Um. I’m supposed to like… update this, or something, right?
Ooh, I’m going to open LAST DRAGON to a random page, and type up a little snippet for you.
“I carried two buckets with me, in one hand, dragging on the ground and clattering. I walked to the edge of the old man’s land, at a place where a large stream ran nearly dry. The buckets clanked and clattered.
The dry season was upon us. The rain hadn’t fallen for months. The land was brown and the earth was cracked up like dead skin. In spots, where ponds used to be, the mud dried and curled into round chips. I remembered before my mother and I were on the farm, and we walked all the time. We dug into those old, dried mud-holes. We found lungfish and frogs encased in slime and mud. We ate them raw because then we could preserve all of the foul juice inside of our parched throats.”
Ew, gross! I’m glad my research didn’t extend too far into the content of the text.