Nonatta and the Dragon

Once there lived a young porchsweeper named Nonatta. Nonatta was very plain. Sister to the shadows, she did not stand out in any venue, and used this to her advantage. You see, Nonatta desired to surround herself with the beauty with which she was not blessed. Using the shadows to her advantage, Nonatta became a profitable pick-pocket, though she only stole that which sparkled or was bejeweled. The people of her village came to be suspicious of shadows. The wealthy would walk in the center of the streets and at night their pages carried torches to keep away the dark. Nonatta was so good at remaining unnoticed that the people of her own village did not even realize that within the quiet porchsweep lay fingers of mist and the desire of dragons.   One day, word spread through the village that the entourage of a distant prince would be traveling through the village, on its way to pay bride-gift to a nearby princess before the couple's impending nuptials. When news reached the ears of our porchsweep the dragon within her began to rumble, excitement reverberating within her small frame. A bridegift meant immeasurable treasure, and a distant prince without the knowledge of the workings of the shadows spelled ease. Nonatta stole off to the shadows and began to craft her plan.   Fingers of mist, though crafty, do not bear weight against the steel of sword, nor the strength of oak and iron. A mere pickpocket, our porchsweep's only hope was to lay eyes on the treasure. Once even the gleam of a rube alighted in her eye, Nonatta knew she would not walk away empty handed.   On the first day, Nonatta gained all of the information she could about the traveling prince. Rumored to be young and boastful, and heavily in love. Perhaps, feeling would cloud judgement. Who could resist flaunting the enormanity of their love personified in gold? The prince, of course, would have guards, less clouded with emotion...By leave of the first day, the dragon within Nonatta purred happily.   On the second day, Nonatta worked from the shadows in a different capacity. Spelling whispers to too close ears that the prince was a lover of rich festivals, and quite generous when he imbibed. Perhaps, the day of the prince's arrival would be the perfect day to coincidentally celebrate the spring harvest...a mere 3 weeks early. By leave of the second day, the dragon within Nonatta began to pace with excitement.   On the third day, Nonatta deviated from her schedule to sweep the porch of the town mayor. The man was known to be enamoured with three things, his wife, a wager, and a hearty drink, similar to the dear distant prince. By this time, news had spread to the mayor of the town's desire to host the harvest festival early. The mayor, privy to the succulent spring wines, was not opposed. In early afternoon, the mayor's wife was returning home from the dress maker's. She, too, had heard the talk of the town. Unlike her husband, the mayor's wife was only enamoured with one thing, herself. As the beautifully vain woman entered the gate and walked the path to the front door Nonatta remarked to the gardener that the princess of the land was said to be so beautiful, that the prince had selected only the finest jewels for her bridegift, but he would not allow anyone to see the gift. Hearing this, the mayor's wife slowed. Nonatta continued, nodding to the woman, that perhaps the princess was not as beautiful as tales had told, and the bride gift a squandry compared to the gift the mayor's wife had received. The mayor's wife became feline as her eyes narrowed, a triumphant smirk turning her lips as she replied with a single word, "Perhaps". The dragon inside Nonatta roared and cackled with glee.   The prince arrived 2 days later amidst the grandest festival this greedy village had thrown in decades, casting away their finest toward the prince in the hopes of tasting his generosity. The mayor invited the prince to celebrate within the security of his home. The town spent the afternoon and early evening in revelry. As shadows waned the finest wines were brought around, and the dragon stirred. The drawls of the tales of man lengthened with the shadows, and Nonatta made her way amongst them to the home of the mayor. By this time, the mayor was just finishing his proud story of the riches he bequeathed upon his beautiful fiance, a bridegift unrivaled as is his love for his wife. Some would say, the mayor loves his wife more than any man has ever been known. The prince, boastful and drunk, countered this, for his bride gift was surely reflective that his love for the princess outshined that of the mayors. The shadows, once warm with evening sun, began to cool and deepen into night. The misty shroud of our porchsweep was thick as fog, her eyes sparkling and glowing as she watched the revelers in the garden. The boasting continued, back and forth, forth and back, until finally the mayor's wife spoke up. Perhaps...the prince could prove his love for his princess, by allowing the small party to look upon the gift.   The prince boastfully agreed, drawing out a small chest from beneath his seat. From around his neck he produced a key. A faint click, a small dazzle from within, Nonatta had dissipated from her perch. The moment was now, the dragon aflight. Quick, leaving drops of dew in her wake, she had run up to the party, placed a small hand within the chest, and wrapped her fingers tightly around a cool, hard stone. The roar of the dragon no longer reverberated, but escaped the lips of Nonatta. Suddenly, a blinding light, a shine so pure she had seen nothing of it, a wonder. All to be replaced by blackness, blackness, and the searing red hot pain to her eyes. Nonatta screeched and writhed, but did not drop the stone. The blackness of her sight enveloped her mind as she slipped into unconsciousness admist the screams of the guests.   When Nonatta awoke, the blackness remained. It seems the our porchsweep had not paid enough attention to the guards. The guards who had mingled with the villagers during the day, learning of the shadows in which riches evaporated into mist. Guards who were not blinded by love or drink, and who had learned of the power of the torch. Surprise had swept the party when the guards had plunged their torch into the vale of mist, mist that evaporated to reveal a young woman. The torch had scorched her eyes. For weeks Nonatta recovered physically from the ordeal, but the dragon within her continued to search for the stone, never having had the chance to lay eyes upon it. Nonatta wandered the village enraptured by the memory of that dazzling pure white light that blinded her, the purest treasure she had ever laid eyes on.