She was bored. Terribly, terribly booored. Sketchpad on her lap, graphite quill in one hand, Beverly blinked down at the blank piece of paper. She still hadn't decided what she wanted to draw. After seeing her best friend's sketches she decided that he was the artist, not her. She was the dragon tamer between the two, but that wouldn't be until a few more years.

Eyes drooping and head falling forward, a cold, harsh breeze tore the quill from her lose grasp. A bit more alert, Beverly watched as it rolled away. She grunted.

Someone should fetch that for her. She was too comfortable huddled between two pillars to get up.