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Chapter Three

Somehow, she talked her way into riding on my back. Never before had I let a human do that, and never had I imagined myself doing so. When I first surprised and disgusted myself by offering to let her stay in my home for a few days till things calmed down for her, I had only imagined that I would carry her in my paws much as I'd carried the bodies of the men I'd killed.

To her credit, when she first agreed to come with me, she assumed my home was somewhere within walking distance. It was not. Nor could it even be reached from the ground. One of the reasons I had so far succeeded and staying safe and hidden away from humanity where other dragons had failed was the fact that my home simply could not be reached without the benefit of wings. True, sooner or later truly determined humans would probably find a way to scale the sheer cliffs and treacherous, scree-covered slopes that surrounded it without falling to their deaths, but it would not be easy. It made me feel at least a little safer when I slept at night. After all, if humans found me at night while I slept, I would not be the first dragon murdered in his slumber.

I was a paranoid old lizard, but paranoia had kept me alive on more then one occasion.

So it was especially jarring to me to have offered this human a place to stay in my very own home. Why on earth had I agreed to that? What was to stop her from taking up the very sword I was bringing home with me and sticking it in my belly once I drifted off into unconsciousness? Other then the sheer drop from the cliff side ledge that would be her only way down without me to carry her, of course.

I had never before taken such a leap of faith with humanity. Well, perhaps that wasn't entirely true. Once, in my youth I had done something similar, and it had nearly brought about my own death. I shivered as I thought back to that day, my spines rising in fear. Yet this was an even bigger risk! Even If she didn't murder me in my sleep, she could reveal the location of my home...or my lair, as I imagined she'd call it, to the other humans. Armed with the knowledge of it's location, they might set about finding a way to reach it on their own.

Lair. I had never liked that term. Even if I found myself using it without realizing it now and then, it was never a term I was fond of. I lived in a home, not a lair, or a den, or a nest. The last two made me sound like nothing more then the wild animal I was sure some humans still believed I was. And lair. Lair! It made it sound as though I were the villain in some ill-wrought tale of heroics, hatching my schemes against the so-called hero. Then again, I suppose that was probably where the term got started amongst humanity.

While I was still struggling with my own decision to invite her home, she was struggling against what I imagined was an instinctual fear of my species. Touching my face was one thing, being carried around like prey was another. I first explained to her that we would not be able to walk, that it was a flight that would take several hours. And when I then told her that I would just carry her in my paws, her eyes nearly popped out of her skull and rolled away!

I was not willing to listen to her arguments on the subject, at least not at first. I'd already invited her into my home, something I imagined no dragon had ever done before. I was not about to lay upon my belly for her like some common hound, let alone allow her to climb upon my back s though I were a mere stallion. However, cunning little thing that she was, she pointed out to me from a safe distance that simply ferrying the corpses back and forth to the lake had already put a lot of strain on my arm, and worsened my wound. She rather politely yet cleverly asked me if I really wanted to put continued strain on it by carrying a living, and likely squirming human for several hours.

With a growl of frustrated resignation, I lay myself down on my belly. Already I was biting myself for agreeing to this! What was wrong with me? I was starting to think I'd already lost track of time, and my mind had slipped through my grasp as suddenly as the sands of fate slipped through the claws of my kind. But, stubborn as always, the choice was made, and I was not going to change my mind now. I had already offered her what I hoped was a ray of hope, taking it away from her now would be almost as cruel as leaving her to her earlier fate. Which, I reminded myself, I'd almost done.

She clearly had no idea how to climb unto a dragon's back. Which didn't surprise me, considered I had no idea how to let a human climb onto my back. First she tried simply jumping atop me, but couldn't quite get high enough, and bounced right off of me and landed on her rump. I laughed my tail off at that, and instinctual fear or not, she gave me enough of a glare for my laughter to die off into a throat clearing growl.

Next she tried to put her foot on my shoulder, which almost worked until her boot slipped along my scales and scraped all the way down the top of my front leg. I yelped and rolled over a little, shaking it till the sting went away, then settled back down. This time it was my turn to glare at her! I finally decided that perhaps she could reach up and grab my wing-joint, the thickly muscled area where my wing met my body, just behind my shoulder. If she could pull herself up there, then she could brace her boot against my shoulder and push herself up, without having to put all her weight on it.

She seemed to have reached the same conclusion at the same time as I did. Just as I turned my head back to tell her what to try next, she reached up, and grabbed my wing. Her fingers dug into the muscle, and I winced, but did not complain. The skin there had no scales, just above where my wing sprouted from my scaled back. Rather like if someone grabbed her upper arm a little too tightly, it hurt to have her hauling herself up by my wing-joint, but I was doing my best not to complain.

However when she started to slip and lashed out with her other hand, then caught my very sensitive ear, I couldn't help but squeal. Without realizing what she'd done, or so I hope, she finished pulling herself up by my ear, and finally threw her other leg across my back, just where my neck and shoulders met, ahead of my wings. She let go of my ear, and dusted her hands off, then smiled at me, proud of herself for overcoming her fears, and climbing atop a dangerous dragon.

"There, that wasn't so bad. Why were you making that squealing noise?"

"Why do you think!" I snapped, rubbing my ear with a paw. "You nearly tore my damn ear off! Be more careful next time!"

Before she could apologize or ask about "next time" I picked up the bag with my trophies, and leapt into the sky. The scream I wrenched from her throat as she was suddenly flattened down against my scaled back with her stomach no doubt popping out of the bottoms of her feet was at least a little bit of sweet payback for getting my poor ear wrenched so violently. Besides, I figured if she fell off at such a low altitude because I hadn't prepared her for my ascent, she'd probably be alright.

Probably.

Even before he scream stopped echoing over the forest I'd already risen above, she had leaned forward and practically sewn herself to my neck. Her arms were soon wrapped so tightly around it that they were digging into my throat a little bit. I coughed a couple of times, and glared back at her, hissing. "No so damn tight! I can't fly if I can't breath!"

"S...sorry," she said, her voice meeker then it had been since I'd met her.

I took a breath, and tried to calm myself a little. It didn't help that my heart was hammering far harder then it usually did for a simple take off. I had no idea what I was getting myself into it, and the prospect of taking a human back home was making me increasingly nervous. Her arms soon relaxed around my neck though she did not release it entirely, and I did not ask her too.

For a few minutes, I let myself relax through the rhythm of flight. The familiar tautness of my wings, air currents buffeting them and rolling across them. Sinews and wind tendons stretched in the familiar pull I cherished so much. I could not help but notice she was not as heavy as I'd expected. I could certainly feel her weight against my, and my wing muscles and the muscles along my back were beginning to burn a little earlier then usual, but I was already having less trouble ascending with her then I'd feared I might.

When I had calmed down a little bit, I twisted my head to look back at her again. The girl couldn't seem to decide if she should be terrified, or exhilarated. She still kept herself glued against my neck, and the twisting emotions were easy to see as they played across her face. All her dark brown hair was whipping around behind her, and her green eyes were wide, wet, filled with both excitement and fear. I imagined the wind must be bothering her. Which made me smirk, glad I was one of a species that had not only wings, but flight membranes for their eyes.

As I flew on, and neither of us seemed to have anything to say, I continued to look back at her now and then. Each time I did so, I could see that fear was slowly transforming to wonder. I worked to keep my flight as steady as I could, and once I was high enough, I'd stopped working my wings very much. It was an odd feeling to pump them with her resting against me, I could feel her weight and her body shifting against my upper back with each beat of my wings. To try and help her feel a little more safe up here, I glided whenever I could, giving her the smoothest flight possible.

I was eventually rewarded with a brief but satisfying look of pure awe. It came when we glided far above a wide mountain lake, the seemingly endless swirls of dark and light green pine and fir forests sliding away beneath us, just before we passed over still, clear blue water, an indigo shade deeper and darker then the sky itself. Our reflection slipped across the surface, shimmering and shaking with the tiny little waves that rolled across the water. She could see herself, peering timidly over the side of a dragon as she flew, thousands of feet above the earth. She stared at her reflection...our reflection...until we passed the other shore of the lake. Then she looked around, in every direction as far as she could see, and the look across her face was one of pure, happy wonder. It reminded me very much of the way I'd felt the first time my parents took me flying.

After a little while, she lay her head against my neck, and smiled. If only for a moment, it made me smile as well.

"We'll be there soon," I finally said, above the roar of the wind. With a look like that, I didn't want to ignore her any longer.

I still couldn't believe I was doing this. But somehow, seeing that she was so awed by the simple serene beauty of flight made me feel a little better about my decision. If she'd spent the whole flight screaming her head off or burying her face in my neck, too terrified to even take a quick glance at the ground so far below, I would have been tempted to drop her off early. And high.

Soon the vast green forests below us were rising and falling in steady waves as though the earth itself were breathing. The hills grew quickly as I soared above them and before long the dark green forests that covered them were melting away into red, brown and gray rock. Rolling hills grew into creased slopes like the back of some wrinkly old monster, and eventually into the towering twisted spires of gray rock that formed the mountains of my home.

"Hold on tightly," I told her, trying not to scare her_too_ badly. "I'm going to cut between a few mountains and the wind currents can be a little treacherous!"

Which was not much of an exaggeration. This high in the mountains the winds could be quite strong, and when they blew in certain directions they were funneled between the tall natural citadels of stone, increasing their speed. The way the wind bounced off the sheer cliffs, swirling and eddying within the valleys in unseen spirals and maelstroms could be a little dangerous even on a clear day, and even for an experienced dragon.

I swooped down a little bit lower. Climbing high enough to try and soar above summits of the white capped teeth of the earth would expose me to very thin air, and air that might be thin to a dragon might be fatal to a human. Besides, I knew the way through the many canyons and valleys that cut through the dark gray stone like I knew the scale patterns across my own snout. That was, well enough if I crossed my eyes and thought about it.

She took my advice to heart, tightening her ever present grip around my neck. This time I didn't complain about her starting to cut off my air, I didn't want her falling off my back, and I could still breath well enough, even if her fingers were digging into the softer-scaled and somewhat malleable flesh of my throat.

I headed straight for the entryway into the long, winding canyon I used to navigate my way back to my home. Two colossal snow-capped peaks formed the entryway, one on either side like white-helmed guardians, ever watchful and keeping the human hoards at bay. Each guardian peak on either side of the canyon sloped away very sharply, where a river far below had cut through the stone when even the dragons had not yet come to be born unto the earth. The river was now a fine blue ribbon down in the shadowy recesses of the narrow stone valley, two rough grey walls closed in immediately as I passed through what I had come to refer to as The Gateway.

I felt her grip tighten even more, and when I coughed a little, she relaxed it, but I could feel her body shaking just slightly against my own. "Watch out! Your wings are so close!"

Where they? Of course not. She didn't know what she was talking about. She'd just never flown that was all. I rolled my pale blue eyes, and on a whim, glanced to the side to see my right wing's tip-spine gliding scant inches from the stone wall that rose hundreds of feet above me, and fell away thousands more. I quickly looked the other way to find that if anything, my left wing tip was even closer to scraping the stone. I felt my belly twist nervously, one false move, one minor miscalculation or strong gust of wind could send either wing straight into that unyielding stone wall, shattering the bones, tearing the membranes and sending both of us plunging to our doom far below.

"Thanks a lot!" I snarled, suddenly concentrating on every single wing beat I made, worrying about exactly where my wings were.

What if I drifted too low into the canyon and the walls grew too narrow? What if I snagged my wing on that one gnarled old tree that had found a miraculous hold for it's roots in a tiny crack in the rock? What if a great quake shook the mountains as it had in times past and boulders and scree poured into the valley, burying us beneath their crushing embrace?

Damn it, why did she have to say anything! I'd flown this valley almost every day of my life for year upon year upon decade, and I'd never once worried about anything like that. In my youth I'd played games with other young dragons in this very valley! Racing through it's narrow confines to see who dared try and take the Claw's Bend turn the fastest! Or who dared to dive the deepest into the valley before their wings were torn apart by the misleadingly sloped walls. Or who would be the last to pull up after speeding straight towards the dead end silver-marked cliff at the end of Moonshade canyon. Yet, here I was, flying through the easiest, safest part of the canyon in my old age, suddenly worried all the things that had never killed me over the years.

I found myself rising just a little higher in the canyon to give my wing tips a few more inches. Winds suddenly buffeted me, rocking me back and forth a little, and I fought to keep myself steady. Never since I'd learned to fly had wind currents put me ill at ease, but now I found my stomach coiling and tightening as though in the ever-constricting grasp of a giant serpent. I told myself I was merely concerned for the passenger, who currently held my throat in her own ever-constricting grasp.

I flared my sails out to help stabilize myself, and the movement must have caught her eye because I could feel her twisting around to peer back towards my tail. I lifted my wings a little more to give her a view beneath them, along my side and down to my tail. I couldn't hold them for long, I had to keep working them to content with the swirling eddies of wind that suddenly hoisted me a few feet in the air, and then left me to lose that extra altitude just as fast. My passenger yelped in surprise and I actually felt her leave me for a moment, but thankfully she crashed back down on me again right away. Hard enough to jar my spine, so I was sure it must have made her rump ache a little.

As if to distract her from the suddenly bumpy flight, and the soaring stone walls on either side of us, she called out to me. "What are those things on your tail? They look like tiny wings."

"We call them our flight sails!" I responded over the rushing of the wind all around us, swirling her hair around her face. "They usually lay flat against the sides of the base of our tail, but they have flexible spines, like our crests, so we can flare them out when we fly for added stability and wing surface!"

Well, didn't I just sound like an elder giving anatomy lessons to the young. I was fairly sure I'd asked the same question myself as a youth. Though, given my own youthful tendencies to skip and ignore the lessons of our tiny clan, back when there was a clan that dwelled in these mountains, I probably sounded like more of a fool asking about them. No doubt the day after the other hatchlings and I had been taught about our wings and sails, I had sat down in front of my mother, tugged my tail in front of me and spread out my tiny, youthful sail with a paw, and said something as intelligent as "Mamma what's this thing?" I suppose there were worse things I could have used that exact phrase to ask about as a hatchling. Then again, given the way I remember her laughing at one instance I used that question, perhaps I had.

As we passed further into the canyon, we were left in the shade of the lofty stone walls on either side of us. Strange how something as simple and soft and gentle as water could nevertheless possess the sheer power to cut a mountain in two. The mountains I called the Gateway had once been a single peak, only for the inexorable flow of water and time to gradually slice them in half, long before the dragons ever had to worry about humanity. Much like water, humans themselves were small and relatively soft, and gentle compared to dragons. And yet they possessed the power within them to bring us from the skies, and end our otherwise relatively long lives.

At least water had it's uses. It quenched thirst, for one. It cleaned the body, for another. Regardless of what humans may say about us, dragons are creatures who place a good deal of value on cleanliness. Just because we do not feel the need to clothe our bodies or shame ourselves over our reproductive organs does not mean we are filthy, or dirty. Far from it, we bathe as often as possible, scrubbing our scales with sand or rough rocks to remove impurities. At least the dragons of my clan are this way, I suppose I cannot speak for our species throughout the ages, or the rogue dragon who may find it desirable to stain himself with the blood of his prey.

Humans, though, did not seem to have any use at all as far as I could tell. They cut and burned our forests, they killed off all our game, they stole our lands, and they hunted us into what would eventually be our extinction. Save for my current passenger, I had yet to meet a single human who was not the very monster they had always claimed me to be. Save perhaps a single human or two, nearly lost to my memory.

Eventually I was free of the canyon, after flying past several forking paths where other branches of the river once flowed freely. Some of them still did, though much like the race of the dragons their power and size was greatly diminished. Others were now dry, save for the spring months when the deepest of the winter snows melted away, the white cloak that covered the mountains retreating towards it's icy fortress atop the stone summits once more. I sometimes felt we shared a lot with the snow, and ice, where once we covered much of the world, now we were forced to spend our lives in only the coldest and most inhospitable places, where humans could not easily reach us. Though unlike the snow I doubted we would ever return to spread our influence again.

I dipped my left wing and turned into a wider flatter valley, where a beautiful sunbathed meadow spread out at the feet of several of the peeks. I had lived in those lands all my life, and as a youth the meadow was the gathering place for all the local dragons. If my friends and relatives had not been daring each other into stunts that threatened to make our small community even smaller, we would be learning to hunt the other inhabitants of the valley. Mountain sheep that could scale the rugged mountains all around far easier then I could came down to drink from the myriad deep blue ponds and crystal clear streams that flowed through the meadow. Large birds nested in the groves of fir and aspen trees, the valley's bottom just low enough to support more then mere evergreens. Colonies of rabbits and small rodents filled the meadow, and I could remember many times in my youth competing with my friends and cousins to see who could catch the most rodents in one afternoon. The first time we were punished for killing prey we did not intend to eat. I had already mentioned that our scales are surprisingly good at transferring sensation, and I assure you that my mother used that to full affect upon swatting my haunches when she caught me flinging around dead rabbits for fun, with no intention of eating them. When I could properly sit down again, we made sure that anything killed in our hunting games would be given to other dragons, to help feed the hatchlings who were not yet ready to hunt on their own.

Those youthful days I spent in the meadow, and in the many valleys that cut through our mountains were as close as I ever came to the glorious tales I'd been told about dragons. There were never quite enough of us left here to truly fill the skies with our myriad colors, but even a dozen dragons circling and diving in the skies all at once seemed like a truly incredible sight back then. Especially with another dozen of us romping and playing through the meadows below. I never knew exactly how many of us there where when I'd first hatched. I never tried to count, and no one had ever told me. I sometimes wonder if the number was simply so low compared to ages past that it was too depressing to count. And I do know that despite the laying of several eggs and the subsequent birth of those hatchlings throughout my own life, our dwindling clan gradually diminished, and there were never again as many dragons here as there had been the day I myself had hatched.

Now, there was only me.

The rest of my beautiful clan, and perhaps the last of my species had all long since departed. Many were slain by humanity for daring to venture too far away from the sanctity of our mountain home, seeking game in warmer places when the coldest days stretched deeper into the valley then usual, depleting our already low stocks of prey. Even if we never saw them taken from us, we knew that when they left to seek food for their young, there was a chance they would never return. More then once that happened as I grew, and it always fell upon another to take up care for the orphaned younglings. Others fell when soldiers and slayers of dragons found ways into the mountains. Though they had never found our beautiful valley, they came close. Close enough to slaughter some of the young at play, including a friend of mine. Those particular men never left our mountains, but the pain of our loss was no less harder to bare with their own blood spelled.

Back then, we knew they'd been looking for us. There were enough of us gathered, and enough of us that occasionally left the mountains to draw human attention. All my life the humans had been creeping ever closer to the lands that had always belonged to my kind, and the more of us they saw, the more they sought to hunt us down, and wipe us out. The dragon slayers who nearly reached out meadow had been there for a purpose, and we all knew what that purpose was.

Those of us who were still alive gradually began to leave. To head further west, deeper into the mountains. A rumor spread by a dragon who'd ventured away in my youth and returned unexpectedly in my adolescence said that there was a safe haven, far, far from here. A place dragons had been gathering for years, that was so far from the humans it would take them generations to reach it. Some of us believed in this rumor, desperately grasping at some mythical straw of hope that we might yet have a chance in this world. A place that even the dragon slayers could not find us. I could not blame them for leaving our lands. Even I knew that it was only a matter of time until they tracked us down to this once holy place, and slew the last of us. I have no idea if those dragons found their safety or not, but I sincerely hope they did.

There are days I wished my stubborn pride would have allowed me to go with them. Days I wish I had not so foolishly pushed her out of my life. Like an egoistical adolescent, I thought I knew what was best, and like a stubborn old elder I refused to give in, even when I realized upon which path it was leading me. I simply and steadfastly refused to yield this land to humans, to let them push us from our last stronghold. I was raised here, I had my first mating in this valley, I fell in love atop the cliffs that overlooked it, and I fathered my children in the cavern I still called my home. This land had always been in my blood, in the hands of dragons, and so it would stay until age or steel finally took it from me.

"It's beautiful here!"

Her voice shook me from my dark reverie, and I turned my head once more to glance at my strange passenger. So now a human really had penetrated our valley, a human borne on the back of a dragon of all things! I supposed that if the strange trust I found myself putting in her was as misplaced as I feared it might be, it was too late for her to do any real damage. Let her lead her kind here to claim this last sanctuary of my kind. I was there only one left, there was only one life to take, and I would die happy if I died in defense of the only home I'd ever had.

"Yes," I said, just above the wind rushing past my ears. "It's beautiful."

I circled slowly around the wide valley to give her a good look. Without either of us noticing, the flight had smoothed out again, the winds had calmed, and I'd reverted back to instinctual flying without worrying about my every moment. While my rider, and I was shocked to hear myself think of her as such, peered back and forth, I did the same.

The valley itself was very long, and roughly oval shaped. The mountains that ringed it eventually came back together near each end, though at the eastern end they were not nearly as tall, or treacherous as they were in other parts of the valley. If the humans did come, and I knew they eventually would, that was probably the route they'd take. A long ribbon of sapphire wound and curved back and forth through roughly the center of the valley, the deepest of the many streams that wove through the blanket of soft green that covered the meadow's floor. Indigo and sky blue shapes dotted the velvet green ground as well, ponds and small lakes with surprising depth and clarity. Small hills rose and fell seemingly at random. Trees lined the streams in some places, clustered in groves in others, and thorn and bramble bushes ran wind, spiky green leaves covering hidden caches of red and black berries. Even late in the season, the soft green of the meadow was painted in many places by swatches of wildflowers, swirls and speckles of blue, red, yellow and purple. A small group of antelope spooked as I flew over head, bolting off in different directions, and I had to resist the urge to swoop down and snatch up the slowest member.

Hunting with a passenger was probably not a wise idea.

Finally, I began to wing my way towards my home. The mountains that surrounded the valley were riddled with caverns and caves and tunnels and chambers. Many of them were naturally formed caverns, many more were carved ages ago by our ancestors, dragons who dwelled here long before even my elders had been conceived. Though this place had come to be a last refuge for us for several generations, there had once been a far larger dragon settlement. In truth, I thought this place had once been carved out as nothing more then a place for storage. Or perhaps, exiles, or prisoners. Or perhaps even a place for dragons who dwelled far away to come and stay for a few days. Whatever it had once been, it was my home now.

The entrance to my home was my last line of defense, to so speak. A sheer granite cliff rose many, many wing spans above the valley floor, and at it's bottom a slope nearly as steep comprised of crumbled rock that had fallen from the cliff and its jagged ledges over many years. There were also a good number of bones at the bottom of the cliff these days, as I'd gotten lazy in my old age and often simply tossed the remains of my prey from the ledge that marked the entrance to my home high above.

The ledge itself jutted out into the air from the sheer face of the cliff like an outstretched paw welcoming me home. The edges and surface of the ledge were marked by lines upon lines upon lines, scratched scarred into the stone by the claws of many dragons over several generations of hiding ourselves from the rest of the world. I felt my passengers' grip tighten around my neck as I shifted my wings, rising high enough to crest the ledge and then gently gliding down to it. I touched down on my hind paws first, then when my front paws came down I trotted to an easy stop.

More then ready to relinquish my passenger, I lowered myself back down to my belly. "Here we are," I said as she hopped down with much more ease then she'd gotten atop me with. "This is my lair."

Damn! There was that word again. Lair. I cursed myself inwardly for letting it cross my tongue aloud, let alone to a human. I folded my ears back, grumbling under my breath as I rose back to my feet. It as a home, a home! Not a damn lair.

She smiled at me, and then tiptoed to the edge of the claw-marked ledge. She crouched down to rub her hand over some of the scars in the rock, perhaps wondering just how long dragons had been using this place. I rather doubted that we'd taken to hiding in caves before our downfall began, but that would still place at least three generations of dragons at this sight, and the many other caverns and tunnels that pockmarked the mountains surrounding the valley.

When she rose, she gazed out over the massive valley sprawling below. I couldn't tell if she was taking in it's beauty, or worrying about how to get back down from the ledge after she'd killed me in my sleep. I hoped that if it was indeed the latter, it was also the former. After all it was a sight that as far as I knew, no human had ever seen before. The sun was just starting to set, seemingly perched atop the mountains and bathing everything in a fiery orange radiance that would soon melt away into cool purples and blues as night began to paint the world in strokes of lavender, and eventually shadow. For now though, everything glowed with the beauty of daylights last brilliant glories. The lakes especially seemed to shine like pools of fire as the pre-sunset light struck them for the last time until the sun returned again from the other side of the world.

"It's beautiful," she whispered to no one in particular. That was the second time I'd heard her say that, and the second time it made me smile.

"Yes, it is. Come along inside when you're ready, it gets very cold up here after dark. And mind the winds."

I began to head for the yawning black chasm in the rock that marked the entrance to my home. For the first time, I realized it must seem rather intimidating from the outside. The gaping mouth of a dragon's lair, jutting rock protusions like the teeth of the very beast that dwelled within in, the tunnel it lead too twisting away and sloping down into darkness. Or so it seemed from the outside.

When a gust of cold wind blew across the ledge, I shivered, my scales rattling. I knew as cold as it felt against my wing membranes, it must have been that cold across her entire body. So I was not surprised when she hurried to catch up with me, wrapping her arms about herself. She paused at the entrance, hesitantly peering inside.

"I...I can't see in the dark," she said, as though she thought that should surprise me.

"Neither can I," I assured her, chuckling to myself. "Come along. And grab that bag would you?"

Truth was, I could probably see better in just about any condition then she could. Dragons have very sharp senses, particularly sight, hearing, and smell. I have no idea if our sense of taste is any stronger then that of a human, and I imagine our sense of touch is roughly the same. But we see very well even in low light, and from very high altitudes. Our ears are quite keen, and our noses rival those of wolves and their more foolishly obedient brethren humanity has added to their conquests. But we still could not see in pitch blackness, and thankfully, my lair...my home was not completely dark.

I sauntered into the entrance to my cavern, rustling my black wings and then folding them neatly against my back. The tunnel here was wide enough for me to spread them if I must, but no sense in showing off. And it narrowed significantly one I followed the turn it soon took. It began to slope away, deeper into the mountain. Parts of my home were naturally occurring, and other parts had long since been carved by dragons to help connect them. The entry tunnel for example, was carved mostly smooth on all sides, cut long ago by dragon claws and tools, and was more then large enough for two of us to walk side by side.

She followed me very hesitantly at first, picking up my bag of trophies and clutching it to her as if it would protect her from whatever unseen monsters even more frightening them myself might lurk inside that shadowy confine. She took only a few small steps at a time until she'd come to realize that I had not been lying about seeing in the dark. Shortly after the tunnel turned and sloped away from the entrance, the area was bathed in a faint, but pleasant blue-white light. I knew when she first saw it, she was puzzled, and she picked up her pace to see what was casting light around the tunnel. She walked up alongside me, and peered up the wall to the small sepulchered recess where a large, multifaceted crystal had been placed. The crystal itself shed the gentle blue white glow, just enough to illuminate the tunnel for quite a ways in either direction.

"What is that?" She reached up to put her hand near it, as if expecting to feel heat radiating from it.

"I've no idea," I admitted, flaring my crests a little in amusement, and flicking the tip of my tail. I reached up and plucked the large crystal from it's little recess in the wall and held it out to her. As she gently touched it's pointed tip, then ran her fingers down one of the smooth sides, I explained. "We just call them light stones, or light crystals. There are many varieties, and they have always been used by dragons as far as I can remember. I think they're a relic from when our species ruled over the world."

She twisted around a little to smirk at me, arching a brow. "Since when did dragons rule the world?"

"Since long before my time, sadly." I grunted and set the crystal back. "The point is, my clan used things like this to light our homes. I gathered some from other empty homes around the valley, and I took more from the ruins deeper in the peaks. And I stole some from humans who were also using them." I grinned, baring my fangs. I was particularly proud of that last bit. "I've put them all throughout my home, now."

I padded down the tunnel a little further. After a moment, she caught up to me, and began to walk along at my side. Something I'd said had caught her attention, and it wasn't the part about stealing from humans like I would have expected.

"You have a clan?"

Her question caught me off guard. My steps faltered, and I must have cringed because she immediately apologized. I folded my ears back, crests limp against my skull. After a moment I shook my head, and started walking again. "No, I do not. Not for many years. When I was young, I had a clan, and we all lived here, in this area. But that was a long time ago."

She started walking after me again, chewing on her lip. "So...how many are left here? Up in these mountains."

"Just the grumpy old lizard walking alongside you."

"Oh..." She cast her gaze down to her feet. "I'm sorry."

From any other human I would have expected such words to be patronizing. They would have angered me, I did not want some humans pity and I certainly did not want to be patronized. But for some reason, when she told me she was sorry I was the only one left, I knew that she meant it. Though she may have hated and feared the others of my race, she did not hate me. And much as I believed her when she'd said that earlier, I believed her now.

I twisted my horned head around to smile at her, nodding once. "Thank you."

She smiled up at me, and before either of us could think better of it, she rubbed my nose, near my nostrils. I let her pet me for a moment, unbidden this time, and then with a growl I cleared my throat, and continued leading her down the tunnel, trying to hide the grin that was threatening to separate the top of my head from my neck.

My smile faded when cold water dripped onto my snout and dragged me back into reality. I hissed in surprise, and shook my head, quickly moving forward away from the dribbling water, only to put one of my front feet right down into cold, slimy muck. I grumbled to myself, I'd totally forgotten about that little feature of living inside a mountain. My hiss had startled her, and I glanced back to see her watching me with wide eyes, perhaps thinking she'd done wrong by touching my nose without asking that time.

I lifted my front paw and shook it to get rid of as much as the green mess as possible, then wiped my paw off on the stone wall. "Mind the slime," I muttered.

She giggled a little bit at that, and carefully made her way back over to me. Much as I enjoyed being so well hidden from the humans and the fact that being in a deep keep kept me sheltered from the worst of both the summer heat and winter cold, as well as the storms and snows of each, I hated the dampness that accompanied that shelter. Not all of my home was like that, but in many places water trickled from cracks in the rock, or down stalactites. It oozed down the walls, and puddled on the floors. And where the light stones were it always seemed there was just enough light to encourage algae and moss and slime and less savory things to grow. There was little I could do about it, if I worked to try and seal up one dribbling leak another soon sprung up in it's place. It was enough to make me wish dragons were amphibious!

"It's just a little slime," she said as though trying to make me feel better about it. She daintily stepped over one patch of the nasty stuff, only to have her boot slip in the next. She nearly fell over into it, but I reacted quickly and caught her by the arm, held her until she caught her balance. "Thanks," she smiled, patting my paw before I let go.

I almost wished I hadn't helped her. I had to admit, it would have been damn funny to see her fall right on her ass. If only because the same thing had happened to me more times then I cared to admit. Luckily most of the times I'd been alone, but at least once my former mate had been there to laugh at me as I cracked the scales on my rump when both my hind paws slipped forward at the same time. At least they'd both slipped forward and not out to each side.

I did my best to point out all the little hazard areas like that for the rest of the way. I was rewarded by getting a few more cold drops of water right on my nose, and one directly into my eye which made me yelp little a little hatchling getting his ear yanked on. She couldn't help but laugh at me that time, and I supposed I couldn't blame her, so I refrained from biting her head off. This time.

Finally, we rounded the last bend, and entered my home proper. The largest chamber in my home was the one I spent most of my time in, it was where I relaxed, where I slept, and where I kept most of my cherished possessions, and some of my collection. It was also in one hell of a mess, as I only now realized upon bringing someone else here for the first time since...well, since I last saw her.

Hmm. I had been longer then I thought. Odd how bringing someone else here, even a human, could remind me so much of her, and of how much I missed her. It was also odd how it took someone else, even a human, to remind me just how messy and unkempt my home had become. Oh well, what did I care if some human thought I was a slob, or not. I was a messy old lizard, and I didn't care.

I paused in the entry to my sleeping chamber, and let her walk in first. She went a few steps inside, and then paused to look around. Though I had no way of knowing, I got the feeling from the way she slowly turned to gaze at everything that it was not at all the way she expect a dragon's so-called lair to be. Perhaps she expected piles upon piles of coins and jewels and long lost treasures to take up most of the space, and the bones of my enemies to take up whatever was left. Or maybe she thought she was going to find an entire harem of princesses and maidens chained to the wall, awaiting my every command and pleasure.

Come to think of it, that last one didn't sound so bad.

In reality, my home had none of those things. True, there were a few coins, and a few bones, but they were only a small percentage of my possessions and personal treasures. The chamber itself was very large, and despite the amount of things randomly strewn about I still had plenty of room left. I could run from one end of the cavern to the other, and not only reach my full speed but sustain it for a little while before I'd have to slow down to avoid crashing into the far walls. I suppose the chamber itself was once roughly circular, but I'd filled it with so many things over the years it was hard to say with any certainty now.

It was a combination of a vast, natural cavern that ancient dragons discovered deep inside the mountain, and draconic delving and carving. The floor, like the floor in every chamber and tunnel, had long ago been smoothed out, the walls as well. Though some of stalactites that hung in recessed places from the high ceiling were still there, a few of them dripping mineral laden water, building and growing by tiny amounts each and every year. When my children were still with me, they had marked yearly growth rates on the stalactites to see how far they'd grow, just as my hatchlings had marked their own growth in another chamber. The floor and walls were mostly white and gray granite, flecked with black, and in a few places ribbons of gold. There was some limestone mixed in as well, such as many of the stalactites. Bumpy golden brown limestone pillars hanging from the ceiling, and in at least one corner of the room, growing up from the ground as well, paler gray stalactites struggling to reach their higher cousins.

At one side of the room was my bed, though to a human it may not have resembled such. Rather then a wooden frame or any frame at all, my bed was simply an immense pile of animal furs, soft and warm. They came from a variety of animals, deer and elk, mountain sheep, arctic foxes and wolves, and the variety of colors from soft tawny brown to gray and black to snow white attested to that. Some of them I had tanned myself, some of them originally belonged to other dragons, and still more I'd stolen from humans over the years. Mixed in with the furs and hides were a few human blankets and pillows, more acquisitions from my younger and bolder days. But using tanned animal hides and furs as both blankets and pillows was a common enough practice among dragons. Game had become scarce for us, so there was no reason for us not to use as much of the animals as we could. Besides, a bed of furs was very comfortable, and had served me well throughout my life.

Directly across the room from the pile of furs which had lately taken on an increasingly messy and sprawling life of its own were my books. I imagine that to be another thing that surprised her, and as if just to prove me right, that was one of the first places she ventured towards. I often imagined that humans would be shocked that not only might a dragon want to possess a great deal of books, but that he actually enjoyed reading them! Hell, they'd probably be surprised just to learn a dragon could read them. I also thought that humans would likely be quite taken aback to realize that at least half of my rather extensive collection of books were actually written by dragons. Even without opening them, they were easy enough to distinguish. The books written by dragons were all much larger then any written by man, sized for our larger paws and somewhat less delicate fingers. Bound in thick leather or hide, with thicker, sturdier parchment for durability. I was very proud of my collection of draconic tomes, remnants of our old culture were rare when I'd been hatched, and had only become more and more scarce since then. I had collected them over my life, first from other dragons through barter and trade, and then by searching what they'd left behind, or digging through the rare preserved parts of ruins. In one lucky instance, even by raiding a humans' wagon full of antiquities that happened to include several dragon scribed books. Most of my human penned tomes had come that way, through the raids I used to conduct in my younger days.

I kept the books on sturdy wooden shelves I'd built myself many years ago. As full as the shelves were now, I was going to have to break down and build some more one of the days. Already there were more books then I had shelf space, and some of the lesser human books had started to pile up on the floor. The shelves were not especially hard to build, but they required a lot more effort then I really felt like putting into them these days. I had built the old ones from sturdy pine trees I'd felled myself, stripped the bark from, and carefully cut into beams and slabs of lumber. I'd notched them and fit them all together myself, basically using trial and error. As a result, the shelves were hardly even and none of the bookshelves matched each other, but they were sturdy and did their job, and I was proud of them.

On either side of them were more shelves, and more yet again. Some of those I'd also made, others I took from dragons who left them behind. These contained many of my trophies, or items that were of great sentimental value to me. The skull and antlers of the first deer I ever killed all by myself sat proudly atop one of my shelves. A pawful of pale blue and silver flecked scales from the first female I'd ever mated with. A beautiful cluster of black quartz crystals I'd found as hatchling, and kept to this day. Pieces of shell from the eggs of my children, and scales they'd shed as they grew, scales from my mate as well. The heavy stone head from a shattered dragon statue in the far flung ruins. Carved in perfect detail out of stark white marble with gold ribbons, I'd found it laying on the ground, where the rest of the statue had crumbled away. Somehow the head remained totally intact and I lugged it all the way home, where it now sat testing the strength of my shelves on a moment to moment basis. Swords, axes and arrows that had drawn my blood, and dented, battered old bits of armor that had failed to protect the wearer from my retaliation.

And near the armor, sitting in the open on a shelf, where the skulls of several men. I'd forgotten about those, and before I could cover them up, my guest spotted them, and gave a horrified gasp. I ambled over to her, peering down at the skulls. I felt a little guilty about displaying them like that in front of her, but I'd never expected a human to come here. What I did not feel guilty about, however, was killing those men.

"Dragon slayers," I explained to her, speaking softly as her wide eyed green gaze remained locked on the skull. "They..." I wasn't sure I really wanted to explain, but I didn't want her to think I was merely some human killing monster, either. "They almost took my son from me."

"Oh...Oh!" Understanding slowly began to dawn on her, and she finally turned away from the skulls to look up at me. "But...they...they didn't?"

"No," I shook my head, a small smile spread over my muzzle. Though it did not last for long. Saving him was a wonderful memory, but it was a terrible ordeal. And it lead me to where I was today, to the fights I had with her, to the guilt I felt, to the pain I probably could have saved myself from if only I'd not been so stubbornly proud of my own people. "No, I found him just in time. We...we weren't sure if he'd be able to fly again, though. He...they'd...well...the important thing is that I saved his life."

She must have sensed the pain in my voice, because as I turned away from my trophies, she put her hand gently on my side, just beneath my wing. She didn't say she was sorry this time, but she didn't have too. Her touch said it for her. I looked back at her with a brief, thankful smile. I thought she was going to ask me where my family was now, or if they were still alive. I could almost see the question forming on her lips, and I think she realized I didn't want to look at that. She swallowed the question back down, and I could see the lump moving in her throat. I wished I could swallow the lump building in my own.

I picked up a loose animal fur, and turned back around, then carefully draped it over the three human skulls adorning my shelves. "There, I'll leave that across them while you're here."

She smiled in thanks, but shook her head. "You didn't have to do that. I was just surprised, that's all."

Somehow, despite her denial, I imagined she would be far more comfortable without feeling as though human skulls were staring at her all the time. I knew if I was in a human's home, assuming I could fit my fat scaly ass in, I would feel very awkward to find just one dragon skull staring back at me, let alone three. Though, I remembered how odd I thought it had been that she didn't seem near as put off by the bodies of the men I'd killed as I would have expected. Perhaps it was just because they'd nearly done something horrible to her, or perhaps it was more then that. Whatever the case, she seemed as interested in talking about that as I was about my former family.

She was still staring at me, and I was starting to get a little uncomfortable. I licked my muzzle, flaring my crests a bit, and managed an awkward smile. At least, I hoped it was awkward, a display of a dragon's fangs might well have been frightening for her! "You keep staring at me..."

She laughed, her cheeks flushing darker, the red tint appeared almost lavender in the soft blue light of the light stones that lit my chamber. "I'm sorry. You're just...not at all what I expected from a dragon."

I snorted in disdain, and eased myself back onto my haunches. I coiled my long, black tipped tail around my feet as I settled. The stone beneath me was cool, it felt nice against my paw pads, and honestly, against the parts of me she'd kicked. I was silent for a little while, and her eyes wandered over my belly, down my underbelly. I could see them lingering on the gray tones that now marked my belly, my chest, even my hind paws and the underside of my tail. In my youth, every scale on my body had been glossy black and resplendent in it's obsidian brilliance. Now, the older I got, the more creamy slate gray was slowly creeping up on me. It started along my chin, my throat, the tips of my ears and tail. But it had ever so slowly been making it's way across my underbelly, and the tips of my wings. I could tell her eyes were flicking to those gray areas, and I knew she was wondering just how old I was.

In truth, I didn't know. I'd stopped counting the years when I got tired of realizing how old I was getting. All that really mattered to me was that while I was getting old, I was still strong, and healthy. And by the standards of my kind, assuming the worst didn't happen I still had plenty of years left to live, and plenty of years to remain strong and healthy. We lived longer then humans did, at least when we were not sent by them to an early death. Our bodies were strong. We healed swiftly, we rarely got ill, and we remained at our prime well into late adulthood. I did not yet think I could be truly classified as an elder, but I was certainly well into the middle of adulthood, at the very least.

"And what did you expect from a dragon?" I finally asked. "A monster?"

"Yes," she replied. While I was not surprised by her answer, I was pleased with the honesty of it. I'd have known if she was lying, and I would not have appreciated it. "Something like that. But, you're not that at all. You're more then a monster."

More then a monster. I smiled to myself. I rather liked the sound of that. "Thank you. Coming from a human, I shall take that as a compliment."

She smiled, and ran her hands back through her dark brown hair. She winced as her fingers caught in it, the long flight here had left it knotted and messy. Though it hung past her shoulders, now somehow it stood on end in nearly all directions like a frightened animal, and I had no idea how she was going to tame that beast. She tugged at it a little bit, and when she freed her fingers, she tried to smooth it back down. It instantly sprang right back up, looking angrier and more unruly then ever.

Try as I might not too, I soon found myself starting to laugh. It went from a growling and hissing snicker that she might have easily misunderstood, to a much more rumbling, belly aching sort of laughter that even a human had to pick up on. She glared at me for a moment, and stamped her foot as though imitating a child in tantrum. She told me it wasn't funny, but when I pointed her towards an old, gold framed looking glass, she couldn't help but laugh along with me. She returned to me, and finally gave up, folding her arms beneath her rather dingy blue dress.

It was a very strange feeling for me, laughing like that with a human. It felt good, don't get me wrong. It had been ages since I'd laughed like that, and in a way, I was happy to see myself doing so. The fact that it was a human laughing along with me made me even happier, and slightly nervous. I wasn't really sure I wanted to be friends with a human, especially one I had every intention of kicking out of my home as soon as thought it was safer for her to return to her own world.

Hell, I hadn't even asked her name. I wasn't planning too, either. Nor had she asked mine, and I was perfectly happy with that. So long as she didn't keep calling me "Dragon" all the time.

She, of course, had other ideas. "What's your name? I mean...you...you do have a name, right? Dragons have names? You can talk so, I'm sure you must, but you didn't tell me, and I didn't want to offend...and...now I'm rambling."

Her little rant made me smile. She was probably still nervous about me. More then a monster or not, I was a dragon, and I doubted any single human wanted to make a dragon angry! "Yes, dragons have names. Mine is Vraalasothinox."

Her jaw dropped. "It's...what?!" A smile slowly crept across her lips like the sun gradually piercing its way through the thick gray clouds. "There's no way in hell I can say that. Vral..."

"Vraal," I corrected, emphasizing the longer sound. I imagined it was an odd sound for a human to make.

"Vraal," she tried again, getting it right proving me at least particularly wrong.

"Yes," I said, smiling a little, raising my spines. "That will do just fine."

"Good!" She rubbed her hands together, laughing a little more. "Cause that's as close as I'm gonna get. Do you want to know my name?"

"Do you want me to just call you human?"

"I'd rather not. My name's Kylah."

"Kylah," I repeated, wanting to make sure I got it right.

"Yes! That's it exactly." She slowly lifted her hand and held it out to me. "Considering what you've done for me, it's been very nice to meet you, Vraal."

I stared at her hand, unsure what she was doing. "Considering you are the first human I have met who hasn't tried to kill me..." I smirked. "Oh wait, yes you did. Well, considering you are the first human to give up trying to kill me before I had to kill you, it has been nice to meet you, as well."

She laughed a little at that, and then glanced down at my front paws. "Um, you lift your hand...foot...paw...thing."

"I do?" I was confused. "When?"

"Now."

"Why?"

"It's what humans do to greet each other."

"They lift their feet?"

She started laughing all over again, and despite the fact I had no idea what was going on, I laughed with her as she tried to explain. "They shake hands, or they clasp forearms or elbows. It's a greeting ritual among humans."

I tilted my head to the side a little. "If it's something humans do, I don't want to do it."

She huffed a little sigh, and folded her arms again. "Well how do dragons greet each other?"

I lowered my broad head and pressed my muzzle against her nose, then sniffed sharply a few times. She smelled surprisingly sweet, with very little of the sour, stale smell I often associated with humans. Rather she smelled a little like flowers, and fruit, and exotic spices. It was very odd, yet pleasant, and before I could really think about it, she pushed my muzzle away with a hand, and laughed.

"What are you doing?"

"Greeting you."

"Fine." She gave me an odd look, a smile twisting at only half her mouth while she arched a brow. "You smelled me like a wild animal, now shake my hand."

"Oh, very well." I glared at her as she lifted her hand once more, but this time I did as she asked. I lifted my front paw and reached out to take her hand, and as gently as it could, clasped it within my grasp. Her skin was somehow even softer and warmer then the tender, sensitive skin along my paw pads. "Like this?"

"Close enough," she said through a smile. She put her own hand on my fore leg, near my elbow, and then rather forcefully raised and lowered my arm a few times. She stopped and I kept my grip, unsure what to do next until she said, "You can let go now."

"Oh." I released her hand, then sniffed at my paw before I set it back down.

"Now we've officially met." She turned her hand back and forth a few times as if examining it for claw marks or parasites I might have transferred to her.

"If you say so." After a moment of watching her examine her hand, I added, "I don't have scale mites anymore you know."

As I'd hoped, she quickly scrunched up her face in distaste and wiped her hand off on her bloodied blue dress. "That's good..."

I couldn't help but laugh as she cast her eyes towards my sprawled bed of furs. Now she probably thought it was infested with mites! Which should make for an amusing night after I gave her a few of the furs to find herself a place to sleep. They weren't, of course, and while scale mites were a real enough parasite, they only infested rather unhygienic dragons who didn't bathe as often as I did, or hatchlings who rebelliously resisted their parent's instructions not to go crawling through the dankest underbrush and digging through the slimiest rotting logs they could find.

"Um," She said, making an odd little noise and rubbing at her throat. "Where do I go when...you know..."

I shook my horned head, twisting an ear to the side. "No, I don't."

She folded her arms as though expecting that I could read her mind. Another ridiculous rumor I'd heard humans created about us. We were hardly demons, nor were we some grand magic beast. We were merely flesh and blood, like you. We just happened to have a lot more flesh and blood then humans did.

"When I have to relieve myself," she finally came out and said.

"Oh. You can go squat over the ledge, if you like..."

"What?" Her emerald eyes went wide, glowing ethereally in the ghostly blue light. I knew she had a sudden image of herself hiking up that dress, squatting over the ledge...and then toppling off it, plunging to a rather ignominious demise. Her expression made me laugh, and I rustled my wings against my scales in amusement, a few of my neck spines standing up. This was entirely too much fun. I should have brought a human back to tease ages ago.

"I'm only joking. Come along, I'll give you the tour, as it were."

Ignoring her narrow-eyed glare, I rose back to my feet, and turned away from her. This time I forgot to keep track of where my tail was, and she barely avoided getting knocked aside by it. Quick reflexes allowed her to duck beneath it, and as she came up alongside my uninjured leg, she punched me in the shoulder as if we'd been friends for ages. "Mind your tail," she said, a little cross.

"Mind where you stand," I replied. "And stop hitting me."

"I'll hit you somewhere it really hurts again next time you whack me with that thing."

I glared at her a moment, flaring out my crests. "Do that to me again and I'll eat you in your sleep," I said, only half joking.

She glared right back at me, seemingly unafraid and unimpressed by my threat. I had to admit, I liked her spirit. I imagined most humans left alone and unarmed with a dragon would have been quaking in their boots to hear such a threat. Just like I imagined most humans would have been too afraid to offer to help me earlier, whereas she had immediately done all she could to overcome that instinctual fear and bandage up my leg.

"Just don't hit me with your tail," she finally said, then put her hand on my shoulder, rubbing the scales where she'd punched me.

"I'll do my best," I replied with a soft laugh. "Now, come along."

From my main chamber, several other tunnels lead to other rooms, most of which were interconnected by smaller tunnels just big enough for an adult dragon to squeeze through. One by one, I lead her to each room, and explained it's purpose if it had one. The room I kept my food in she referred to as my pantry, I word I was not familiar with, though I filed it away to remember for later. It was probably not as well stocked as it should have been, but it had a decent amount of food in it. Mostly deer and elk carcasses I was aging inside the cool stone room, a process she seemed to find quite unpleasant. It wasn't that I didn't prefer fresh meat, I certainly did! But there was something to be said for the process of aging, especially on days it was pouring down outside. I was not one to fly in a thunderstorm, I valued my life a little too much to risk that. I also had a good store of dried and preserved meats from various animals and fish, as well as a decent supply of travel rations I'd stolen from humans in the past. Hard tack and biscuits and things they carried with them that did not spoil easily. Then again, according to Kylah, the room smelled as though the meat had already spoiled, and she did not wish to hear my explanations that the better cuts were deeper inside, anyway.

Then again, the rather large beetle I saw drop out of an open wound in one of the elk carcasses told me that perhaps it was time I clean out the room and start over. I didn't want to develop an insect infestation, and I may have been aging some of the meat just a little too long. Ah well, no matter. While dragons prefer fresh meat or delicately aged flavors, we can eat carrion if we absolutely must. In the days since humanity began to drive us from the world, we've been forced to resort to such unpleasant practices far more often then we ever did before.

I lead her on through the rest of the rooms, moving next to the chamber where I housed some of my various collections. Here was where I kept most of my coins. I had no vast mountain of treasure as humans for some reason believe we dragons keep, but I had a decent collection of coins from all parts of the world. Gold, silver, bronze, copper, iron, and other alloys I couldn't identify. Coins with holes in the middle, coins shaped like stars, coins with kings and castles and in the case of my favorite coins, a dragon on both sides. And not even a dead dragon! I couldn't remember where I'd taken that one from, but I quite liked it.

The room also held a number of other things I collected, such as more weapons that had been used against me. Beautiful artworks I'd happened upon over the course of my life, from a painting of a lone dragon standing atop a mountain, to a human tapestry depicting a beautiful river beneath a full moon.

Connected to that chamber was my collection of drink. In my younger days of angrily raiding any human goods being shipped through what I still considered dragon terrain, I'd come across a great deal of things. I'd also discovered that humans must have really enjoyed their drink. It seemed almost every other wagon, caravan, or carriage I toppled over had a shipment of drink inside it. Ales, meads, wines, rum, and other harsh spirits I couldn't begin to identify. Whenever possible, I took them all home with me. Some of what I now had in my collection had been here for years, sealed in its original cask or bottle, and some of it was long since vanished down my gullet and subsequently returned to the water table.

"Is this all liquor?" Kylah walked into the room, picking up a bottle with a label in some strange foreign script. Red liquid sloshed around inside the carefully forged brown glass, the cork still firmly in place with a little wire cage to help it stay that way. "I didn't think dragons...well...drank!"

"Of course we drink. If we didn't drink water, we'd die."

She shot me a sidelong glance that was half obscured by her frizzy hair. "I don't mean water. I mean this stuff. Spirits, wine, ale, whatever."

"Oh. Not on the level your kind seem to. Though I suppose if we had the means to do it, we would. Back when my clan was still here, each year we would have a festival when spring came and the snows melted. And we would celebrate by drinking Kralgoor. Which is a very potent, very sweet drink we made in the fall and let ferment all winter. Basically in the fall we'd have our other celebration. One right before winter, and one right after. In the fall, we'd all go and hunt our favorite prey, and roam the meadow and as far beyond it as we dared for all the fruits and berries we could pick. Then we brought them back here and mashed them all up and mixed them with the blood of all the different prey animals. The elders put it all into big stone vats, and stored it away, and by spring it was very potent, and very delicious."

She set the bottle back down, and picked up a small stone jar. "Is this..."

"There might be some in there. I have some around somewhere." I pushed my way past her, and delicately worked my way around the myriad bottles and barrels and casks, and the shelves with more flasks and vials and jars, very careful where I put each of my paws and to keep track of the location of my tail. "Here we are." I tapped a large oak barrel with a paw. Draconic script scrawled in red marked it as Kralgoor and dated it, though for the life of me I had no idea just how old it was any more. I'd stopped marking the passing of the years ages ago. "This barrel is full of it, and it's quite aged now. It's probably either better then ever, or it will make you vomit. Profusely."

Kylah set her jar back atop the old iron-banded wooden barrel she'd plucked it from, shaking her head. "No thank you. You said it had blood in it? That sounds disgusting."

"Humans never did appreciate the qualities of fine blood." I had no idea what was wrong with them! "It's very sweet with all the berries, anyway. Everyone loved it."

For a moment, my mind drifted. Filled with images of my younger, happier days, when our tiny clan still seemed to large to my youthful mind, when it seemed like we'd be together for all of time. When it still seemed liked somewhere, the world most be filled with dragons. I remembered those celebration nights with my friends, how I waited every year for the arrival of fall, and the arrival of spring. How my family would decorate our cavern with beautiful colors, how they'd paint my scales when I was very young, and how I'd paint my own as I got older. The giant feasts, the laughter, the sky dancing with the elders. The tales of ages past the elders always told when they'd gotten into the Kralgoor, and how wonderful it all seemed. How wonderful it made me feel to drink it with my parents in my youth, my friends in my adolescence, and the females I cherished when I grew old enough to truly appreciate them.

And how even when the clan was nearly gone, and it was only my mate, and our children, we kept those traditions alive. My young, my son and daughter, for all I knew they would be the last dragons to ever experience the celebrations of fall and spring, to ever taste the Kralgoor and to learn to dance in the sky and paint their scales in the colors of the season. To hear the tales of our long lost ages, of our greatness. How they smiled at me when I told them those stories! How I never had the heart to tell them why there were no more dragons around for them to play with.

How I missed them now.

I suddenly turned away from the Kralgoor vat, nearly upending it with my tail in my haste. It fell to it's side, and rolled up against the wall, toppling over a few smaller vats, shattering a black painted jar against the floor and spilling it's foul smelling contents all across the ground. I left the room in a hurry, throat tightening inside my long neck. I grit my many sharp teeth as I felt my throat and eyes start to burn. I furiously blinked away the tears that were suddenly threatening to rain from the edges of my gray and black muzzle.

Once outside of the drink chamber, I sniffled hard, trying to distance myself from the room, and the memories it brought. And the human getting a glimpse at the pain I tried so hard to keep buried. What a foolish, stubborn old beast I was. How could I have let it slip through my paws so easily? It must have been the weakness of our race, pride. Pride that allowed us to let our very species' time on earth slip through our grasp like sand beneath our claws. Pride that allowed me to make the very same mistake with my family. I'd let them slip away, and now I, like the last of my species, had nothing.

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