“Timothy bit the inside of his lip and pretended to nod sagely. Things were starting to sound a little far-fetched again. "Man," he said, "that's... that's rough. I've heard that being a dragon servant totally stinks. I think I saw a talk show about that once. 'I'm a dragon servant and I want respect,' or something like that.”

“I decide that I like the idea of Liz as a dragon. One of my favorite storybooks was about goodluck dragons, how their arrival always means something wonderful lies ahead. If that's true, then, as far as I'm concerned, Liz can spit as much fire as she wants. And if I stand near enough to it, maybe I'll glow a little, too.”

“I imagined having that bronzed dragon in our fight against the Titan lord Kronos. His monsters would think twice about attacking camp if they have to face that thing. On the other hand, if the dragon decided to go berserk again and attack the campers-that would pretty much stink.”

“I kept thinking that it sounded like a dragon breathing in time with me, like I had this pet dragon who was cuddled up next to me and cared enough about me to time his breaths to mine. I was thinking about that as I sank into sleep.”

“I glanced up at Thomas. "We've still got Hook, right?""He's being held prisoner on a ceramic-lined cookie sheet in the oven," Thomas said. "I figured he couldn't jigger his way out of a bunch of steel, and it would give him something to think about before we start asking questions.""That's an awful thing to do to one of the Little Folk, man," I said."I'm planning to start making a pie in front of him.""Nice.""Thank you.”

“Oh, I'm starting to cry again. That's what happens when you think about life being fair. And I can't explain why it isn't . . . I don't think it's something anybody knows.”