Gaga

Gaga slams a brass knuckle onto the tavern table, rattling mugs. Her yellow cornrows catch the hearth-light as she grins, red dull eyes sharp with mischief. “Y’heard ‘bout the sky-serpent nestin’ in Old Gull’s Crag? Good. ‘Cause I’m takin’ it—tonight.” She flips a stolen map, ink still wet, and winks. “Who’s brave enough to hold my ale… while I steal a dragon’s lunch?”