And yet, when I hear noises from the other bank, I quickly duck out of view and peer out from behind a bush.
Someone is coming. Two shapes. No, three.
Tribesmen. Orange stripes, swords in their hands.
Damn. What if Vyrathion has gone into an ambush and these guys killed him? And the tree is still across the river, so they could easily reach me.
They move slowly, as if they expect to be surprised at any moment, making their way to the tree bridge.
Shit.
One of them puts his foot on the trunk and pushes, but the tree doesn’t budge. It must weigh several tons, and the roots on the other side and the crown on my side obviously keep it stable.
He jumps up on the trunk and slowly makes his way out towards the island.
I’m painfully aware that they must be able to see the smoke and probably also smell the cooked meat.
I slowly pull away, staying down. I don’t have any weapons, and I’ll only jump into that river if I absolutely have to.
For several long moments, nothing happens.
The tribesman on the trunk continues his cautious advance while the other two wait on the bank behind him. One of them points toward the smoke rising from our fire. The other says something I can't make out. Whatever they're discussing, they seem convinced they've found something worth investigating.
I glance toward the jungle where Vyrathion disappeared. “Come on,” I mutter. “ For once in your life, show up when you're supposed to.”
The lead tribesman is nearly halfway across when movement catches my eye. A dark shape emerges from the undergrowth behind the three warriors.
At first they don't notice him. Then one of them turns. Everything happens very quickly after that.
The tribesman shouts and swings his sword. Vyrathion casually sidesteps the blow as if avoiding an annoying insect. His hand closes around the warrior's wrist. A moment later the man is airborne before he hits the river with a tremendous splash.
The second warrior hesitates just long enough to make a fatal mistake. Vyrathion drives a shoulder into his chest and sends him stumbling backward. The man pinwheels wildly, loses hisfooting on the muddy bank, and disappears into the current beside his companion.
The third tribesman makes a considerably wiser decision. Instead of attacking, he turns and runs. For a moment I think he'll escape. Then Vyrathion catches up with him in three long strides.
The dragon simply grabs the back of the warrior's loincloth, yanks him around, and says something.
I can't hear the words from this distance. Whatever he says has an immediate effect: The tribesman nods frantically. Then he limps back into the jungle as fast as his injured leg will carry him.
Vyrathion watches him disappear before looking toward the river. The two men he threw into the water are already being swept downstream. Both seem more interested in surviving than returning to the island.
Only then does he stroll toward the tree. He crosses the trunk with the same relaxed confidence he uses when walking through camp. The entire encounter appears to have annoyed him far more than it excited him.
I stand up slowly. "Did you just fight three warriors?"
Vyrathion glances at me. "Certainly not. They foughtme. There is a difference."
"You threw two of them into the river."
"They were standing near the river. It seemed the right place for them." He reaches the island and places one hand against the massive trunk.
"What are you doing?" I ask, worried.
"Removing a problem."
Before I can say anything else, he shoves. The enormous tree moves. Roots tear free from the opposite bank. Mud explodes into the air. Then the entire trunk slides sideways and crashes into the current.
The river immediately grabs hold of its prize and carries it away.
