The Runaway Princess by Kate Coombs

dragon!” Cam snapped. “Do you have a better idea?”
    Meg didn’t. They tramped awhile in cranky silence.
Then Meg decided to forgive Cam by talking about something else. “He needs a name.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThe dragon.”
    â€œHow about Sniffy?” Cam suggested.
    â€œCam!”
    â€œWhat? There he goes, sniffing and sniffing—”
    â€œNo.” Meg caught herself from falling again. “He needs a name he can grow into. Something dramatic.”
    â€œNosy?”
    â€œI’ll think of a name by myself, thank you very much,” she huffed.
    â€œI hope Tob doesn’t mess with my bean vines,” Cam mused. “He was mad the other day when I went off spying with you.”
    â€œDon’t talk about beans. Aren’t you hungry?”
    â€œI’m trying not to think about it,” Cam said.
    They walked on for at least another mile. “Stop!” Meg cried.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI do see a light!”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œDown there!” Meg called the dragon so she could get a better look at the terrain. Sure enough, a trail dropped away down the hill. They had missed it in the darkness.
    Â 
    Dagle and Dorn had to follow the little boy so far south of the city that they lost a fraction of their good humor
by the time they got to his grandmother’s house. When the child’s granny agreed to sell the animal and invited them for supper besides, they soon cheered up again. Now they were heading back.
    â€œShouldn’t we have reached the city by now?” Dorn asked.
    â€œI think we missed the turn,” Dagle told him, tugging on the cow’s lead. “Maybe we should spend the night by the side of the road.”
    â€œSurely we’re getting close.”
    They trudged along, their shadows swinging with the sweep of Dorn’s lantern. The road began to narrow. Soon after, it sloped upward.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Dagle said.
    Dorn shuttered the lantern briefly, peering ahead. “It’s a light!”
    They quickened their pace. But Dagle slowed again, disappointed. “That’s not the city. It’s another traveler. Maybe he’s lost, like we are.”
    â€œMaybe he’s not.”
    They came closer. “Ho there!” Dagle called.
    â€œHello?” came a girl’s voice.
    â€œIt’s a lass,” Dorn told his brother.
    â€œAnd a lad,” Dagle said when they met up with the other travelers. A boy with curly brown hair stood beside a girl with her lighter hair in a braid. The girl stooped to adjust an odd-looking bundle at her feet—a dusty cloak that seemed to be moving about. There was no sign of a light.

    The cow mooed uneasily.
    â€œWhy, it’s the lad and lass from the castle,” Dorn said.
    â€œHello,” the boy said. “How are you?”
    â€œVery well,” Dagle said. “We’ve just purchased this fine cow!”
    â€œWhat for?” the girl asked. She straightened and stepped in front of her bundle. The bundle coughed.
    â€œMind your manners, Emma,” the boy said. “My sister’s not used to princes,” he explained.
    The girl nearly choked, she was that abashed.
    â€œI remember,” Dagle said kindly.
    â€œYou see, lass, this cow is going to help us catch a dragon!” Dorn said.
    The girl looked alarmed. “It is?”
    Dagle smiled. “Don’t be afraid for our safety, lass. The cow is merely bait for the ingenious trap that my brother and I will soon be constructing.”
    The boy put his foot out to one side as if it hurt. Something thumped.
    â€œWhat’s that you’ve got?” Dorn asked, lifting his lantern.
    â€œMy auntie’s pig,” the girl blurted. “We’re taking him to her farm.”
    Dorn lowered the lantern. “You aren’t lost, then?” he asked, pleased.
    â€œNo,” said the boy. “Are you?”
    Dagle and Dorn glanced