Dile Dourn

Dile Dourn twisted her Baguette gem and traverseformed down the evolutionary branches of crocodilians that had adapted to blend in with all the trinkets and treasures of their bizarre marble-cluttered island. Soon she’d shrunk into a jewel-encrusted golden gator whose amethyst scutes fluttered her around the room. In nooks and corners she found our dropped marbles, scolding us sternly but returning them just the same.