The Laugh That Lit Lanterns — At the high cliff pasture, Quillan cupped both metal gloves around his visor and boomed, “HOO-RAH!” The sound bounced off snowy peaks, rolled down the pine woods, and wiggled along the river like a tin pan in a tumble. Read the full story →
At the high cliff pasture, Quillan cupped both metal gloves around his visor and boomed, “HOO-RAH!” The sound bounced off snowy peaks, rolled down the pine woods, and wiggled along the river like a tin pan in a tumble. He had set himself a challenge: make an echo so grand that every goat in the valley would answer. His sword clinked, his cape snapped in the cold wind, and his shield shone with a lion that looked as if it wanted to roar too.
A deep chuckle rumbled from the cliff above him. Then came a puff of warm smoke smelling faintly of toasted cinnamon. Vargo the dragon leaned from his stone ledge, showed every pointy tooth in a grin, and breathed a neat curl of fire into the air. It did not scorch a twig. Instead, far below, one little lantern blinked on in the village square.
Quillan blinked. “You’re not roaring back?”
“Timing,” said Vargo. “Your silly shout tells me when the lantern master is ready.”
So Quillan made his echo bigger, wobblier, and more ridiculous. Vargo answered with golden fire, and the village bloomed light by light until the river carried a thousand sparkles. If you spot the curling flame over the valley, imagine the next HOO-RAH bouncing off the snowy peaks.
