“Those guys are actually not that dangerous,” Morgan tells me as we keep walking. “They just want to help.”
“Their help looks remarkably like the opposite,” I grunt. “But as long as this island stays free of them, they won’t bother me too much.”
We get to the place where I dumped the fire log. The end of it is now black charcoal, and a thin stream of gray smoke rises straight up.
“Oh,” Morgan says and lets go of my hand before she kneels down by the log. “I want to use this.” She blows on the smoke, and soon a small flame shoots out. She keeps blowing until the flames grow and the log is on fire again. “It’s not like your dragon fire, I’m sure. But it’s all I have.”
“It’s of course merely a pale mockery of true fire,” I agree. “But if it’s useful to you, then I allow it.”
“Hey, you brought me this fire,” Morgan points out. “And I’m really grateful that you did.” She takes my hand again and strokes it in a way I haven’t experienced before in my long life.
“Now I can cook the rest of the meat.” She finds the slices that she’s wrapped in a leaf and goes on to heat them over the flames.
She sits down cross-legged and looks up at me. “What if you were to relax a little, Vyrathion? Sit down? And maybe you can tell me why they call you ‘the Wild’?”
I think about it, including the likelihood of any other dragon seeing me sit on the bare ground. Then I deign to take my place on the cold end of the fire log. “It was during the reign of King Smatirol the Short-lived. I followed Buparex the Short to his lair without him seeing me. He was ancient even then, and very proud of himself. The sort of dragon who believed nobody could surprise him because nobody ever had.”
Morgan nods. “And naturally you took that as a challenge.”
“It plainlywasa challenge. Just not to me personally, but to everyone.”
“Plainly,” she agrees with a pleasing seriousness.
“I followed him for three days through the mountains. Then I slipped into his lair after he went to sleep. He had eight treasure chambers.”
“Eight? Big hoard.”
“Moderately big. One was hidden. Naturally I found it and started evaluating the quality of his hoard. During my evaluation, I found a magnificent crown that had belonged to some king or other. I picked it up for closer inspection. Unfortunately, there are limits to how much treasure one can carry while sneaking. The crown slipped from my claws.”
Morgan gasps. “Oh no!”
“It rolled down a staircase.”
“Disaster strikes!”
“No, but the crown struck a large gong.”
Morgan frowns. “A gong?”
“It was silver, covered with gold. I prefer solid gold, myself, but it was a fine enough item. It was not for using, you understand. It was forowning.”
She nods sagely. “Obviously.”
“The entire mountain rang. Buparex awoke. He was upset.”
“You stole his king crown and played on his gong!” Morgan exclaims. “I mean, if someone did that to me, I’d besomiffed.”
I shrug. “I would have stolen much more, if he hadn’t woken up.”
Morgan starts eating her grilled meat, tearing off a piece with her teeth while watching the fire. The smell of roasted game drifts through the evening air. “Did he chase you?”
I stretch my legs out and watch a spark spiral upward. “For three mountain ranges.”
Morgan pauses halfway through another bite. Her eyebrows rise. “What happened when he caught you?”
The question draws an old memory to the surface. Snow-covered peaks. Thin air. The thunder of enormous wings beating across the sky behind me.
I snort. “When I let him catch up with me, you mean? He tried to kill me, of course.”
