Free The Fire Within (The Last Dragon Chro) by Chris D'Lacey

face like thunder sheset off at high speed for Henry’s front door, Lucy and David close behind.
    As luck would have it, Henry had just arrived home from the library. He tipped his hat as Liz approached.
    “Henry, let me into your garden now!” Liz pointed at the paneled gate.
    “Problem, Mrs. P.?”
    “Bonnington’s in there. If he’s stuck somewhere he shouldn’t be, there’s going to be trouble!”
    Henry’s face turned the color of an uncooked pancake. He jangled his keys and went into the house. He emerged seconds later from the kitchen door, and slid the bolt on the garden gate.
    Liz and Lucy flashed down the path.
    Within seconds, they heard a piercing scream. Every bird within a half-mile radius took to the air and flew for its life.
    Mr. Bacon gasped in horror. His trap was on the ground, turned over on its side.
    A furry face was peering through the mesh.
    “Get him out!”
Liz thundered, pointing at the box.
    Henry raised a trembling hand to his mouth. “But it’s impossible,” he blustered. “That cat’s too fat.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    Mr. Bacon bent like a tree in a gale. “Size to space ratio, Mrs. P. Scientific improbability. The cat must have practically stuffed itself in.”
    “I’ll stuff
you
in,” Liz said dangerously, “if you don’t release my cat, right now.”
    Henry hooked a finger under his collar. He crouched down slowly and reached for the door. Bonnington hissed and bared his fangs. Mr. Bacon drew back in alarm.
    “Let me,” said David, kneeling down. Bonnington’s reaction was no less virulent. He took one look at David and spat like water in a pan of hot oil. David leaned closer and gritted his teeth. “Cut it out,” he whispered. “I came to let you out.” He yanked the trap open. Bonnington sprang out. He took a hostile swipe at the tenant’s hand, then dropped to his belly and triedto slink away. Lucy scooped him up and handed him to Liz. Bonnington pushed his nose inside her cardigan and started to mew like a day-old kitten.
    “Okay,” said Liz, almost nose to nose with Henry. “That trap has got to go.”
    Lucy’s eyes widened. She shot a glance at David. He studied his nails and gave a tuneless whistle.
    Henry Bacon sucked in through his teeth. “I’ll definitely rethink it, Mrs. P. Minor modifications, perhaps.”
    “I’ll minor modify you,” Liz growled. “If that door had come down and trapped Bonnington’s tail, he could have been seriously hurt.” (Bonnington tentatively flicked his tail as if making sure he still possessed one.)
    “But Mrs. P.,” protested Henry, “what about the —?”
    “Get rid of it, Henry, or else!” And ordering Lucy to come along with her, Liz turned sharply and marched back home.
    Mr. Bacon looked to David for support.
    “Want a hand smashing it up?” said the tenant.

B IRTHDAY I DEAS
     
    W hen David returned to the kitchen, Bonnington was being treated like royalty. There was cream in his water bowl and salmon in a saucer. Lucy was hunkering nearby, stroking him. Liz was covering the
Chunky Chunks
with plastic wrap.
    “Phoof,” said David. “Thank goodness he’s safe.”
    “Quiet,” said Lucy. “You mustn’t remind him. He has a delicate constipation, doesn’t he, Mom?”
    “Constitution,” Liz corrected, washing her hands. “Yes, he’s been through a horrible ordeal.”
    Lucy ran Bonnington’s tail through her fingers and told him he’d been a very brave kitty.
    “A real hero, isn’t he?” David said, reaching down to scratch Bonnington’s ear.
    Fzzzn-uffn-pffn-sass! Bonnington hissed.
    “Goodness gracious!” Liz exclaimed. “That’s twice in five minutes that he spat at you.”
    David did his best to give an innocent shrug. “I guess he’s feeling a little fragile. Um, how long till dinner?”
    “About an hour,” said Liz, flicking a glance at a wide-eyed dragon on the windowsill. She frowned and threw the tenant a suspicious look.
    David responded with a cheesy grin.