“We are the old women “Who walk on the beach “We braid the shells and seaweed “In our white hair.” “Damn,” I said. “Do you forfeit?” The dragon leaned forward eagerly. Its talons tensed as if already imagining raking through treasure. “Not so fast!” I held up a hand and tried to ignore the warmth of the dragon’s breath ruffling my hair. Unless that was just the wind off the volcano. What walks on a beach…? Crabs. Birds. “Waves!”
