The horde of dragons could barely contain their laughter.
They watched one of the fledglings stomp around their underground lair, wings flapping, plumes of black smoke trailing from his little snout.
He had wanted to prove himself, prove that he should be taken seriously. But all those hopes went fluttering out the window the moment he dropped his bounty before the group.
What looked to be a knight in shining armor was anything but. It was revealed – slowly, painstakingly – that there was no human inside, only clumps of dried straw.
A scarecrow in shining armor.
Better luck next time, kid.
The Weekday One Hundred 