Philomel's room in Marta's house was not a room proper--it was a converted study, covered in papers and art supplies, the bed a cot tucked against the wall. It was a rather nice cot, as such things went, and she was well used to it by now, but it was a narrow berth when there was just one person in it ( Read more... )

Much to Philomel's embarrassment, the first time Dr. Connors had been brought to see her, the promised dragons had been...sorely lacking. Still, she'd introduced him to Philip, Marta, and Baodelio, and though the beasts themselves had been absent, there were still enough notes, photographs, recordings, and illustrations to keep them well occupied ( Read more... )

It was Friday, and today Philomel would get to fly. She was, understandably, excited about the prospect. She'd managed to convince Philip and the others that she needed the day to work on her art, which had given her a chance to get away for a while, with no questions asked. (Of course, she'd had to bring some of her supplies, for verisimilitude ( Read more... )

Philomel puttered nervously around the base, tidying up and setting things to rights. Philip was away, as he often was during the daylight hours; today he was allowing himself the luxury of spending the entire day watching the dragons, and she didn't expect to see him back until it was dark ( Read more... )