On the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, a large mound of a boarhound bounded after the butterflies, showering thick and gloopy slobber in his wake. Fang hated the Forest with its gnarled trees and strange, unfriendly smells; but the small creatures it attracted were fantastic playmates.
As the last remaining butterfly decided that it had had enough of avoiding Fang’s playful snaps, a light breeze swept through the quiet morning, bringing with it a smell. A strange, new smell. Fang stopped and sniffed. It was musty, like the old, grey man who sometimes visited Hagrid; but there was no sweetness mixed in, no promise of a delicious treat.
Ordinarily, Fang was very cowardly , but overwhelmed by curiosity he stuck his nose to the ground and followed the scent. So inquisitive was he, that he did not notice that he had walked in to the forest! Sniff. Pause. Sniff. Following the scent, Fang ventured deeper until … THUD!
With his eyes fixated on his marvellous nose, Fang had not seen the tree trunk getting closer and closer. He shook his head in surprise, and resumed his search, but it stopped here. At the unpleasantly hard tree. Fang pressed his nose to the ground again and sniffed until he had found where the smell was strongest . . . under
the tree. The breeze returned, but it was cold and harsh. Suddenly realising that he was in his least favourite place in the world, Fang whined, tail between his legs and began frantically digging at the soil. If he found what was making the strange smell he could go home and chase his tail and curl up by the fireplace. All of a sudden, instead of soil, there was a dull rap of his paw against wood; it was a box. And it’s lid was open, revealing a little person. Or so Fang thought. But this ‘person’ had no arms or legs or a face. It was a white pawn. Fang sniffed the object suspiciously, it didn’t smell the same as the old box, it smelt of . . . steak! Quickly, Fang picked the pawn up with his mouth and trotted back through the forest, head held high, pleased with his bravery and his treasure.
On returning to the vegetable patch Fang set about licking every part of the pawn, he could almost taste
raw meat. His ferocious licking had had, however, knocked off a miniscule pin that connected the head to the rest of the piece. It bounced off, spilling a bright red, sparkling liquid from the body. The breeze returned but now it was warm, and inviting, wafting the smell of cooked meat towards Fang’s nose. He lapped up the liquid. Delicious. But it made him dizzy, it made him sleepy. His saggy eyes drooped as he flopped into a deep sleep. When he came to, everything was bigger, his tail was gone! Where were his arms? His legs? He felt rigid, much like that tiny, white pawn.
How I created the image
1. I opened the base picture in paint
2. I used three colours and two brush sizes to cover the piece