About S'more the SandWing: ---------------------------------------- Friends ~ Antonio, Smoke, Phoenix OTHER Friends ~ Latte, Snake, Sandy ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- History: Book 1: ~ Friends with Latte, Snake, and Sandy ~ Becomes friends with Antonio at the end of the book Book 2: ~Goes on a trip to Scorpion's Rest with Antonio Book 3: ~ Not shown a lot Book 4: ~ Goes missing at the battle at Hudson Bay
Here's A Sneak Peek Of: Stories From The Dragon World (after finale book) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- S’more Final Story WIP (SPOLIERS!!!) It’s been years since he had last seen his friends. Years since Stormbringer’s takeover and the moment where he washed up on this Hawaiian-like island. He’d been crowned the greatest soldier, later crowned commander, got a place at the palace, met a few new friends, Vinncent and Clark, and brought a nice mini garden on his porch of the palace to remind him of home. Or better yet the Rainforest where Rose, Mango, and Valentina lived, and last seen, if they were even still alive. But he had more important things to do as commander. As the years passed by, he helped take down a league of CoatWings (different story for later) and commanded a group of soldiers to move a group of refugees into the village. And if he didn’t have anything to do, his daily assignment was to “help” teach a group of soldiers every afternoon, sharp. But the next assignment was different. As in really, really different. “Attend the royal wedding…” S’more whispered. He’d forgotten Lord Boxxon’s son Stephen was getting married to Alicia tomorrow! “Hmph… as if I’m going.” S’more said, then threw the invitation onto his desk table and walked away. He didn’t need to go. The general, or actually commander, didn’t come to weddings… or any special occasions. “As if!” he huffed, then realized he couldn’t do that. He had to attend whether he liked it or not. Nobody disobeys Lord Boxxon, especially when it’s an assignment. “Ah, whatever…” he mumbled as he realized he’s going. He then walked out of his pouch, and towards his desk where he threw his invitation and where his workspace was. Lastly, he cranked the light from his lamp up, dipped his quill, and started writing. * * * * * “You excited for tonight?” the palace cook, Vinncent, finally said. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…” S’more replied, frowning at the question. “You seem… disleveled.” Clark noted, woodworker of the village.
