Vyrathion’s roar is low and guttural, vibrating through the branch. I stroke him through it, watching in awe as his glowing release rains down in glittering streaks, lost to the jungle below. When the last powerful spurt fades, he slumps back against the trunk, breathing hard, eyes half-lidded with pleasure.
I smile up at him, lips glistening, the distant sound of his seed hitting leaves barely audible over the wind. “Good thing we’re so high up.”
17
- Vyrathion-
“That…” I begin, but words fail me. The situation is too bizarre to comprehend.
“Did you like what I showed you?” Morgan asks.
“I think you know I did,” I state. “And I now agree that it was worth it coming up here.”
“I thought you would,” she says. “I will call you Vyrathion the Fun from now on. Now can we go back down?”
“Oh, all right. But in a more effective way.” I grab her, put her over my shoulder and climb down, using my claws and superior strength as one should, not the strange branch-climbing manner of the female.
She screams and writhes all the way down, while also clinging to me for all she’s worth. “Don’t drop me! Are you sure what will hold? That bark isn’t safe! Nooo, don’t turn that way! Not so fast! Not so faaaaieee!”
It’s all very annoying, but we arrive at the ground with no particular injuries. I set Morgan down and note her amusingly red face.
“Can you not do that again?” she demands, having to support herself on the tree trunk.
“Me? It was you who wanted to climb,” I point out. “And getting back down caused you no great harm.”
“No, but… fine,” she says and brushes some bark and leaves off her. “It’s just that you fell the last ten feet.”
“I didn’tfall,” I tell her. “I simply climbed down faster than your mind could follow. Now then. Are you done climbing? Or shall we try another? I do like what happens in the top of these trees, you see. How about that one?” I point at another tree.
“No, I think I’m done climbing for now,” Morgan says weakly. “Oh,thattree has some fruits on it. Want to taste?”
“I don’t,” I tell her. “But I suppose I can’t keep you away from it.”
“I’ll just check. I haven’t seen those things before.” She saunters over to the tree and picks some yellow bulbs off it.
My gaze follows her before I force myself to look at something else.
This is still ridiculous. Why am I giving her this much attention? Why do I indulge her whims? Why am I still here?
She’s not a witch. She can’t be. She’s far too clumsy and unguarded and ludicrous. She trips over roots, she speaks to Plood, she gets insane ideas and she is completely at the mercy of the jungle. No witch I’ve ever met would behave this way.
And no spell should last this long, no potion could make me this crazy for this long. If she were a sorceress, I would be sure by now. I can use my own kind of magic, and this isn’t it.
No, there must be some other reason why I’m still allowing her in my presence. It must be the hunger for gold, the weakness it creates. This pitiful form is different from my dragon form and clearly makes me act with weakness, as if it thinks this female is my equal.
Morgan tastes the fruit, gives off an approving sound and picks more. Then she bends to pick a yellow flower that she puts behind one ear. Then she picks another and shows to me. “Look! It’s as golden as you.”
“It’s gold-ish,” I concede. “Not quite as golden as my scales, perhaps.”
She reaches up and sticks the flower into my hair. “Well, now it can see what kind of gold to aim for.”
There are so many things wrong with that sentence that I ignore it. No, this can’t possibly be a witch I’m dragging around the jungle.
“Are you done with your eating?” I inquire. “I know you’re not done with it for good. I mean, for now.”
“Umm,” Morgan says before she spits out a pit from the fruit. “Actually, if there’s more of that meat, I kind of liked it.” The pit has stuck to her foot and she kicks it away. It bounces off a tree trunk and hits her hip, making her squeal. No, definitely not a witch.
“There is only what I brought,” I tell her. “Perhaps you didn’t eat it all?”
