Pica---I decided to accept your challenge. Observe the following:
Hilda lit her torch, then the other two, until there was enough light to see down the gloomy pathway leading to the dungeons. Jack knelt, pressing his palm firmly onto the grisly ground.
"She's here all right," he murmured.
"Ay," Hilda nodded. "Which way, Hamish?"
Hamish wet his fingers in his mouth, before holding them above his head to test the air.
"Air's hotter that way." Hamish pointed toward the dungeon doors with his torch.
Jack cringed - he hated dragons. He moaned weakly, "Hilda - you lead."
Hilda was about to yank open the doors when Hamish yelled, "No, Hilda!” She flinched, falling backwards. There was a hiss—and the whole door was in flames.
Jack screamed, seeing brilliant eyes yellow as gold buttons. Hilda thrust her sword into the dragon's flesh. He wiped his brow, relieved.
Thomas waved goodbye to his grandmother before stepping outside of his house into the heated June day. On the front porch rested his mud-caked shoes. Thomas already felt the stickiness of sweat spotting his neck. His mouth was as dry as cotton, and laced with the sickly sweetness of his grandmother’s lemonade.
He pulled on his boots, not bothering to lace them - his fingers already felt heavy and clumsy and the thick laces he deemed too difficult to attempt at the moment. He snagged his straw hat from the hook on the porch's column and staggered down the front steps.
Thomas dragged his feet, knocking them against the loose gravel of his front yard, as he made for the dirt road separating him from the sugar cane fields. He squinted, seeing heat shimmering on the road as he walked up alongside it.
"What...?" Thomas shaded his eyes and whirled around. This made him quite dizzy and he kneeled on the road for a spell to clear his head. It was so very hot out that day. Thomas breathed out cool wind form his mouth into the steamy air.
A car was approaching - and fast. A shiny black one. It had white hubcaps which quite handsomely complemented the sleek color. Thomas shook his head to concentrate on the speed at which it was approaching and to realize he was in danger. The feeling was slow to come.
"What? But cars don't ever come through here..." The car was getting closer. Thomas stared. Heat made him feel detached - he was so tired from the heaviness that was pressing down on him from all sides. If only he could have so more of that icy lemonade.
The car was so close. A hare hopped suddenly onto the road. The animal startled Thomas back into reality; he launched himself backwards, and as if in slow motion he saw his right shoe slide off his foot and onto the road, and he saw the car's wheels run over the hare, flattening it. And there was his shoe that had slipped off - nestled beside it.
we shall see yours...