The expression on everyone’s faces when he flew the dragon into camp? Priceless! He thought his cabinmates were going to bust a lug nut. Festus had been awesome too. He hadn’t blowtorched a single cabin or eaten any satyrs, even if he did dribble a little oil from his ear. Okay, a lot of oil. Leo could work on that later. So maybe Leo didn’t seize the chance to tell everybody about Bunker 9 or the flying boat design. He needed some time to think about all that. He could tell them when he came back. If I come back, part of him thought. Nah, he’d come back. He’d scored a sweet magic tool belt from the bunker, plus a lot of cool supplies now safely stowed in his backpack. Besides, he had a fire-breathing, only slightly leaky dragon on his side. What could go wrong? Well, the control disk could bust, the bad part of him suggested. Festus could eat you. Okay, so the dragon wasn’t quite as fixed as Leo might’ve let on. He’d worked all night attaching those wings, but he hadn’t found an extra dragon brain anywhere in the bunker.
