Contestants had to remain in Town Square for the duration of the trial. We were spread in an attempt to shield our paintings from prying eyes, but peeks and sneaky glances were inevitable.
Inspiration refused to strike.
My paper was covered with… a dark misshapen blob. And that was it.
“It’s great! Is it… a mountain?” Kizzi’s voice drifted over my shoulder, breaking my spiral of dismay.
I snorted. “I don’t know what it is. Yet.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the witch. The bright light of one of the dual suns was directly behind her in my line of sight, casting her form into silhouette.
And her dragon was perched on top of her head.
I stifled a laugh. “New hat?” I asked as I shifted onto my ass, taking a momentary break. I kicked my legs out in front of me.
Kizzi reached up and patted the hip of the small dragon. “Fiella taught it to them. Ember won’t stop, and now Raine thinks she needs to do it, too. Annoying, right?” Quieter, she said, “I’ve tried shoving her off. She just comes right back with a vengeance and I’m tired of pulling icicles from my eyelashes.”
I tilted my head. Something about the silhouette was… pleasant to look at. I squinted into the indirect light.
Tandor approached, wrapping an arm around Kizzi’s waist and lifting a hand to swat at the dragon. “Be nice to your mother, Raine. You know she doesn’t like it when you mess up her hair.” Raine squawked with indignance before spreading her wings, hefting them once, twice, and taking off into the sky, only jostling Kizzi’s hair moderately in the process.
Finally.Finally, inspiration sunk its slippery claws under my skin.
I knew what I wanted to paint.
“Why are you grinning all weirdly like that?” Kizzi asked. She lifted a hand to shield my face. “Is the sunlight burning your corneas?”
I returned my gaze to my paper where the ghost of Kizzi’s silhouetted form lingered in flashes as I blinked. “I’ve got it.”
“Oh, fabulous!” Kizzi exclaimed, clapping excitedly. “Is it a mountain? I knew it was a mountain!”
“Not quite…” I picked up my paint brush, swirling it absentmindedly in a dish of water while I planned out my design.
I glanced down at my pretty tunic, covered by my nicest cloak. “Can you bring me an apron? This might get messy.”
Greens, blues, and yellows swirled together, surrounded by prominent greys and blacks.
I hummed to myself while I worked.
I wouldn’t consider myself an artist by any means—I wasn’t nearly as talented as Lunette, or even Velline—but I could translate an image to paper well enough.
At least, the image was identifiable.
I dipped my brush into black paint again, solidifying the outline. I worked carefully, delicately, making sure the details were precise.
Time was almost up, and I wasn’t going to make any mistakes now.
An errant strand of hair drifted over my eyes. I swiped it away with the back of my hand.
“Two minutes!” Tommins called from his station in the center of the park.
“Folk of Moonvale! You better hurry!” Linc echoed.
I rolled my eyes before grinning wryly. Very helpful. The human sure was a riot.
I finished the painting, layering on a few dark slashes in the background, trying my best to bring the image to life, to give it some depth.
It sort of worked.
