Rule of 3 Blogfest, Part 2: Brigit the Brash
Come with me as we visit the town of Renaissance again. This is Part 2. If you haven't read Part 1, please do so first. Also, you can find the other writers participating in this challenge here.
Brigit The Brash
Brigit didn’t spend two hundred and forty-seven years as a dragon keeper without gaining a few survival skills. By mid-morning, she stumbled out of the maze of the Kastanes mine, blinking at the sun. The horizon gave no hints to the dragon’s wherabouts. Sunlight glittered off of the rooftops of Renaissance in the distance.
Brigit slapped at the dirt clinging to her clothes. “Another skirt ruined thanks to that no-good lizard.”
Her gaze returned to the town. Raker said he smelled the One. To town, then. Hopefully, she wasn’t too late to save his scaley, purple hide.
She hiked to her truck’s hiding place and dragged a duffel bag from the cab. The water bottles provided luke-warm refreshment, but she didn’t care and stripped down, pouring water over her sweaty body. A leather, wide-brimmed hat concealed her wild, red hair. She donned jeans and a loose-flowing shirt, and then the dragon keeper climbed into the truck’s cab.
“Maybe the Sons of George won’t be looking for Brigit the Brash, yet.”
The engine roared.
A few miles down the Kris Highway, which really was more of a semi-paved dirt road, Brigit passed a young Asian girl walking. Petite with long dark hair, she looked no more than twelve and offered a friendly wave as Brigit drove by.
Brigit eased off the gas and studied the girl in the rearview mirror. She wore jeans and a red T-shirt. A pair of sandals dangled from her fingertips. “What’s a child doing out here alone?”
Brigit backed up. “Need a lift?”
A bright smile returned thanks, and the girl hopped into the cab.
“Where ya headed?”
“To town.” The girl’s rich, alto voice flowed smooth as honey.
Brigit eased back on the road. “It’s not my business, but what are you doing way out here alone?”
The girl shrugged. “The kids from town took me to Heriot’s Pass.”
“And?” Brigit re-evaluated the girl’s age. Heriot’s Pass was teen territory.
“They left me. Some new kid ritual.” The girl rolled down the window, her black hair flying in the breeze.
“Kind of young for that group, aren’t ya?”
The girl dimpled. “I’m sixteen, just small for my age.”
Brigit pondered this fact for a moment, but her thoughts returned to Raker. Of all places to return, but his dragon sense would find the One, no matter how far away. She considered the women of Renaissance—a blond virgin would be hard to find in today’s loose world.
“I’m Jade.” The girl interrupted Brigit’s thoughts. “My Uncle Albert will have a fit if I don’t know who gave me a ride.”
Brigit coughed. “Uncle Albert? As in Albert George?”
“You know him?” Jade wrinkled her nose.
What fate led the niece of the Sons of George leader to her on the day Raker sensed the One?
“But you’re—” Brigit glanced at the girl.
“Not a big, strapping Viking?” Jade laughed. “I’m adopted. From China.”
“So, Jade George?”
“No! That would be awful. Jade Marshall. My mom’s a George.”
The truck rattled into town. “Just drop me off at the dragon fountain,” Jade said shaking her head in amusement. “This town and their stories. They say my great-great-great granddaddy killed the last dragon.”
“I’d heard,” Jade said, studying the monstrous image of the Viking, a pitch fork shoved into Raker’s gaping maw.
Brigit gripped the wheel tighter when Albert George stepped out of his gas station and watched Jade approach, then studied the truck, his hand shading his eyes. On the corner behind him, Brigit spotted Raker, frozen in motion, hungry eyes tracking Jade.
Word Count: 600
Word Count Last Week (because I didn't tell you): 500
Prompt: One of the characters is revealed to not be who he or she is AND A relationship becomes complicated.