Chapter 9
Outsmarting the Sleepy Dragon
Their shortcut leads them past a slumbering, but easily woken, dragon. Baba Yaga's cunning and Anya's stealthy movements are put to the test as they tiptoe past the beast.
The overgrown path, a mere whisper of its former glory, wound deeper into the ancient forest. Baba Yaga, her red scarf a defiant splash of color against the emerald gloom, steered the scooter with a practiced, if slightly wobbly, hand. Anya, perched precariously behind her, clutched the worn leather seat, her knuckles white. The Talking Crow, nestled in a wicker basket strapped to the handlebars, let out a series of indignant squawks.
"Are you sure about this, Baba Yaga?" Anya’s voice was a strained whisper, barely audible above the scooter’s sputtering engine and the rustling leaves. "This path looks…unloved. And possibly inhabited by things that don't appreciate unexpected visitors."
Baba Yaga chuckled, a sound like dry leaves skittering across a stone floor. "Nonsense, Anya! This is a shortcut. The Crow himself told me about it. Didn't you, old feather-duster?"
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