A pocketful of freedom

The dragon was old and weary. My brothers bought our father's approval with her gems. “Let me try,” I begged. Seven times I asked; the eighth time, he agreed. Leaving home, though, was the dragon’s idea. A girl can live years on a ruby or two, after all. Featured image by Peter Lomas from Pixabay

Exodus

We had come so close. We rationed proteins, we doled out water in scant mouthfuls. If we were careful, there would be just enough. Then we ran out of fuel. Outside, a blue-green world rotates tantalizingly out of reach. I lick my dry lips and send another mayday.