Albanugia

The wind swirls eddies of loose, white sand from the deep periwinkle sky. It dies down just long enough for the sands to fall in a glistening powder in the mid-morning sun. The freshly-fallen sands and newly-stirred winds eradicate any trace of life in the salt flats of Albanugia. When the wind starts up again, however, it reveals the final resting place of some long-dead cattle-creature of some sort. The gentle cycle of start-again, stop-again winds is interrupted only once, and that is by a frustrated howl of something definitely not human in any way.

Far below Albanugia's salt flats is a cavern system of splendid marble and granite. In the middle of the cavern is a man dressed in simple clothes of simpler colors. He is tanned and kindly-faced, with dark hair in a mess above his head, and sharp, untrusting, dark brown eyes. He jumps when the howl occurs again, but then he glares into the darkness.

"What are you whining about?" he asks, just a little snippity.

*I keep stubbing my toes and bwamping my head,* a pained voice replies.

The man blinks for lack of something better to say. He grabs a large, thick stick from a pile nearby and waves his hand over it. Clear, orange, smokeless fire alights on the stick.

*That's wonderful, Samir!* the voice remarks, childish glee entering it. The man, Samir, brings the torch near the voice's source. He holds it high, illuminating the face of a grey-furred creature that seems to be a dragon with various parts of a rabbit attached.

"A simple, useful, practical parlor trick, Chaucer," Samir replies, half-smiling. He is very intent on getting back to work.

*But it lets me see where I am so that I do not stub my toes or bwamp my head!*

"If you weren't a terrestrial budrage, you could do it yourself. Help me, won't you? We've got a lot of things to prepare."

Chaucer nods and watches Samir affix the torch to one of the cavern walls. *And soon my brethren will be prosperous once more.* The dragon grins, his elongated bunny-ish ears twitching with glee.