath his winter wardrobe. He hated feeling as cold inside as it was outside—not one fur was warm and approachable, not one wanted to know who he was much less how he was feeling. A raccoon stumbled into him as he made his way past a hot dog cart—“Hey! Watch where yer goin,’ will ya?!” the raccoon barked. He lowered his gaze and kept moving forward, not even bothering to apologize anymore—it seemed like big city furs enjoyed being cold, cruel and self-serving. That, and he disliked the fear in their eyes when he looked at them.

He was a jaguar, far from his beautiful, rugged villa, lost in an urban jungle which seemed all the more vicious as the years went by. Not once had he felt accepted and very little kindness was given him. He sighed, keeping up his pace lest he get howled at again by his boss. He’d been chewed out a lot at work, especially as the holidays approached—time off for others meant double the work for him.

It was then, when he longed for even a taste of home that a scent wafted on the breeze, tickling his whiskers and making him pause his reckless, frantic pace. The other furs on the street milled around him, in just as much of a hurry to scuttle into their cubicles and type away. He lifted his head a little, taking in the scent again. He closed his eyes.

Bread. Freshly baked bread! His heart nearly skipped a beat. How long has it been since I even tasted it?

He noted a side street he rarely took, due to the construction near the area. He walked through the crowd, fighting a way toward the virtually empty side street. The scent of the bread grew stronger, mingled with cream cheese, frosting, and warm chocolate melting on a stove. His tail twitched eagerly and his eyes lit up in anticipation.

He stood at last in front of an adorable bakery, with a giant pink frosted cupcake sign over the door. In the center of the sign was the name of the bakery—Cupcake Sprinkles Tasty Treats. On either side of the bakery were dilapidated businesses—to the left was an old printing company, to the right an abandoned tailor. A few mice and rats scurried past, but no other furs were in sight. He hesitated at the door, looking at his watch. I have just enough time to grab a bite to eat…

He gently pushed open the door. The chiming of tiny bells announced his presence to the busy bakers inside.

The bakers stopped their work as he entered, shaking his fur and reveling in the warmth inside.

Mice. The bakers were all mice. His smile didn’t appease them as he approached the counter. He unwound his scarf and opened his overcoat, batted around his pockets for his wallet.
The bakers scurried into the kitchen, their hushed squeals belying their terror. This was a big cat, and mice were doubly afraid of big cats as they were housecats. They huddled together in the center of the kitchen, their smocks and frocks coated in crumbs, powdered sugar, and pawprints laced with frosting of all colors.

“What do we do?” one wailed. “Where did he come from?”

“We can’t let him eat here! He’ll frighten our kittens!” another chimed in, holding her shivering little ones close.

“We should talk to Cupcake, she’ll know what to do!” one courageous mouse suggested. The others nodded, their whiskers quivering in approval.

A baker poked his quivering nose over the counter, his eyes wild with fright. “We’ll…we’ll be out in a minute!” he squeaked. The jaguar smiled despite his sinking heart, expecting this reaction by now.

“Take your time,” he sighed. He grabbed a copy of the local paper and took a seat by the window, watching the empty side street begin to fill with city furs. He read a few dull articles slowly, peeking over the top every so often at the nerve-wracked hosts.

Hoofbeats clomped on the tile floor. The jaguar looked up, and set down his paper.

A beautiful pastel pink unicorn, all smiles, reached out her hooved paw to shake his. She had a blue, lavender and pale yellow mane and tail, and sky blue eyes. Her apron was in the shape of the cupcake sign outside, with the same coloration. Her nametag was glossy silver, shimmering in the morning sun.

“Hi, I’m Cupcake Sprinkles,” she beamed. “Welcome to our shop! It’s unusual to have visitors, much less exotics like yourself stroll in these days!” They shook paws. He noted how strong her grip was, despite her diminutive stature—she wasn’t much taller than her employees. She leaned into him to whisper, “Pardon my employees…they tend to freak out when we have visitors. They mean no harm, and will warm right up to ya once we put ‘em to work!” She winked at the last part, and he grinned. “What would ya like?”

“Just a croissant and some hot tea, please,” he grunted. The unicorn wrote his order quickly on a bright pink notepad. Her head chef, the male mouse the jaguar had encountered before, snatched the order and bounded into the kitchen, calling it out.

“Make yourself at home,” the unicorn nickered. She turned about and went into her office, shutting the door behind her gently.

The jaguar returned his attention to the rest of the bakery. It was clean, warm and cozy, with plenty of chairs and tables. It reminded him of an old time soda shop, and he figured it was renovated from one. The floors were teal green and the walls a bright pink, like the cupcake on the sign outside. Before he could take in any more details, the head chef arrived with his meal.

“Thank you, so much,” the jaguar murmured, and handed the mouse a ten dollar bill.

The mouse’s eyes went wide. No one had tipped him in ages.

“Sir, would you like change?” he suggested. The jaguar smiled before he sank his teeth into the hot bread.

“No, go ahead, keep it.”

The mouse fled into the kitchen, wriggling in joy.

The jaguar sighed. The bread was just the right texture, crispy on the outside, soft on the inside. It melted into butter the moment it touched his tongue. He wiggled his tail in approval. He ate it slowly, drinking his jasmine tea and savoring the silence. He was surprised how quietly the mice worked, and thought it a nice touch. So often his workplace and home were interruptions waiting to happen—bright lights, yelling, papers in his face, noisy neighbors, and the train rattling by on the tracks. But here, in the warmth and quiet of the bakery, he felt…comfortable. He felt he could be himself again.

He finished his croissant, and the dregs of his tea. He sighed. He began to bundle himself up, preparing for the cold, stressful day ahead, masking his true self once more.

Suddenly, he felt a tiny tug on the corner of his overcoat. He ignored it at first, and then the tug was more insistent.

He looked down, locating the source of the tug.

A tiny mouse, very young and a soft gray, held out a big cupcake in her pink dainty paws.

“Mister, thank you for stopping by our bakery. We don’t get a lot of…of…”

Her mom, a slightly larger gray mouse standing behind her, whispered the word in her ear.

The little mouse continued, “…business and we really, really like you. So here! Enjoy!” She scurried off into the kitchen with her mom in tow, leaving the cupcake in his paw.

He stared at the cupcake, which was clearly crafted by the little mouse, with its multicolored, messy frosting and crumbly cake. Tears filled his eyes as he remembered being a cub, running along the streets he once called home to the local bakery, and then running back again to the villa before his parents woke up at dawn.

I’ve always been on the run…

He continued to stare at the cupcake. The bakers poked their muzzles past the kitchen, glancing curiously at him.

The jaguar stared out the window of the bakery glumly. He then took a swipe of the frosting and sucked it off his pawpad gingerly.

The little mouse wiggled her nose in excitement.

Why should I go on being miserable, when I have the choice to be happy, even for a moment?

“It’s funny,” he murmured, more to himself than the bakery. “Being here…reminds me it’s okay…to slow down once in a while and enjoy myself. You accept me…for me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the little mouse peeped. Her eyes grew wide as he gulped down half the cupcake all at once. She giggled, and scurried off into the kitchen to make more.

The jaguar decided spending a little longer at the bakery that day won’t be such a bad thing…because he felt that by accepting himself at last, and leaving room for fun, he really did belong in the big city after all.

[redyoshi49q]

Since Kobuk gave you your first word, I'll give you your first sentence.

Try "Trust is not a scalar.".  If that sentence doesn't make a lot of sense to you, I can elaborate on the meaning behind that choice of prompt (I deliberately omit it here so that you have the option and opportunity to interpret it however you wish).

(On a side note, you ninja'd me with your response to Kobuk.)

[Iara Warriorfeather]

Sorry about the ninja, RedYoshi!  I will work on a story around that sentence asap. 

[redyoshi49q]

No need to apologize!  I was just making note of it, that's all.

[xracecar]

I got a word for you! Just do it after the other guys sentence.

Umm...uhh... Adventure!

[Iara Warriorfeather]

It had been many years since she had heard from him. Still, she decided to make her way into the slot canyons alone that morning, to push herself in ways she’d never done before. She had to learn to trust herself again.

As a leopardess, she was more accustomed to her homely, forested den than the harsh desert that surrounded her. She heaved her pack a little higher on her shoulders and sighed, determined to make her way up to the top.

The sun spilled its light over the pale blue horizon. She sipped her water slowly. She knew in a few hours the heat of the day would sag her spirits…and that she had to get to the top of the canyon before it set in.

She began her ascent gradually, picking her way up the gently sloping sands. She loved the sandstone slot canyons, their gray hue shimmering in the light like a mirage. She felt like a fish darting through miniature sea arches.

Her thighs began to burn from the effort of climbing uphill. She drank more water.

She didn’t dare to look down. She knew it would make her vertigo spike. She had to overcome that fear, to trust her body, heart and mind.

The trail wound steadily upward, past larger and larger boulders. It suddenly began to narrow.

She paused at a rickety steel ladder. She took a deep breath. Her heart began to thunder in her chest.

Here we go.

She lowered the bottom half of the ladder. It hit the trail beneath her with a hideous clang, the sound of metal on stone echoing for miles.

She froze. The sound alone caused her heart to pound even faster. She drew her ears and whiskers back instinctively. Then, she drew in several deep breaths, shivering in fear.

You can do this. One paw in front of the other…you can do this.

She gripped the bottom rung, and heaved one leg up. Slowly but surely she moved upward, ensuring her footing was secure as she ascended each rung.

She saw the edge of the trail continue above her, and leaped for it, glad to be on solid ground again.

She smiled, her tail tip waving happily. I did it!

The leopardess kept climbing up, making her way up two more rickety ladders. Finally, she had come to a rather large gap in the trail.

Now what?

She took in the scents of the day—dry riverbeds, mesquite trees, and sage brush flanked the trail. She drank her water. A few warblers chattered in the bushes nearby. She noted the position of the sun—it was almost mid-day. She began to pant, releasing some of the heat from her body.

Which way do I go?

She examined the gap. It was several feet wide, with at least a ten foot drop to the bottom portion of the trail below. She shivered, not willing to hurt herself to enjoy her climb.

She looked up. The scraggly trees on the side of the trail led up to higher ground, and that much closer to her goal.

She sighed. Looks like the only way left is up.

She tested her weight on the trunk of the tree nearest the gap. It didn’t buckle or creak. She dug her claws into the bark, and scrambled up to the highest, thickest branch.

She reached out a paw on the edge of the branch nearest the trunk. It began to bend. She hesitated.

If I move quickly, I can get up to the trail again. It’s just above me.

She closed her pale green eyes and inhaled a shaky yet deep breath.

She gently tapped the branch. It didn’t sound like it would break under her weight. She slowly added more pressure.

Part of the branch suddenly snapped off, falling into the gap far below. The leopardess looked down.

Her eyes widened in terror. The drop was now twenty feet.

She looked away, closed her eyes. Her heart thudded even harder than before. She hugged the tree trunk tightly.

Oh no, oh no…I’m so scared…

Fear began to wrap her mind in a dense fog. She felt uneasy, scattered, and alone. The wind began to pick up, whistling through the slot canyons all around her.

Hey, came a gentle voice in her ear, a distant memory. We’re here for you. Don’t give up. You can do it. We know you can! It was her advisor, from years ago. His gentle encouragement, along with her classmates, coaxed her to jump a gap and land safely on the other side. She took a deep, cleansing breath. The fog lifted as she focused on his words of encouragement.

I can do this. I just have to leap up, my claws can help. I can do this.

She took another deep breath. She crouched and then launched herself into the air, off the branch…
…her paws gripped the edge of the trail above her, tugging on some roots for support. She pulled up, her chest heaving with the effort.

She scrambled up to the top of the trail. The wind whistled in her ears. She laid on her back, panting.

The sun was brilliant in the blue sky above. The clouds were wisps, the trees around her were waving their thin branches in the wind. She suddenly began to laugh.

I did it! I made it! I got through the slot canyon all by myself!

Finally, she could trust herself again. By staying positive and building her journey piece by piece into a whole picture, she was successful in not only her goal, but in trusting herself to achieve it.

And then, after regaining her composure, standing up and shifting her pack, she saw a bright yellow something fluttering in the breeze, caught in the branches of a nearby tree.

She advanced toward it, tilting her head to one side.

She unfurled the yellow paper. On it was written, in the form of a triangle, the following phrase:

Trust is not a scalar.

[Iara Warriorfeather]

xracecar, just an update--I am nearly done with Adventure, and will post either tonight or tomorrow! Merry Christmas all! 

[redyoshi49q]

I enjoyed your portrayal of the phrase; you did a good job with it.

The phrase I gave you was a derivative of "Trust is not a boolean.", which was (to my awareness) first used in a security related discussion sometime in 2006.  The point being made in that post was that trust is something that can't be appropriately modeled by a yes/no statement; if someone has a partial level of trust in a system, that trust cannot be appropriately described as either complete trust or as complete distrust.

From a Google search that I did shortly after making my earlier post, I saw that only two other uses of the phrase "Trust is not a scalar" on the public facing Internet (this thread will probably be added to that list once Google's bot crawls this page).  I intended that phrase to communicate that trust wasn't unidimensional.  For instance, it'd be possible to entirely trust Alice's honesty but not her intentions, entirely trust Bob's intentions but not his honesty, and partially trust both Carol's honesty and intentions.  In such a case, you wouldn't be justified in saying that you trust any of those three strictly more than either of the other two; therefore, you wouldn't be able to effectively model your trust in these individuals with a single number.

You took an entirely different (though it must be noted, equally valid) interpretation of the phrase; specifically, you communicated that trust isn't a quantity that's static in magnitude.  You showed the character's trust in herself as fluctuating with her circumstances and with her self confidence, and while one could model this trust with a number, that number would be prone to change in light of other factors, including time.  Part of what I like about these writing challenges as a prompter is being able to compare the writer's notion of the prompt with my own notion of it; the differences between the two can oftentimes be interesting.



I'll hold off for a bit on submitting another word or phrase in order to give another forum member a chance to submit one of their own (and take advantage of your soon to be empty queue!).  If you'd be OK with it, I'll enqueue myself again in a few days in either case so that you don't find yourself wanting for a queue for too long.

[Iara Warriorfeather]

I'm glad you liked the story, RedYoshi! I must admit, I am not as much of a mathematician as I am a writer who conveys reason in an emotional context.  Still, your perspectives are interesting as well.

When I post Adventure you are more than welcome to submit another prompt when you feel like it. 

[Old Rabbit]

Nice stories Ira.. Here is my word. "reserve"

[Iara Warriorfeather]

        The azure dragon tipped his brown felt hat toward each rider as they exited and meandered into the main paths of the theme park. “Have a good day now! Keep an eye on those snakes for me, will ya?” He adjusted his belt and khakis every once in a while, faking out some furs with his bullwhip and pistol. They laughed at his antics. He was glad he could make their adventuresome day more special and put smiles on their faces.

   That night, after he discarded his uniform for some comfy pj’s, he sat in front of his gaming computer, clicking away and chatting with his fellow gamers.

   “This has to be one of the best MMOs yet!” one friend, a red fox, chirruped.

   “No way, WoW is much more superior,” a tabby grunted, pushing his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose.

   “Hey, when are you going to invite your girlfriend over?” a wolf snarled in mock glee. The dragon ruffled his membranous clipped wings in mild irritation.

   “You guys know I still live with my folks…” his scales burned crimson at their edges at the admission.

   “We know,” the three gamers sighed as one over their headsets. They fell to sniggering laughter.

   The dragon sighed. He checked his clock—it was nearing midnight.

   “I’ve got an early shift tomorrow, got to go,” he muttered, crestfallen.

   “Aw man!” the fox whimpered.

   “That’s okay,” the wolf grinned, “it’s not like his girlfriend is in the next room or anything…”

   “Shut up man,” the tabby hissed. “Leave him alone, will ya?”

   The dragon shut off the headset, and shut down the computer. He sighed.

   Just once…just once I’d like to leave home, only to wind up on a thrilling adventure…I’d get to eat weird things and meet wonderful lady furs…if only…

   Several weeks went by. The dragon played the game less and less, as he was continually being ribbed by his friends. One day, he got an ad in the mail for a reduced airfare trip to Ecuador. At first, he was skeptical, but as time wore on, he realized that the trip would be a perfect opportunity for a new adventure—a real life one. Beautiful beaches, interesting wildlife…it would be a nice way to spend my summer vacation I’ve earned…

Finally, after a few months, the dragon saved enough to take his trip to Ecuador. He purchased the ticket using the ad as a discount online.

“Hey,” an IM window popped up. It was his ‘friend’ the wolf.

“A little busy,” the dragon quickly responded as he got the virtual receipt for the ticket. The wolf was clearly miffed.

“You’re always busy, dude,” the wolf replied. “We never see you in game anymore…”

“Well, I’ve got better things to do,” the dragon tersely typed.

“Better things than hanging out with friends? Wow. Some friend you are…”

The dragon printed his ticket, ignoring the wolf’s pleas for attention. The IM window finally quit chiming.

“Thank goodness,” he sighed, and shut off the computer for the night, packed for his trip.

The next morning, the dragon was all ready to board his flight, ticket in hand, when a shady looking canine took off with his carry-on luggage. Stunned, the dragon whirled, shouting, “HEY! Get back here!”

   He chased after the mutt, only to find himself lost in a crowd being shepherded aboard the wrong flight, toward Uruguay. Panicking, the dragon tried to see where the mutt had scampered off to. He noted the all-smiles stewardesses, their gator tails swooshing side to side under their skirts.

   “Um, hi!” he breathlessly muttered. “Ladies, listen—I think my luggage was stolen, and I’m on the wrong flight, and—“

   The captain began his speech in a sonorous voice, drowning out what the dragon was desperately trying to say. The stewardesses gently directed the anxious dragon to a seat.

   Several hours later, the plane arrived at an airport in Montevideo, Uruguay. The dragon awoke, groggy, dismayed, and terrified. He shuffled along with the other passengers off the plane, wandered through the giant airport. Without a dime in his pocket and no passport on hand, the dragon made his way to the counter on the way out of the airport.

   “I need your help!” he muttered, his voice cracking. He rustled his wings anxiously.

   “Yes?” a vixen in a security guard uniform sat cross-legged, filing her claws. She didn’t even look up to see the azure dragon’s face.

   “I lost my luggage, and I don’t know where I am…”

   “Bienvenidos a Montevideo, el capital de Uruguay!” the vixen stated in the most practiced, forced cheerful greeting the dragon had ever heard. “If you need additional help, please visit the embassy.” She waved a manicured paw out the airport, toward a building in the distance as if it were an oasis in a desert. “Take that street from the airport to your left. The embassy is right there.” The dragon was rooted to the spot.

   The vixen finally lifted her blue eyeshadow caked lids, her sparkling amber eyes meeting his. “You’re new here, aren’t you?” she winked. The dragon shuffled his feet, flapped his wings, nodded. He was deeply embarrassed, and had never felt so lost in his whole life.

   “Ay, pobrecito,” she tsked. “I’ll call you a taxi, hm? Be careful now,” she added as he shuffled toward the airport exit, “the city is a dangerous place!”

   The brightly colored taxi arrived some twenty minutes later, the driver looking harangued. The driver pounded on the accelerator and slammed on the brakes by turns as they made their way through traffic. The driver was cursing in some language the dragon barely knew, a mix of Italian and Spanish with Portuguese thrown in. The dragon slumped in his seat, begging to survive the short, free trip to the embassy.

   “No tip?!” the driver spat as the dragon launched out of the taxi the moment it pulled up to the embassy. The dragon looked at the angry armadillo apologetically.

   “Sorry, no cash…no dinero,” he stammered, and ran into the pristine government building. The armadillo spat on the sidewalk and took off.

   The cool tile floor and marble walls of the embassy did little to cheer the anxious dragon as he sought out the front desk. He hurriedly explained what happened.

   “Hi. Um, listen, I’ve lost my carry-on luggage and I’m in the wrong country. I was supposed to be en route to Ecuador but someone at the airport back home stole my stuff and now I’m here by mistake. I don’t have any money, I’m all alone. Please, help!”

The furs behind the counter looked at one another, mesmerized by the dragon’s rapid fire speech, unable to understand a word of it yet sensing the urgency in his voice. They warbled back and forth to one another in hushed tones, then one snapped her claws. A translator, an older vixen in a similar uniform to the one at the airport, arrived, looking annoyed. The dragon, unsure of their customs, bowed a little, trying to show respect. The translator adjusted her cat’s eye lenses and wriggled her nose. “Go ahead.”

   “Hi, ma’am. Look, my carry-on luggage was stolen—“

   She translated, “Hola, ustedes. Mi maleta robé—“

   “—so I don’t have my passport, my phone, or any money. I’ve also boarded the wrong plane. I was originally meant to go to Ecuador. Please, if you can offer any help!”

   “No tengo una pasaporte, un telefono cellular, y no tengo dinero. No tengo una targeta de embarque de Uruguay…tení una targeta de embarque de Ecuador. Por favor, ayudame!”

   The embassy furs nodded and gave him a lengthy questionnaire. The translator listened to their fluid speech, then said, “Okay. You can have a seat and fill out this paperwork. We will do our best to help. You can also call your home country to let others know what is going on.” She pointed to a single phone booth in the lobby.

   “Thank you! Thank you!” the dragon took the paperwork and filled it out furiously. He then rushed to the phone, hoping his friends would be able to help him out. He dialed the number quickly, waiting with bated breath as the phone thousands of miles away rang. Finally, one of his friends picked up.

   “’Sup?”

   “Listen, guys, I’m in a bit of a bind…you know how I won that trip to Ecuador? Well…my stuff got stolen and I boarded the wrong flight. Now I’m in Uruguay.”

   The fox who answered was taken aback. “No way.” The wolf and tabby rushed to the phone, eager to hear from their long-lost friend. Or so the dragon hoped.

   The tabby seemed elated by this news. “You can’t be serious, bro!” The wolf took the phone.

    “Why are you calling us? Shouldn’t you be calling your mommy and daddy?” Laughter ensued.

   The dragon snorted in frustration. “I’ll cut to the chase—I need three grand to get home.”

    “WHAT?” cried the fox, wolf and tabby together.

   “It’s ridiculous, I know, but I’m stuck here otherwise…at the embassy…”

    “Well, bro, looks like you got your adventure after all!” The trio laughed again at his plight and hung up, returning to their games. 

   “Ugh!” the dragon hung up, tilted his head toward the ceiling, tempted to let loose jets of flame.

   “Any luck?” the embassy furs struggled to say.

   “No,” the dragon muttered quietly. He retook his seat.

   Hours passed. The dragon laid back in the seat, head down and eyes on the ground. The sun was just starting to set. Tears filled his eyes. I’m such a loser…how could this have happened? Now I’m…

   “I’m lost! I’m lost!” wept a little bearded dragon, who ran into the embassy. Her scales were puffed and darkened with fear, tear stains down her scaly cheeks.

   “Hey little one, why so glum?” The dragon was glad to find another scalie who spoke his language, but sad she was so hurt.

   “My mum and dad left me,” she blubbered, lost in sadness. “I don’t know where they are (sniff) or where I am (sniff sniff) or ANYTHING!” Tears moistened her nostrils, and she shivered. The dragon got out of his chair and knelt down next to the tiny beardie, slowly opening his wings.

   “I’m sure they can help,” the dragon suggested, trying to lead her to the embassy desk.

   Suddenly, she pulled away, crying, “No! I need to find them myself!” The beardie ran out of the embassy, screeching for her missing parents.

   “Hey! Wait!” the dragon gave chase. He ran through the streets, past confused tourists and busy city dwellers. The beardie was tough to keep track of, but her tiny scales glinted in the fading sunlight as she weaved between larger furries and scalies.

   The dragon eventually found himself on a stretch of beautiful coastline, with turquoise water and clean white sand. The beardie hid in a cabana meant for beachgoers, gasping for breath and sobbing.  “Hey, there you are!” he cooed, sliding his wedge shaped azure head into the cabana. The beardie gasped in fright at first, then skittered to the back of the structure, burying herself in the hot sand.

   “Go away!” her tiny voice asserted, once she was safely buried in collapsing grains of sand.

   The dragon chuckled inwardly at her plight. Little did she know he felt like her most of the time. Somehow, being in a new place and helping her out rose his self confidence a peg.

   “It’s okay, I just want to help.” The dragon waited. He backed out of the cabana a little, to give the beardie some space.

   She poked her nose above the sand, gazed at the dragon for a long time. Her tiny voice warbled, “We’re not from here, we’re from Australia. Daddy is visiting on business, he’s always on business trips. This time, mum wanted us to go, too. So we’re making it a vacation…but I don’t like it here…the food is weird and the furries here talk funny.”

   The dragon smiled. “So you ran away?”

   “No!” the beardie began to rise from the sand, dusting herself off. “No, mum, dad and I were on this beach earlier…and…they went away. They said, ‘Stay right here, Gracie. Be a good girl, eh?’ like they always do, and then they left…and never came back…” She started to cry again, taking the edges of her skirt and dabbing her eyes.

   “Maybe they got lost, too?” the dragon suggested. The beardie sighed.

   “I guess they went back to the hotel.”

   “Well, maybe they are looking for you, Gracie,” he continued, looking up and down the beach. It was becoming deserted as the sun sank lower and lower into the horizon. A cold breeze blew off the ocean, making both scalies back away from it.

   The beardie looked up at the dragon curiously. “You know, you’re really nice. I like you. Maybe you can help me find them.” She took his big paw in hers and shook it firmly.

   “Nice to meet you, too!” he grunted. She giggled.

   He opened his wings a little, shielding them from the sand and wind. “Let’s go to the hotel, maybe they will have more answers for us.”

   “Okay!” she agreed. He led her up the sloping sands to a very large and ritzy hotel along the coast.

   They entered the large hotel, which was considerably warmer than the beach behind them. Extravagance was everywhere, from the marbled tile floors to the gold inlaid desks. The leather seats were polished and a large fountain gurgled near the entryway. Bellhops scuttled to and fro, their luggage carts filled with suitcases of all shapes and sizes.

   It was then that the dragon’s heart leaped. My carry-on!

   His carry-on trundled toward an open elevator, along with dozens of other suitcases. To his shock, the dragon recognized the shady looking mutt standing alongside the bellhop!

   “Hey! HEY!” he called out. But the little beardie tugged on his paw.

   “The entrance desk is this way, silly!”

   “But, my—“ the dragon sighed. The elevator doors closed and he swore the mutt winked at him as it ascended in a clear glass tube.

   “But what?” the beardie asked, paws on her slim hips. She squinted up at the anxious dragon. “Are you going to help me, or not?” she stamped her foot in impatience.

   “Oh,” he sighed. “I’m sorry…you see, I lost something too, on the way here…it’s a long story. Let’s try and find your folks, Gracie…”

   “Good!” she lifted her chin, flickered her tongue in approval. The dragon grinned, rolled his eyes. They walked up to the front desk, Gracie’s nose barely above the level of it.

   “Excuse me,” the dragon grunted. “This little lady is lost.”

   “What’s your name, hijita?” the staff member asked. Gracie puffed up in pride.

   “Gracie Shepherd.”

   “Hmm…let me check,” the staff member reassured the dragon and the beardie. “Ah, here we go. Room 905. Here’s a spare key for you,” she handed off the key to the beardie.

   “Muchas gracias,” she murmured in perfect Spanish. The dragon’s jaw dropped.

   “De nada, hijita!” the staff member waved them off. The dragon rushed after the beardie, stunned.

   “You know Spanish?!” he cried, aghast. “I thought—“

   “I told you, my daddy travels a lot on business. You learn a thing or two when you travel all the time.” The beardie puffed up again as she marched toward the elevator, the dragon in tow. “Come on. I’d like you to meet my folks! You’ve been a big help.”

   “It’s nothing, really…” the dragon gulped as they went up the nine flights to the room.

   “You deserve a proper thank you,” she insisted.

   The elevator doors chimed open. The mutt stood in front of them in the hallway, the dragon’s carry-on in his paws.

   “YOU!” the dragon hissed, flaring his wings open. “You stole my luggage at the airport!!”

   Gracie ran into the mutt’s arms, thrilled. A larger bearded dragon lady stood alongside the mutt. “Daddy! Mummy! This dragon found me and brought me to you!”

   “Good work, Gracie, darling,” the mutt patted Gracie’s head. The dragon stepped out of the elevator, bewildered.

   “But--! What?!” he spluttered, confused.

   “That travel agency ad you responded to is a ring of identity thieves,” the mutt growled softly. Gracie skittered with her mother into the room, overjoyed to be reunited. “I took your carry-on because it has the last piece of evidence I needed for the scam.” The German Shepherd-dingo mix tossed the bag to the dragon, who caught it with a surprised huff. “Thanks, mate.”

   “So…so my ticket to Ecuador…”

   “Faked,” the mutt nodded. “You would’ve been in Ecuadorian jail if I didn’t pull that stunt. I’m glad you followed me. That takes guts. And you found Gracie, who led you here…again, part of the plan. Your name badge from the theme park you work in is not exactly a luggage tag…I figured you’d respond to kids better than adults…and well. Here we are.”

   The dragon blushed. “Wow…how can I ever repay you?”

   “Here,” the mutt gave him a return flight ticket. “After all you’ve been through, and after you’ve been here another week, I’m sure that’s more than enough adventure for many years to come!”

   The two new friends hugged. “Thank you…” the dragon sighed.

   “Take care, kid,” the mutt winked as he went back to his room. The dragon descended, gazing in awe at his returned carry-on and ticket. He was thrilled he would finally have the adventure he’d been craving at last!

Spanish translations:
Bienvenidos a Montevideo, el capital de Uruguay-Welcome to Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay!
Ay, pobrecito-Oh, you poor thing (-ito can also be translated literally as little thing, so pobrecito means poor little thing)
no dinero-No cash
Hola, ustedes. Mi maleta robé-Hi sirs/madams. My suitcase was stolen.
No tengo una pasaporte, un telefono cellular, y no tengo dinero. No tengo una targeta de embarque de Uruguay…tení una targeta de embarque de Ecuador. Por favor, ayudame-I don't have a passport, cellphone nor cash. I don't have a boarding pass for Uruguay...I had a boarding pass for Ecuador. Please, help me!
hijita-literally translates to 'little girl/daughter.' However, it can also be applied in the same way as 'dear' or 'honey.'
Muchas gracias-Thank you very much
De nada-literally translates as 'it's nothing.' Typically translates as 'you're welcome.' In some countries, like Argentina or Uruguay, 'de nada' has a much deeper connotation, and is a grateful response to sincere thanks.

Thanks for your patience! I will get to work on reserve asap. 

[Old Rabbit]

Nice short story Iara, a bit of mystery, and adventure.
I enjoyed it.. No hurry on my word.

[Iara Warriorfeather]

Hi OldRabbit-working on Reserve, should be done with it in a few days.   

[redyoshi49q]

After a little bit of thinking on the subject, I think I have another word to enqueue.

Give "interoperability" a shot.

[Iara Warriorfeather]

Here is Reserve.

The Channel Islands vixen pulled her heavy suitcase into the hotel lobby, exhausted. She was glad she could finally afford to attend the conference, as she had missed out on previous years. She sighed as she approached the front desk, hastily sweeping her hair out of her large, almond shaped eyes.

“Hi,” she smiled. “I’ve made reservations…my name is Catalina D. Vixen…”

“Actually,” the receptionist countered while finding her name in the system, “your reservations have already been paid for. Your room is ready.” The receptionist handed her the hotel key card.

Catalina was taken aback. “Really? There must be some mistake...”

“No, it says right here, paid in full.” Catalina took the key card, smiled nervously.

“Um, wow…thank you,” she muttered, finding her way to the elevator.

That’s strange, Catalina shrugged off the thought. She found her room, a small and clean suite with a large cozy queen bed in the center. Well, whoever took care of my room was very thoughtful… She wondered if her mate, an Arctic wolf named Kobalt, had already paid for it. She sighed, missing him even more than usual. Kobalt was also away on business, on tour again with his bus company.

“I want you to have fun, honey,” Kobalt told Catalina over the phone the night before she left for the airport. “I can’t wait to hear all about your adventures this time!”

Catalina stowed the thought away as she did the same with her luggage. She gathered up her bright pink and purple leopard print day pack then wandered out of the hotel, eager to take in the new city.

She found the small, tightly packed and colorful apartments charming as she ascended one of the many paved hills a short distance from her hotel. She was glad she wasn’t at the host hotel—it was a waste of money she absolutely could not afford. She enjoyed making the most of conferences, walking around and playing tourist, taking pictures and trying out new languages.

She stopped into a tiny café. A few presenters at the convention were milling about, grabbing coffee and breakfast. She said hello to a few she recognized and took a seat at the counter.

As she was about to order, she noticed a cup of tea by her, with a napkin under it. The napkin had her name scrawled on it in bleeding black ink.
She looked around. The barista nodded when she took the tea. “Excuse me…perdoneme…quien dar este te a mi?” Catalina queried. The barista tilted her head in the direction of the end of the counter, where a handsome Friesian stallion sat in a suit and tie, one arm on the counter near his tea, the other on his hip, his gaze soft and smile charming.

“Giorgio?” Catalina gasped, blushing. The stallion stood, wandered over to her.

“Hola,” the stallion nickered, planting kisses on each of her cheeks, the heat from them tickling his muzzle. “It’s been a long time since we saw each other, hm?”

“I—I didn’t know you’d be at the conference!” Catalina squeaked, swishing her tail and drinking the tea. It was a robust chai, with honey and sweet milk…the kind she ordered often at home.

“I didn’t know you’d be here, either,” Giorgio confessed, sitting next to her. He interrupted their conversation momentarily by telling the barista, “Un pastel por favor, gracias.” He then faced her again, his eyes alight. “But I had a feeling you would be…you can’t stay away from things you love.” He winked, tossed his mane slightly.

“Right…” Catalina sighed, her nose buried in her tea, her ears burning from being flushed for so long.

“Listen, Catalina. I know we met on…less than ideal terms,” Giorgio continued. Catalina’s tail swished in embarrassment; her previous dalliances with the stallion were best kept private. “But like I said before, I’m a scientist in your field, too...I’m presenting tonight. Would you like to come? It’d mean a lot to me if you were there…”

“Well….I…”

The barista delivered the Danish. Giorgio offered some to Catalina, but she declined. “…I realize how awkward this is, but…I’d love to get to know you more. Maybe…maybe during or after the conference…I can show you around sometime. I know this city better than anyone here…” At that another stallion in the back of the cafe, a large roan, coughed in disapproval, which Giorgio shrugged off. “…I know this city well,” he corrected, rolling his eyes, “and I’d love to see the sights with you.”

Catalina finished her tea. She set down the cup. She squeezed Giorgio’s hooved paws gently.

“Giorgio, that is very thoughtful of you,” she smiled. “But I was planning on being at this conference on my own.”

“I’ve reserved a spot at the presentation tonight, just for you.” Giorgio’s heart swelled and ached. I’ve always reserved a spot for you, ever since we first met…we didn’t meet the way we should have, but we have a chance to make things right!

“I will attend,” Catalina agreed. “Thank you for the tea, but please, Giorgio—no more favors, okay? I’d like to explore the conference on my own, without pressure, for once.”

“Understood,” Giorgio flared his nostrils. He nodded, then finished his Danish, chewing thoughtfully. “I’ll see you tonight, then?”

“Of course.” Catalina stood, ready to leave. Giorgio practically leaped off his stool, elbowing an iguana next to him.

“Hey!” the lizard hissed, irritated.

“Sorry,” Giorgio apologized, then looked to Catalina. “Hey, um—can I walk with you to the hotel?”

“Sure!” Catalina shrugged. Giorgio held open the café door for her.

“Ladies first,” he grunted, taking in her scent as she walked past. He trotted after her, amazed at how fast she could walk. “Slow down!” he laughed. “There’s no rush!”

“But the first talk is at 8!” Catalina whimpered. Giorgio caught up to her, his tail fluttering in the breeze as his hooves clipped along on the pavement.

“Bah, no one goes to those talks, too early,” Giorgio waved it off. “Besides, you’ll be there in plenty of time for the opening talks at 9.”

Catalina wrinkled her nose. “If you say so.” She began to pant as they walked up and down several small hills toward the host hotel for the conference. Giorgio’s gaze kept wandering to her, his heart pounding in his chest from more than just the exertion of moving up and downhill.

“You look nice today, by the way,” he complimented.

“Thank you,” she murmured, trying to keep track of the winding pavement. It finally began to even out as they approached the hotel.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye for now,” he held open the doors to the hotel for her. Catalina smiled as she passed through them.

“Thanks for walking with me,” she added as they parted ways. She checked into the conference, donning her badge and hurrying to find the first series of talks.

The rest of the day was busy for Catalina. She rushed from ballroom to ballroom, listening to interesting new finds and taking notes along the way. Giorgio stayed busy too, reciting his talk over and over, pacing the halls when he could, catching snippets of conversation and gossip.

Giorgio glanced at his watch. It’s almost 6…almost time…

The ballroom where Giorgio’s talk was scheduled began to fill. He scanned the audience, searching for her.

Just as the clock struck 6, Catalina rushed in with some last minute stragglers. The older scientists huffed disapprovingly while the younger set fell to tweeting and setting up their iPhones for video recording.

Catalina sat with her notepad in paw, her doodles and notes from earlier swept away to a new page as she prepared to take more notes. Giorgio liked that about Catalina—she was so different in the way she paid attention in conferences, how she sat apart from the others, how their eyes met from across the room from time to time as she drew or wrote. He wondered if she wrote or drew about him, but stifled the thought as he launched into his carefully prepared talk.

Fifteen minutes flew by. During the questions session, Giorgio was pressured by the roan stallion Catalina saw at the café to talk about specific aspects of his research. She sensed the two were either rivals or colleagues, for the way they acknowledged one another seemed brusque. Catalina applauded along with the others after the talk ended.

Giorgio waited as the crowd dispersed. He found Catalina putting her notes into her day pack, and trotted over to her.

“Hey,” he grinned, sweat coating his hide. Talks always made him nervous. “Thanks for showing up!”

“Oh! Hey Giorgio!” Catalina shouldered her day pack. “You’re welcome. It was a great talk!”

“So…uh…do…do you have any plans tonight? Aside from going back to your hotel…”

Catalina blushed. “Are…are you asking me out?”

“Um…uh…well, not out, out…just…to get a few drinks, yes.” He scratched his mane sheepishly.

“Well…I do have an early start tomorrow…there’s a lot to see and do before the convention is over…”

“I understand,” Giorgio muttered, crestfallen. He was about to walk away when Catalina stopped him:

“…but I would love to spend time with you. I enjoyed your talk and I’d like to share my notes with you, to make sure I got everything I needed.”

Giorgio whirled around, grinning ear to ear. “I’ll go ahead and reserve us a spot at the bar,” he whinnied. Catalina smiled as he galloped to the hotel bar, shaking her head.

This will be one talk I am glad I went to, she thought.

~Spanish Translations~
perdoneme…quien dar este te a mi-Pardon me....who gave this tea to me? (the word te should have an accent, to distinguish it from the command form of you in Spanish  )

“Un pastel por favor, gracias.-A pastry please, thanks.

Hola-Hello

[Iara Warriorfeather]

After a little bit of thinking on the subject, I think I have another word to enqueue.

Give "interoperability" a shot.

I will get started now that I'm done with Reserve! Thank you all for your patience and kind words, much appreciated! 

[Old Rabbit]

Thanks Iara.. You did a nice story about "reserve"  A good read keeping my
interest. I found the descriptions of the characters and background well done
without over doing it.

If you run out of words and want another. How about "interglacial" just for fun. 

Old Rabbit

[Iara Warriorfeather]

Thanks Iara.. You did a nice story about "reserve"  A good read keeping my
interest. I found the descriptions of the characters and background well done
without over doing it.

If you run out of words and want another. How about "interglacial" just for fun. 

Old Rabbit

Glad you enjoyed it! Interglacial will come after interoperability, thanks! 

[Iara Warriorfeather]

I've been delayed--I will post Interoperability soon, followed by Interglacial! 

[Old Rabbit]

No problem.  Take your time.

[Iara Warriorfeather]

Interoperability

It was a dark and stormy night when she received the email.

The only light in her apartment was the eerie glow of the laptop screen. She had just finished another short story for an upcoming anthology when her inbox pinged.

My sources say you are an excellent writer. My team and I need you and your agents to ghostwrite for us. We need a story about our organization and its founder. Should you be willing to do this, we will compensate you handsomely. Name your price and you will have it. Our founder has that much faith in you. Please write us back at your earliest convenience.

The leopardess fluffed her wings in excitement and anxiousness. A real gig at last!

In an instant, she wrote back, her pawpads flying across the keyboard as they would across the damp soil in pursuit of prey.

Thank you for the opportunity. I'd like some additional information about your organization before proceeding, and my agents and I will reach a decision next week.

She smiled, her fangs glinting in the glow of her computer. Her inbox pinged again.

We appreciate the opportunity for interoperability as well. Our organization is a charity fundraiser operation founded by one of the best known classical musicians in the world. Our mission is to keep classical music in schools and to support creativity in public education. You will have the opportunity to to interview our founder, as well as attend one of his concerts free of charge. Let us know if these terms work well for you.

The leopardess’ tail tip twitched and she sat up straight in her computer chair, stunned. One of her lost childhood dreams was to become a violinist, and her heart leaped as she read the reply. Now’s my chance to pick up the pieces! And meet a famous musician, to boot!

The leopardess typed back,

These terms are excellent. Please send the assignment right away so I can get to work!

***
Over the next few weeks, the winged leopardess researched the organization and its founder thoroughly, spending most days and nights curled up in her computer chair, downing inconceivable amounts of chai tea, and typing until carpal tunnel seized her paws, forcing her to stop. She listened to his music over and over again, his tenor resounding in her ears and filling her mind with dreams of far off places.

She sent the final draft of the report to her editors, and then to the organization. She sighed, proud to have completed the work.

The sun set, its crimson staining the darkening blue sky. The leopardess had just finished yet another run to the local coffeeshop. Before returning to her apartment, she found a single red rose on her doormat.

A rolled note was tied around the stem. Hi, it read on the outside. The leopardess blushed. She went inside, then unrolled and read the note.

My ghostwriter and team,

Your efforts have helped me improve my charity work tremendously. Your eloquent phrasing has been used on my main website, and draws more donors every day. Thank you.

As a personal thank you, I’d love to have you as VIPs at the first concert in my next tour, in New York. You are more than welcome to join me backstage.

Musically yours,
Winslow A. Caballo

The leopardess fluttered her wings and smiled a big toothy grin. She couldn’t wait!

[Old Rabbit]

I enjoyed the story, a good read as before.

I like how you show females in your stories as intelligent creative individuals. Not just
something to look at, and use, but still showing their famine side as well.

Keep up the nice work.

[Iara Warriorfeather]

Thank you much, Old Rabbit! Interglacial is on the way!