Summoner: The Demon

Chapter 3

Note: Hello people! This is an unofficial scene, completely fictional, and not in The Novice. If you have more suggestions, such as lessons, Corcillium trips, and even random oneshots please leave them in the comment section below. This scene was inspired by my friend's suggestion, not mine but he doesn't have Wattpad. Don't forget to vote or comment so you can get your dedications! Thanks! -T

P.S. I will not take all suggestions, but I probably will take most. I shall tell you guys what situation Ignatius is in beforehand so it's easier. Without further ado, I present Chapter Three!

Sunlight streaming through his scaled eyelids, the Salamander yawned, greeting the new day. He and his master, a young boy named Fletcher, had slept under a great pine tree, on a bed of prickly needles. The young summoner scratched himself obviously irritated at the itchy needles. They had gotten in his clothes, causing discomfort in many unfortunate spots.

"Good morning." Fletcher muttered sleepily. "Want some food?" He inquired. An affirmative chirp answered his question. As Fletcher rummaged through his pack, Ignatius scuttled into the forest for quick exploration trip. The little imp grew tired of running, so he climbed  a tree and gazed over the forest near the village. His master had called it 'Pelt', but in Ignatius' opinion it should be called 'Wood' or 'Smoke'. That was far more precise. But wait.  There was someone or something in the forest, and he didn't want to meet them. But he had to know more, so the demon hopped from branch to branch, swiftly locating the movement. Probably nothing. But as the Salamander turned do go back, convinced it was an elk, something rustled in the undergrowth.

Four burly men were hiking towards Fletcher's camp. They all bore torches and swords, probably one of many search parties for Fletcher. 

"Hey Carl, what was that?" The man first in line said. A chipmunk jumped on his face, pooped, and bounded off into the forest.

"A SQUIRREL you nimrod!" Carl retorted, than went from his position of second in line to last, probably to escape the droppings on the man's face. "Oh, maybe a fugitive jumped on your head and did his business!" He continued sarcastically. "Come on, Gerry."

"Before that!" Gerry said, wiping the stool from his eyes. He chucked some at Carl in spite. "I heard something move." The man announced as he narrowed his eyes and scanned the vicinity. Luckily, the man's slitted eyes never flicked skyward, leaving the imp's presence undetected. Gerry drew his sword, the slightly rusted blade glinted in the sunlight.

"Quit being dramatic, Gerry. We know you took drama classes, but you don't have to show off your 'talents'." A nasal voice replied. "No one is watching. Save it for tonight." 

"I had one accident at the bar! Just ONE! We we to over this, Norris!" Gerry said. 

"But it was horrible!" The fourth man laughed, slapping Norris on the back, who joined in. Carl started chuckling, and the man continued. "I mean, you claimed on the roof, vomited on us, started singing, and jumped into a barrel of ale! In your skivvies!" 

"Well, you aren't perfect either." Gerry said, defeated.

"Admit it, John's got a point." Carl said after laughing. "I know you only removed your shirt, but your pants ripped off." The three erupted in giggles again, John rolled on the ground and in the process, got weevils in his hair. He threw it a the manure coated man, redoubling their mirth. 

"Hey! Come on! We're supposed to be on patrol!" Gerry yelled, but there was no use. As he opened his mouth to speak one more, a weevil entered the gaping hole that was his mouth. He choked, spitting and rubbing all unwanted things of his face. Eventually he to collapsed with laughter joining the writhing guard on the forest floor. They foursome of incompetent guards had left their bags unguarded, so taking a calculated risk, the demon slid to the floor and quietly padded over to their oak framed pack. Without provisions, they would be forced to return to Pelt unless they could hunt, which the Salamander somehow doubted.

"Hey guys, wait. Let's take a break here. I have something." Norris said, standing up and walking to the bag. Ignatius hid behind it, hoping for the best and preparing to pounce. Norris took out a glass bottle of hard liqueur, and the foursome cheered enthusiasticly. Ignatius sighed in relief. 

"I can't believe you snuck that with us!!" Gerry said, grinning.

"I've got more for later." Norris announced. I'll just get cups. Four pine bark cups sat in the pack, and were retrieved by Norris without noticing the demon. The men started drinking and laughing loudly, concealing the little noise of Ignatius dragging their pack away. When he was far away enough, the lizard let the pack jingle as he ran. 

When he emerged at Fletcher's campsite, a cheery blaze had been set up along with warm venison and potatoes they found last night and baked in the embers of the fire. The boy himself sat patiently, waiting for his imp. After he saw the pack that Ignatius had brought, one exlemation rand from his lips: "Where the hell did you get that?"

Note: Thanks for reading! I just wanted to say please vote! It would mean the world to me and I wanna put you guys in my dedications. Thanks again!