Shalomon came back to the everyday world, and looked at the paper under his hands. There was something, but what was it? It was complex, and full of symbols, and a bit frightening. He knew this was his last chance and he was afraid he might already have blown it. But what could he do?
He drew in a slow, deep breath and made an effort to calm his soaring pulse rate before raising one shaking hand.
Teacher left his desk and came down the narrow aisle, with his scaly sides brushing the desks as he walked.
He picked up the paper and looked at it for a long moment, exhaling a spurt of bluish smoke through the red craters of his nostrils. Then he took the paper in both of his ‘hands’ holding it away from his snout and breathing more smoke accompanied by tiny gouts of flame.
Shalomon scarcely dared to breathe. Would his drawing pass muster, or would it be rent in twain by contemptuous claws?
Teacher exhaled more smoke and flame, before turning a reptilian eye on the cringing boy.
“Satisfactory,” he grunted “you are deemed worthy.”
Shalomon bowed. Satisfactory. That was all one could ask.