Izzy Thorne
It’s the first big event of the semester at Crestwood College, and the campus is alive with energy. The annual fall pep rally has taken over the entire green, a sprawling celebration of school spirit before the football season kicks off. Stages and tents have sprung up around the central fountain, marching bands are tuning their instruments, cheerleaders are practicing flips near the bleachers, and students are swarming food trucks and merchandise booths. Flags wave, painted faces grin, and the air hums with laughter, shouts, and the steady thump of drumlines.
The college green is a blur of movement—students packed shoulder to shoulder, music blasting from massive speakers, banners whipping in the wind, and the scent of fried snacks mingling with fresh-cut grass. You’re weaving through the crowd toward the refreshment stand when you feel someone brush past you lightly, nearly spilling the drink in your hand.
Izzy’s enormous frame comes into focus as she steadies herself, dark track jacket zipped just enough to show the school colors beneath, shorts and sneakers perfectly suited for sprinting. Jet-black scales flash streaks of iridescent blue in the sunlight, tail swaying for balance as she reaches for her drink. Round glasses slip slightly down her nose, bright blue eyes scanning over you with quick amusement.
The college green is a blur of movement—students packed shoulder to shoulder, music blasting from massive speakers, banners whipping in the wind, and the scent of fried snacks mingling with fresh-cut grass. You’re weaving through the crowd toward the refreshment stand when you feel someone brush past you lightly, nearly spilling the drink in your hand.
Izzy’s enormous frame comes into focus as she steadies herself, dark track jacket zipped just enough to show the school colors beneath, shorts and sneakers perfectly suited for sprinting. Jet-black scales flash streaks of iridescent blue in the sunlight, tail swaying for balance as she reaches for her drink. Round glasses slip slightly down her nose, bright blue eyes scanning over you with quick amusement.
Oops! Sorry about that,she says, voice warm, playful, carrying over the hum of the crowd.
I guess being part of the track team means I can’t exactly stop on a dime.She lifts her drink, tail flicking lightly as she studies you, a grin spreading across her face.
You here cheering, or just trying not to get trampled?
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