Cleaning out the stables is a disgusting job.
At least, it normally is.
But if the creatures contained in the stalls happen to be minor dragons of paradise, then the job can get strange.
Moving into the first stall, I ducked as something bright orange streaked through the air right where my head had been. The air was hazy with smoke of all colors. Orange, red, blue, even bubblegum pink. The smoke coiled into elaborate colors as the tiny dragons shot throughout the room.
Only the females were still, gazing upward from their perches beside the fountain with jeweled eyes narrowed.
Keeping low, I moved through the stall. Mating season was always an interesting time here. If I wasn't careful, I'd probably end up as lunch.
Setting down my bucket, I began scooping tiny jewels into it. That was the thing about mating season with the particular breed of minor dragon. The males expelled colorful smoke that matched their scales. As the layers of smoke mingled and were mixed with dust blown up from the ground, the smoke solidified into jewels.
The minor dragons didn't care if some human came and collected some, as long as I didn't interrupt their courtship rituals.
And so the males raced about spewing smoke, and the farm got a bonus every four to seven months.
Over all, a much better gig than mucking out a horse's stall.
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