Dragon Qiver


	CHUTTERBUG Chapter 1 Narmly Woods at northern side of the towering crags of Faraway Peaks is a vast windswept plain that reaches to the frozen Mookisnows. Known simply as the Tunder, only scattered patches of muddlemoss and butterscrub grow there, and miles upon miles of green sourgrass. It seems unlikely the Tunder would be a place to call home. Yet, all it takes is a lot of close looking to know. Somewhere beneath an old sourgrass plant is a community so tiny it fits on a fingertip and still has room to grow. It’s just like any other town in Tossledowns. There are streets and schools, a mayor and a doctor to keep them all healthy; a skilled carpenter and a grocer, an artist, even, and a factory where most everyone else works. It’s home to a colony of chutterbugs and life in Mynoot is good, just much, much smaller. Because of Mynoot’s unique size, it’s hard for chutterbugs to envision what might exist outside their tiny community. Places like Perchmire Swamp, Scatterocks or the haggard canyons of Waterlorn where giants once roamed are a long way off, and because a long way off doesn’t amount to much when so teensy small, how could they possibly know of rainbow-colored wheat fields that grow on the rolling hills of Wenterwill? How could they know about red-faced howlergoons that haunt Bloodbridget where it spans the wild Reach River, the sparkling mystery of farriflies or the vast Outer Plains? What about waterwarts, lorks and panterleens, muskerrats, hatterhares or how otterwills swim the mighty Waterlove just downriver from Faller Cliffs? The colony is so tiny, chutterbugs are barely there. That alone is reason why they know so little about Tossledowns. But, size isn’t all that keeps them in the dark. It’s also an undying devotion to the harvest. As any chutterbug will explain, there’s nothing more important. Harvest is what they do morning, noon, and night, what they talk about, laugh about, what they eat and what fills their dreams at night. It’s what makes them chutterbugs. So, when one of their own began to think of things that had little to do with the harvest, well, older chutterbugs weren’t very pleased. Who cares what makes wind blow and rain fall? What does it matter why the sun rises and sets as long as it helps the sourgrass grow? And how silly to wonder if there was anything to do besides the harvest! “Foolish thoughts,” they cried when hearing such notions. “A waste of time for young minds!” It was perfectly clear to hardworking chutterbugs that the youngster’s brain was jumbled up good. “Out of chutterbug kilter,” it was often said about his flights of fancy. His family suggested he keep his thoughts to his self. Yet, try as he did to dismiss ideas that just pop into a young chutterhead’s mind, he couldn’t stop wondering if what he imagined was as silly as everyone said. So when no one was looking, he took a friend on an adventure inspired by a most daring notion. It had to do with sourgrass, but became much more. *

CHUTTERBUG

Chapter 1

Narmly Woods at northern side of the towering crags of Faraway Peaks is a vast windswept plain that reaches to the frozen Mookisnows. Known simply as the Tunder, only scattered patches of muddlemoss and butterscrub grow there, and miles upon miles of green sourgrass.

It seems unlikely the Tunder would be a place to call home. Yet, all it takes is a lot of close looking to know.

Somewhere beneath an old sourgrass plant is a community so tiny it fits on a fingertip and still has room to grow. It’s just like any other town in Tossledowns. There are streets and schools, a mayor and a doctor to keep them all healthy; a skilled carpenter and a grocer, an artist, even, and a factory where most everyone else works.

It’s home to a colony of chutterbugs and life in Mynoot is good, just much, much smaller.

Because of Mynoot’s unique size, it’s hard for chutterbugs to envision what might exist outside their tiny community. Places like Perchmire Swamp, Scatterocks or the haggard canyons of Waterlorn where giants once roamed are a long way off, and because a long way off doesn’t amount to much when so teensy small, how could they possibly know of rainbow-colored wheat fields that grow on the rolling hills of Wenterwill? How could they know about red-faced howlergoons that haunt Bloodbridget where it spans the wild Reach River, the sparkling mystery of farriflies or the vast Outer Plains? What about waterwarts, lorks and panterleens, muskerrats, hatterhares or how otterwills swim the mighty Waterlove just downriver from Faller Cliffs?

The colony is so tiny, chutterbugs are barely there. That alone is reason why they know so little about Tossledowns. But, size isn’t all that keeps them in the dark.

It’s also an undying devotion to the harvest.

As any chutterbug will explain, there’s nothing more important. Harvest is what they do morning, noon, and night, what they talk about, laugh about, what they eat and what fills their dreams at night.

It’s what makes them chutterbugs.

So, when one of their own began to think of things that had little to do with the harvest, well, older chutterbugs weren’t very pleased. Who cares what makes wind blow and rain fall? What does it matter why the sun rises and sets as long as it helps the sourgrass grow? And how silly to wonder if there was anything to do besides the harvest!

“Foolish thoughts,” they cried when hearing such notions. “A waste of time for young minds!”

It was perfectly clear to hardworking chutterbugs that the youngster’s brain was jumbled up good. “Out of chutterbug kilter,” it was often said about his flights of fancy.

His family suggested he keep his thoughts to his self. Yet, try as he did to dismiss ideas that just pop into a young chutterhead’s mind, he couldn’t stop wondering if what he imagined was as silly as everyone said. So when no one was looking, he took a friend on an adventure inspired by a most daring notion.

It had to do with sourgrass, but became much more.