The Chroma, has a publisher!! It should be soon, here is a tidbit

Eight times thinking she had found the chest, another clue came.
In her dreams, they told her she would look for this and she had laughed. 
“Is she ready yet?”
“No way, she does not even listen.”
“The key, the key, she needs the key.”
Rain awoke lying at the base of the rocks.
What happened?
She had been looking for the entrance.
She had dreamed of another time. 
She had needed a key to get in the cavern.
Where was this key? Why had the poem led her here?
“Darn it,” she cussed, and then caught herself. 
“Oh, sorry.”
Rain collected her temper.
Breathing slow.
Filling her lungs.
Inviting energy in.
Breathing out anything not needed.
Out it whooshed.
She brushed off the leaves and dirt and absentmindedly wandered to her shiny black 1965 bug. 
Freshly painted, with a sunroof cut.
The interior original, pristine.
A steal from an estate sale, the year before.
It started with a small sputtering protest, quickly humming and purring.
Rain knew how to care for cars.
She liked this little Volkswagen, babied it.
Putting thousands into refurbishing it.
It was fully loaded.
Rain ran her hands over the dragon she had just found in Wyoming, smoothly marbled burnt red.
Cool to the touch, a sweet power contained within, it chimed.
Heading up the last thirty miles of road to Hot Springs, she let the car run a couple times.
The road was empty, too tempting.
When the speedometer reached 100, she slowed again.
The red signs announcing the local businesses were a bit distracting.
Usually there was a speed trap ahead, anyway.
Hot Springs Lumber, Hot Springs Fitness, Syme’s, Loafin’ Around, Alameda’s, Buck’s, Fergie’s, they flashed by, begging tourists to stop.
Rain was irritated and road weary, annoyed to be empty-handed.
Excited to see home.
She liked finding something when searching.
She did not care what.
Today, Rain felt she lost.
Not sure what the land would look like, Rain drove forward, slower.
It had an outhouse, a tipi and a shed, but not much else. 
She needed a soak, so figured she would drop her stuff and then head over to the Waters. 
Pulling into town, the local sheriff was parked in his usual spot, by the Corner Store, waiting for someone to speed through. Rain waved.

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