The floor is lava, more or less. A bubbling layer of molten aluminium, fast cooling from bright orange to a shimmering silver. Spilt from a huge industrial cauldron and scattered all across this wing of the factory, frazzling electronics and gumming up the mechanisms. What a mess.
She blasts the floor before her with a torrent of blue flame, then scoops up the softened metal with two great clawed paws, and dumps it into the uprighted cauldron.
‘Thanks for coming so fast,’ says the foreman on the balcony above, rubbing the back of his head, looking sheepish.
‘Oh it’s no problem,’ says the dragon. ‘This happens pretty often though. Perhaps you should get me a uniform?’
Paddy Dobson
26th February 2021