Spectrum Eyes
   
I trample through the thick leaves, just as tired and hot and frustrated as ever, stumbling about with no destination, trying to convince myself that this exploration was worthwhile. I groan and lean my head up, mouth gaping, seeing nothing but a lush, leafy canopy. I breathe heavily and let my shoulders slump. The sweat on my body plasters my clothes and hair to my skin, and my tongue feels like the Sahara desert. I look down, reaching for my canteen, when I see a glint of shimmery black in the leaves just about a yard in front of me.
   
Thrilled, wondering if I’ve finally found it, I forget all else and trot forward, parting the leaves.
   
In a depression in the leaves sits exactly what I’m looking for—living gold. A small, scaly body, slumbering quietly, with short legs, a long snout, a tail, and little wings—a baby dragon, one of the last in existence. They’re worth millions—I could be rich in a matter of hours.
   
I smile so big my face aches. I try to laugh, but I can’t force the sound out of my throat. I squat on my knees, inch forward, and stretch out my arms to pick it up. But before I can, it makes a little grunting noise. My arms shoot back. The dragon opens its eyes.
   
I freeze, no longer smiling. Rather, I’m more curious, staring into their eyes. I’ve heard of how entrancing they are, but never actually looked at them. They’re big, black, and shimmery, with all of the colors of the rainbow dancing in them, color scattered like stars. My heart melts. It’s adorable. I breathe through my nose, noticing it smells like river water, plums, and—fear.
   
Fear. I step back. It’s afraid of me—and not without reason. I was going to sell it. How could I be so heartless? I couldn’t do that to it, not now.
   
I back up slowly, giving it a reassuring smile. I’ll leave it in peace. I can find something better to do than selling a life away.