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Our adventurous wolf was on his way back to Firkshone Town. It was a thing he would never have thought about ; coming back to those unloveable people. At least, it was for a reason of justice ; his return to announce a dragon's coming. Hiver smiled mischievously : ha ! At least, they would get their pay, as the dragon assured. ... The dragon... That, surely, was something. Hiver looked down at his trousers. How could it have this effect ? Okay, he had always loved fairy tales, and especially dragons characters. The power, the individuality, the thing that could amaze anyone. And now he saw a real one... Yes, he really loved them. Well, "loved"... Let's say he didn't think seeing one would make such effect. But were his draconic traits the only things ? The fact it was a male could have had a role, too. A large, big, massive, muscled, yet a bit fat male. Everything to make an impression, to command respect. Would it be different with a female ? ...He tried to imagine the situation. Huh - yeah, clearly, he was feeling nothing down here. And was that all ? The farting thing had nothing to deal with ? Yet Hiver knew he had a thing about it. Listening to fairy tales in the inn, and also helping his father in the farm... The farm... He had discovered that, first, I had something about pungent smells ; strong, manly scents, in other words, scents that canonical society would attach to males. But he rather ignored it. With years passing, his friends and their crude but funny jokes would make him find that he really had something with it, but couldn't tell why, nor what. As if he was mesmerized, or as if it was an impulsive challenge towards society ; sniffing up these forbidden gas. Or maybe it was just the way it was. There would be no society thing and people weren't the cause of this inclination ; it was simply him and his tastes, as some people would prefer the blue, the carrots or the southern songs...

Thinking about it and the reasons of it was bothering him. As the boring, traditional lessons the priest had gave him, it reminded him the lose of magic and the world suddenly becoming full of moral things. The work at the farm... When he had had to look after the bulls, he had always took it seriously, and had literally kept an eye on them. More precisely, on their big, muscular rumps. The wolf had even went as far as waiting, sometimes, to see one of the tails raise up ; a fart would fly out of the jiggling bull's hindquarters in a trumpeting sound. Instantly, as if nothing happened, Hiver would come next to the bovine's tight, shiny rump whose surroundings would reek of the acrid odor of a mix between ruminant diarrhea and marsh gas ; the wolf would pat the bull's back, and, his olfactory sense in alert, he would almost lean towards this raised tail and this filthy ass, breathing more in than out, to catch the most stench as possible. Of course, he would take care of never get himself noticed during such moment. Then, Hiver had felt the glorious times of farting humor disappearing as the joyful teenage years drew away. He could permit him such jokes with his friends yet today, but he felt that breaking gas became more embarrassed than before. The last time he did it in public, the others looked at him with a grossed out air. The mature wolf put fart jokes on the same level as the innocence of tough society and the beliefs in fantastical legends, which had both nourished his youth with incredible dreams. He had thought he had to leave it, and had to get the awfully material money. In all cases, Hiver would learn more by going across the world than in watching the bulls fart. Another reason for an adventure.

Okay. Now that the white wolf was considering that the thing was simply a part of him, he was sure of never been bothered about this strange feeling anymore. He will deal with it. Dragons, farts, or anything. That was the way Hiver worked, actually. He liked reflecting on more or less difficult issues when he came across one, but once his mind made, he would accept it. He had enough force to be convinced of his own opinions. On one hand, it was a strength, because he would never be concerned about the same things over and over ; but on the other hand, it was a weakness, because he would only change his mind with difficulty, and only if he trusted enough someone who could gave him enough argumentation. And that never happened. But Hiver didn't mind ; if the thing got to complicated, he would try to get rid of it and pass to the next. And, after all, he was convinced that his way of debating about issues was the best way : if it respects equality, freedom, and does no physical or mental harm, then, it was good. Finding out the good or the evil : that was the most easy thing this mature wolf had gone across, according to him. He surely liked to see the world in a simple way, as he thought it wasn't created to be complicated.

So, when his thoughts got back to this draconic creature, he was able to think freely about what will come next. Going to that village, and preparing food for this beast. He smiled again, when he realized he actually still had the destiny of that dragon between his hands. It would never happen again ! And he felt he had been lucky to cross one of this beast's paths - even if it had been to take a shit. That was a form of luck, as far he was concerned. And Hiver got the fucking occasion to made him eat what he want ! He needed no more time to have a wonderful idea. Maybe it was not a good one, in a moral meaning, but it was clearly a great, unorthodox one, which would permit him to reach the goals of fame and honor in a very enjoyable way.

Lost in his thoughts, our wolf found him lost in the woods. He had to pass the night in the forest, thing that he did without problem ; at the time of the last rays of their star, he had climbed up a pine tree to see what direction take when this sun would rise again. The wolf was glad when he saw he could reach the village by morning. He made him a makeshift bed among solid branches to avoid the nocturnal monsters paths. He was clearly excited about the plan he was making for the next day ; his tail wagged a great part of the evening. His stomach growled, too, since he hadn't had dinner, nor lunch. Another reason to be excited about all that tomorrow food, he thought ; and, is mind fully made, the wolf fell asleep.

******

When the sun rose over the classical scheme of a village, over the wooden and rocky houses of Firkshone Town, no one expected to be woken up by a husky wolf, a sword over his shoulder, a ripped bag on his side and his unbeaten-by-wind white and bluish fur. This said, with that curse and dragon around story, they were a few to really had a full night, as they woke up in a jerk every time a bird had came by. Thus they weren't quite woken up by Hiver, they were more, according to them, "again bothered by this stinking under-evolved". But the fear of the dragon, among town people, was higher than the mere fear of a stranger : dragons were the most monstrous monsters, and the monsters were the most unknown threat. As a being got more monstrous, it got more legends ; it was enough to take a look at the quantity of dragon-related legends to have an idea of the state of mind of those people, who, of course, had never seen the world, but kept judging it.

It was thus easy to Hiver to be heard by the villagers. He showed them the rip of his bag, and some of the town people whose olfactory sense was adapted to detect the smell of a foreigner to miles around clearly found out, smelling the canine, that "he stank something else, that was a lot fouler", what Hiver cleverly called "a dragon scent". Dragon's flatus had the particularity to permeate materials for a long time. Others set their own reasoning : as hell stank, they concluded that every thing that stank was demoniacal. The fear of the dragon intensified ; the pride of the wolf and his excitation intensified too.

The villagers thus convinced of the threat upon them, that a dragon would bring ruins and death and blahblahblah, they obeyed reluctantly to this white wolf, and brought him all the food he would ask for. That was all that Hiver wanted : all the food he would ask. So, wearing a connoisseur's air, the wolf entered in all places that could had any food potentiality, and ceremoniously chose each foodstuff : among cereals, he asked for quantities of oath and wheat, if not all they had, because these peasant didn't know others. Among cattle, he asked for all the red meat, allowing to them to keep the poultry. Letting them keep something, with the forced attitude of a life-saving hero, only made them paying more and more close attention to each of the wolf's order. When Hiver reached the pig's vegetables shop, he couldn't help but wear a tiny sly smile. The pig lowered his eyes and obeyed compliantly to any wolf's command : the white, broad-shouldered canine demanded every crate of cabbage, turnip, rutabaga, potato, or Bruskells Town sprouts they had, he and the other vegetables sellers, there, who tried to hid behind the crowd. He added the carrots to the last moment, as a short, sudden remembrance of some story made him think they could have the desired outcome on dragons - at the same time having a doubt about their efficacy and being afraid that, maybe, someone had realized something. But no, no one complained, they all obeyed.

The vegetable shops looked empty now, with only salads laying alone ; Hiver allowed the villagers to keep them. It reminded him of having ate nothing for long, therefore he politely asked if he could have a lunch. The wolf added some dramatic description of the fight he must had against this Scaly Beast of the Devil, in order that some young fresh girls had a tiny part of their pity overpass their racism, and thus offered him bread, chicken and salad. The adventurer thanked her theatrically, and was glad to see a young bitch obliged Joe the kangaroo to give to the wolf some drinks too. Hiver was eating like that, when half of the villagers were charged to gather the food he had required, and the other half was patiently waiting him. At this moment, the pig muttered :

"Have we finished, as for we, modest vegetables sellers ?" "I don't know," answered Hiver, "had you show me all the food that you have ?"

The pig remained quiet, and the villagers didn't open their mouth. The wolf raised an eyebrow, and shrugged, biting in his bread.

"Y'know, if you wanna die, 'tis your problem." He pointed out his bag, keeping on eating. "I'll be not responsible for any ripped inhabitant."

A new shiver of fear came through the villagers, who began to whisper and push the vegetables sellers forwards, especially the pig, who seemed to be one of the most important. Thus denounced, the pig eventually stuttered, in the name of the others too :

"W-W-We have something else... W-W-We didn't have the place t-t-to put it in our shop, on the stands... A-A-Among what you've already taken... We keep it in our cellars..." "Oh, really ? And what is it ?"

The seller innocently acknowledged :

"Beans..."

Hiver suddenly spat out his mouthful of mead, and coughed a bit ; he let everyone a bit surprised by such a reaction, but they quickly put it on the count of the wolf's surprise that they had lied to their savior. The said savior wiped his muzzle clean, and, remaining calm, trying to master the wigging of his tail, he claimed in a self-assured manner :

"Ho ! Really ?! Well, well, well...! My dear fellows, I'm afraid that we had to take them, too." "All of-" "Yeah, yeah. All of them," the wolf interrupted, certain. "There's no way arguing about it. Right in the dragon's mouth and bowels and... Well, right for the dragon. All of it," he repeated, nodding.

Hiver felt then he had to carried on his role, only to be sure those town people would do what he demanded. So he tried to take a sad look, thing that had been difficult for all the joy that inhabited him.

"I can help you to keep some of your food only if we work together. As a team. Being confident and everything. That's how we must work. But the dragon is no fool. If he smell something or find out we conceal a notable quantity of substantial food, he would not forgive it."

The white wolf found back his calm and bold attitude, and drank again.

"So, yeah, the beans too. And I think it would be enjoyable you baked them before. Just to show him you have understood what he deserved to be considered as he had to be."

The villagers didn't whine, but not seemed really happy to hear that either. Should they really cook for a mighty dragon ?

"Remember, that's for your safety,", Hiver affirmed. "The more satisfied he will be, the more chance you have to get wind back."

He was so fucking intimately proud of what was fucking going on that he began to feel a bit powerful, too. But let us remind you that was for good reasons as far as the wolf was concerned ; it was a kind, pleasurable revenge.

Once they get rid of the vegetable case, it left only a few villagers to accompany Hiver to the last place, the dairy products shop. The wolf demanded all the cheese they had, and let them to keep the milk. They hadn't enough fresh fruits in this season, as the frost got rid of them according to the villagers, and they rarely had ocean or river products, as it was costly and difficult to kept them fresh.

From this moment on and for the great part of the day, the people of Firkshone Town went on preparing the dragon's offering. Well, as they were forced to do so, it was more like a legendary obliged gift ; but with this ceremonial characteristic, a great convoy of food and afraid people lead by a sanguine wolf, it looked like some kind of a religious thing. Anyway, whatever it looked like, that is to say the region had never saw an event of that extent taking place ; and Gods know how the region means Firkshone Town. The village was also agitated by the furries appointed for the cooking ; the foreigner's message had been heard, and they all wanted to execute his wills, so they did their best to stew above all a considerable quantity of beans and sprouts. Some other initiatives were greatly welcomed, so some animals also cooked carrots tarts and main courses with potatoes, made cabbage soup, roasted the red meat, or even melt cheese to mix with cereals (that was one of the idea an old vixen had to use these two ingredients in a plate that wouldn't be to complicated and which could be presented as a traditional recipe to the beast, in the case he would ask). But all these dishes were in ridiculous proportion compared to what remained raw, from vegetables to meat - the cheese too, but it was not in a great amount. Anyway, the village knew an unprecedented day, as no one had ever gave of its person and act for the good of a community as before. Well, it remained a selfish act, as they were only doing so to protect their lives and not others' - and as they kept on considering the wolf as a stinky person - but that was a first step.

Hiver had chose their fields as an assembly area, because the dragon would need place to land correctly. The fields were by Firkshone Town, and we could easily see the village's roofs from there. These lands were seen like the last border between their society and the outside world ; now they would be known as the place of "the great submission to the demoniacal monsters" - those were the words of the old fox. The food was brought and piled up in sizable mounds, the sprouts were coming in cooking pots and beans in full, steaming carts. Hiver even feared that the dragon would not eat everything, but he respected, on this point, the deal with the beast. As the zero hour was coming, the place got full ; vegetables, cereals and starchy food were predominant in quantity, and then came, in order, the meat, the cheese, and finally the cooked things. When the time had come, every thing that Hiver had chose was waiting for the draconic stomach.

The white wolf advised the town people to get safe, and go home ; he told them that, in the dramatic case the beast wouldn't be satisfied, or if the situation worsen in a way or another, he would deal with that dragon, and would take him out. The wolf hadn't to repeat it : the population obeyed right away, and eventually came back to their pretty, little, clean village. Thus Hiver remained alone. As he made sure that everyone was homeward bound, he turned back, and beheld that incredible feast. Oh, yes, that would be an unforgettable show. Now, all he had to do is waiting for that winged reptile, and hope that he would accept a new deal.

******

Hiver had no way to get the exact time, but when, his gaze lost in the reflection of his sword, he heard some powerful flapping sounds above him, he knew that the scaly beast was in time. The wolf get up, and saw the hefty dragon land heavily, as silver black, red, and condescending as he was the day before. The reptile, noting the mounds of food, faked an impressed attitude and gave his congratulations with his big voice.

"Well, well, well ! We could say that's a completed quest !" "That was just a favor, or a deal, if you want." replied Hiver. "It didn't bothered me too much either, as I have something with those people... They're absolutely saddening." "Oh, really ?" feigned the dragon. "What a pity."

And his stomach growled. It was not the growl the wolf had already heard ; it was lighter, smaller noises which were evidences of an empty tank, complaining of hunger. The delicious smells of that king sized meal made the dragon drool, his nostrils wide opened. The reptile got nearer of that wonderful and delicious idea he had in that forest the day before, when he fell upon this white wolf.

"Sorry, wolfy, if you don't mind, I'm starving and all of this sweet-smelling foodstuff is waiting for me", the black dragon stated in a hurry ; then he rushed in a voracious way towards these steaming piles and carts, maw wide open, and began his dinner.

It was here for that purpose, had thought Hiv- Wait. Did this dragon just called him... "Wolfy" ? But, right now, it didn't really matter for the furry, since he had this marvelous beast eating greedily in front of him. The dragon stuffed himself with all those cabbages, turnips, or sprouts with one paw, and with raw, fresh meat and potatoes with the other hand : he grabbed it by shovelfuls and poured it into his mouth, chewing rudely. He stretched his paws towards the beans carts, and the black dragon devoured them, his muzzle almost plunged into the saucy seeds ; he swallowed them cart after cart, lifting them in the air and discharging their content right into his throat. Swedes disappeared in the great dragon's black hole at the same time the cereals did, and cheese covered it up. The reptile didn't notice the dishes made for him when he gulped them as he did for the buckets of oats, and only seemed to smile, as if he found it good. Tarts, soups, cheese-and-cereals and other attentions were eaten in this way. Wheat and the last beans mixed together splattered in liters on his long, pink tongue before sliding right towards his esophagus ; the way the dragon gobbled down all that food, giving up chewing for the half of it, Hiver would think the beast hadn't eaten for days.

A few minutes later, the silver-black dragon had finished. Every raw or cooked thing had went down to the reptile entrails and had completely filled it, to a point his tummy looked like ready to burst. Sat on his hind legs, the beast sighed of content, and patted his now full abdomen. His red scaly belly had almost inflated before the wolf's very eyes as his meal had been swallowed ; stained here and there by drops and crumbs of food, his gut now bulging notably made the dragon look fatter as ever. A paw resting on his overstuffed stomach, the winged reptile burped loudly, letting a greasy smoke swirl out of his jaws.

"How was it ?" Hiver asked, amused to this scene. "Really - buuurrp - good," he belched again.

The black dragon looked down on the wolf with a lethargic gaze, intoxicated with food.

"Now we can carry on. You were saying something ?" "You do not mind losing your time with it ?"

The tall beast patted his bloated belly again, which made sloshing, impressive sounds.

"As you can see, I'm full. Flying now wouldn't be reasonable. And that's uncomfortable, flying during the first digestion moments." But the dragon noticed that he was explaining why, so he promptly retorted : "And, anyway, I do what I want. Tell me about you."

Joyfully surprised, Hiver continued his talking with the dragon.

"Let's say that as soon as I entered in one of their shop, they snubbed me. I thought at first sight they were one of those agreeable, innocent people, living quietly - actually, they're living too much quietly, are utter bastards who insulted me because I'm of an other species. And because I'm a foreigner." "Hmpf," made the dragon, agreeing silently.

Hiver tried to remain proud.

"I went into their inn, where their kangaroo had dealt a fatal blow to my person in laughing at me along all the village at least. I turned back and was definitely walking away when an old hare stopped me, and... Gave me that quest. The one you came upon. "Oh, that quest," remembered the dragon. "What were their reasons to want me dead ?"

The white wolf shrugged, unconvinced, and showed the roofs of Firshone Town, in the background.

"Because "they had no wind anymore". They had a pure, fresh wind that was blowing upon their village and was somehow one of their numerous source of pride."

This piece of information only made the dragon laugh sarcastically.

"Ha ! As if it was my fault !" "I didn't find the point out me neither," added Hiver. "I don't see the link with you and air currents."

These words hadn't fallen on deaf ears, and the black reptile giggled :

"Well, I know how I'm involved in air currents, but that's clearly not "pure, fresh wind", eheh !"

This allusion thrilled the white wolf, who immediately turned back towards the big dragon. The latter carried on.

"So they're xenophobic, let alone not believing in an adventurer of your stature ?" "You bring me to the thing I wanted to tell you," replied the said-adventurer.

Hiver's mind didn't realize the use of "of your stature" that could mean a lot of things, coming from a powerful beast as the dragon was. The wolf simply went on his explanations :

"I wanted to make a deal with you. I wanted to extend your... "favor". I give you the village, too ; I think they deserve a good lesson."

The dragon listened carefully, and seemed entertained.

"You know, you can show them how powerful you are," carried on Hiver, "that no one has to pick a fight with you. They're all complaining about what's dirty or not, and, I know them, they wouldn't be glad if a flatulent dragon enters into their loveable town."

The winged reptile, surprising easily according to Hiver, guffawed :

"Oh, I see what you mean ! Gwahaha ! I love your plan ! I knew you were a foreigner. A good one, the one that had different, new, great ideas. So, flatulence would really bother them ?" "Yeah, I really think." "I didn't know that you people didn't like farts for themselves ! I thought that such results only afraid you..."

The white wolf smiled awkwardly.

"Let's say it's considered by some northern people as a "bad-manner". Y'know, the obvious sound and the stench." "A bad-manner ?" exclaimed the black dragon. "What bad-manner ? I do what I want, I'm a dragon !" "I know, I know. I'm offering you the occasion to doing so, actually."

However, the black reptile smartly reflected, and asked aloud :

"But wouldn't they think you're involved in my coming to the core of their town ?" "That's when I enter into the stage," announced Hiver proudly, crossing his arms. "Once you've gassed up everything, I came as a hero ; I make you leave - I'd babble some fake spell, or dramatic stuff like that -, you simply leave, and then they will not help but saw that I did my best to protect their town. You can show them your power, and I can gain a few points in popularity among these bloody snobbish people. Quid pro quo," the wolf concluded.

The tall scaly looked down at this little furry in comparison. He reflected once again, smirked, and agreed :

"Sounds really funny to me. I'm in it." "Really ?! Oh, that's so cool !"

The broad-shouldered wolf couldn't help but having an outburst of joy ; he tried to remain calm, but from this moment on, his tail was wagging hard. He thought now they just had to wait for the drag-

But all of the sudden, a noisy and fierce growl twisted the reptile's bowels. As soon as it was heard, the pointed ears of Hiver raised and the dragon held his big ruby belly.

"Ooow, Great Gods..." the tall beast moaned. "Wait - you're not telling me that it's gonna happen now ? You told me you just began to digest !" "Yes... But I don't know what you fed me with, or what those villagers gave to me..."

The wolf didn't answer, but he perfectly knew that he had chosen all the ingredients with, according to him, a high fartability that he had found in town, and only them. The dragon's bowels acted up, and another intense, lengthy gurgle ran along his intestines. The beast, bent in a half, whined, and complained, with a contracted face :

"Oooow... The pain..."

His bloated belly in fact almost hurt him - Hiver didn't know that overacting was always a draconic way of life. But that did not prevent the unbelievable gas production to fill more and more the reptile's digestive system. Knotted by a rotten air pressure, the distended red stomach emitted a deep rumbling noise ; the big dragon, still holding his fat belly, inevitably leant forward. His tail wasn't fully raised that a loud yet restrained fart escaped forcefully from his rump. The stinky blast of air blew the fields as the sound of a deflating balloon echoed in the vast space, under the lights of the setting sun ; the neighboring green plants were curved under the pungent expulsion, as the rotten air swept away some of the soil, thus creating a dusty breeze. The dragon eventually fell on his four, and let out a sigh of alleviation ; Hiver's nostrils were opening and closing on and on as he breathed faster in the beefy stench. But the windy hurricane that was forming in the dragon gut started to torture him again with ferocious gurgles.

"Oh, I had never felt so full... That's like having a gas tank in place of my colon... You've prepared this, eh ?" groaned the dragon, giving a sidelong look at Hiver.

The wolf casually scratched his head, and smiled :

"Well, I could have organize the meal in a special way... Only to make you more effective." "Hahah-Gnnoooh... You... You little cunning furry..."

All worked as planned ! And Hiver never felt as proud as on this day, where he had said to a great dragon, full of flatus :

"Now, Dragon, to the village !"

Before adding :

"Don't let a single waft out before you've reached the town, okay ? That would be a shame if you waste your power." "You little- *grrrrowl* Ooh... Well... To those people, then... Quick..."

And eventually, nearly crawling, the dragon difficultly walked towards Firkshone Town. Hiver said he will be waiting behind a building, close enough to... Erm... Yeah, that's it : to reveal himself heroically and save everyone from this evil-smelling, living, sublime disaster.

******

The town people didn't seem to notice anything at first look. They were trying to live as any other day, and trying to not look towards the fields. They have heard that some of this demoniacal creatures could paralyze you at the first glance - the beast that should come from up there could be one of them. Others mentioned a poisoning breath... Ah ! What an horrible idea the Great Gods had when they had conceived such a monster !

That was a unheard scream that alarmed the village. Every furry, who was already tensed due to the day's problems, saw his poor and uninteresting life pass before his eyes when they witnessed this coming. A very tall, four-legged, lustrous dark and red blood, seeming threateningly carnivorous monster was crawling his way townwards. They first didn't move, all frozen with fear, and failed to realize what terror was entering their loveable place. That was a dragon, shouted someone ; his groans were the mumbled cruse, and now he came because the offering hadn't satisfied him - they were all doomed, they will all die, and they should all apologize to the Creature of the Devil. Half of the village thus came, scared to death and shaken by the invisible force of the unknown. When they judged the never-seen-before beast, whose wincing in pain face was undoubtedly an attempt to intimidate them all, was close enough to them, they began to beg forgiveness, and prayed him to have mercy. But the hefty, mean reptile, huffing and puffing (those people take it for some fire charging up), astounded them all when it turned around. He put his imposing behind in front of them, and took two steps backwards that shook the earth. They noticed here that the black as night dragon had plugged his red as fire asshole by pressing on it the tip of his black as death tail. It didn't occurred to them that now was the time for the bloated reptile to discharge. And the dragon left his tail.

That was an incredible peal of flatus that stroke Firkshone Town this day, as strongly as if a foul sky had shattered into pieces above their lives. A wave of panic got the villagers as the powerful wave of stench blew hard their atmosphere ; the nasty, thundering flatulence was exploding upon them from this freed tailhole when they began to run around in madness, arms in the air, tearing apart their vocal cords as they gave their most scandalously offended, incomprehensible, frightened yells. Most of them grabbed hold of a wall or a tree, and tried to be not blown away by the force of the tornado, but most of them actually flew a few meters away. The deafening sound of such a colossal farting eventually came into an end, before each victim could fully endure the second and most dreaded part of the coarse act : a gruesome olfactory offense, rich in loathsome odors of dragon innards, fetid dragon shit, gross draconic windy products and wickedly digested fibers. The three-fourth of it were terribly unknown, and so terribly repulsive, and the last fourth, which had already made his stinky proofs, had here his power dramatically increased. The noisome scent invaded their noses and made the population groan of an utter disgust, covering their muzzles with their paws, gazing shockingly at their citizens nearby with wide opened, stinging eyes. And that was only the first shot.

Even though, it had been quite relieving to the dragon. He let his tongue out for a few seconds after that liberation, long enough for his back blast stench to get him - that was just what he needed. Then, he could finally get to his favorite part, and playfully assumed the role of the Great Tormentor ; sticking out his chest, the winged reptile turned towards the village, and adopted a proud, arrogant, superior, grinning attitude in front of all these poor, little, weak, scared people. He, in fact, totally played his dragon's role, as he liked to do so when he met the world inhabitants. Having an entire town at his mercy began to stimulate his ego.

"Behold my wrath ! Fear my powers ! I am your desolation !" he was roaring from this moment on, a bit randomly, when he wanted.

Of course, this overacting wasn't too much for the inhabitants of Firkshone Town, and only reinforced their flights of fancy about dragons, monsters, disasters and problems. This said, the coarse behavior of the redoubtable beast disturbed them completely, and the results were a confused, disgusted alarm - because, yes, the dragon hadn't finished. Nothing could be farther from the truth than thinking so.

The tough reptile went on a true gassy rampage in the village. His full gas tank were literally pouring its heavy-smelling contents out of his colon, at high rates, for numerous seconds. A notable fart in the main street was especially well done : a regular, rumbling burst of flatulence that blew down an old, sick pine tree nearby, whose crackle contrasted with the low-pitched tuba sound. The abhorrent wind flew down the street fast, some empty crates were blew away ; villagers who hadn't time to flee felt their furs stroke by the tepid air current. On his way, the storm left its thick, noxious odor of rotten beef, which gushed into most of the perpendicular streets and infiltrated the houses by sneaking in through badly closed windows and unprotected under-the-doors spaces. From the outside, uncountable screams of disgust where emitted within these walls. Great torrents of flatulence thus flushed the village for what seemed to those town people an eternity ; an eternity of bass-toned, vile sounds shaking the glass panes, and turbulent flows making the trees tremble in spicy stinks.

As far as Hiver was concerned, the hidden wolf didn't miss a single action, and joyfully succeeded in following the farting dragon along the streets without being noticed. The village strangely seemed bigger to him than during his first coming, as he didn't knew so many places or back alleys. At the first raucous, funky blasts, the wolf had tried to resist and remain calm, despite the visible excitement of his tail ; but he quickly gave up and was inhaling heartily every dragon flatulence.

Sometimes, the tall, black reptile who came across running away furries would scare them out of their wits with a single "boo" and a sly smile. As we said, he perfectly filled the mighty monster's part, even if it was somehow natural for him to behave in this way. Once he found a pig, the market gardener, who hid besides a pile of barrels ; the dragon only had to tip-toe closer, move his ass forward, and cut out more cheese to make him yell and flee away. The beast did his best to laugh spitefully. Such stupid frights carried on entertaining the reptile : those people who had wanted him dead were screaming, escaping, or, after having inhale too much or being utterly grossed, passed out in the streets. And all of that because this black dragon, passing gases like crazy, was simply letting it out ; the tremendous sound of his expulsions were only interrupted by the bubbling noises of his upset stomach, the outraged alarms, or the steamy silence of the stinking-ups. The groans of the miserable revolted were definitely lost in the groans of the great crude.

It came to a point that the abundant eruptions were misting the village. Brownish clouds hovered everywhere and get more and more thick and numerous, as an evidence of the overly-charged atmosphere in methane, hydrogen sulfide and other mysterious, vicious gas that composed dragon's flatus. Firkshone Town seemed to drastically lose inhabitants as the streets got empty : everybody fleeing from the dragon had took cover at home, and a noticeable part had rushed into the inn. A lot of people had took refuge in it, as it was the greatest house of Firkshone Town ; that is to say the confined shelter with the most space to escape from the outside stinky, scaly threat. Under each roof, people were locking themselves in, and started to draughtproof any crack or window. They plugged the chimney, too ; they didn't want any little connection with the rotting outside atmosphere. Within his bastion, Joe the kangaroo coordinated everyone's work, and tried to give orders to newcomers who came knocking in despair at the entrance door - fear, disgust and scandal didn't help for team work, but they eventually insulated the place. We'll pass on those dramatic scene were people kept on complaining and trying to realize that they were literally farted on. The furry who had spoke about legendary bad breaths was considered as a semi-prophet.

The dragon, seeing everyone taking refuge, began to find the outside not populated enough to enjoy his gassing, so he sought for a late refugee and a not sealed off opening. He quickly found one, and smashed the window open, to the despair of its inhabitants - the destiny wanted that it was the old fox's home. The dragon stuck his ass on the framework, and hadn't to force the gas out. A big bubble were ready to lose, so he broke a powerful, nasty flatulence directly into the house. The cacophonous expulsion shook the whole habitation, and filled it with a rank, cheesy air. The old fox and his fellows yelped inside when the ambient temperature increased and a brownish volatile substance stank out the place, crept into their nostrils. The reached any sheet of fabric, pressed it against their tortured muzzles, and, afraid of suffocation, hurled themselves outside, under the satisfied face of the dragon. The old fox would remind of this atrocity for ever and would certainly tell stories about it ; anyway, they finally chose the flee from the village, which was the most efficient way to get rid of having his nose violated.

The impressive beast had felt it good to broke wind in a confined space, and thus torturing those people. It was very mean for them, he thought, but found it a quite good joke for stiff town people, let alone these winds were another source of pride indeed. So he sought again for a place, which, maybe, would be more interesting to play with. The black dragon headed towards the center of the village. Until his burning look fell upon the inn. He came nearer, and found it totally closed ; the winged reptile loved this, and, getting up on his hind legs, looked on the upper side if he could find something. Hm, the chimney was unreachable without getting on the building, and he risked squashing those poor people, thing that the dragon wasn't looking for. So, he got a simple idea. With one claw, the beast made a hole in the thatched roof, and widened it so that his fist could enter. Finding here the bedrooms floor and a few scared furries getting down quickly to the first floor, the dragon mischievously kept on digging, and eventually made a hole in the main room's ceiling. Every refugee remained helpless when they saw the elongated snout of the "Creature of the Devil" appear in that hole above us ; they noticed his grin. Then, the beast turned back, still standing, and the villagers saw in horror his foul-smelling, scaly red rump came down, until it blocked all sunlight and crushed close the only exit. The big four-legged creature had sat down on the roof, in the way that a bipedal giant would have done.

The ingenious dragon placed his ass so he could feel nothing but the empty, screaming space around his filthy cloaca ; he enjoyed this prelude of power, and, without no more warning, he grunted. The red door to olfactory hell opened, and this time, from the outside, no booming or trumpeting sound was heard. Yet, in this relative silence, one could hear and note the dragon moan almost painfully, and horrified shrieks follow, coming from the targeted building ; despite his contracted face, the mighty reptile was overjoyed when he felt a perfectly silent but absolutely deadly gas flowed out of his anus. A highly-concentrated gust from the beast's intestines invaded the shelter, and an abominable stink blew out every particle of breathable air. Cabbages, sprouts and badly-digested lactose dealing abnormally with the dragon's guts, they had been decomposed in such a terrible way that it created an abhorrent, sulfuric stench, somewhat between a paroxysmal eggy stink, skunk spray, dragon diarrhea and this awful potential that these winged-reptile had. Liters and liters of that scorching air poured out of the untightened tail hole and burnt the dragon's rectum as it burnt every furries' lungs and stung hard their throats ; it was a true, unbearable heatwave that swirled in the inn, knocking down every weak villager, giving a serious, stinky blow on their respiratory systems. The strongest were bending over, retching and coughing as the closed atmosphere got thicker and oppressively stuffy ; their burning, red shot eyes were watering, blurring the sight of the few survivors, sense that had already been handicapped by the heavy fumes. The dragon still moaned ; the long-lasting, hellish stream rapidly filled the inn and its horrid pungence permeated the beams, the wooden stuff, even the stone, overwhelmed the furries, their clothes, everything ; the locked windows fogged up, bearing witness of that transformation in an evil-smelling sauna. As he felt the lethal SBD sear his anus, the dragon knew the calamity he was producing, and his ego increased to heavens ; but, as all good things, the flatulence eventually came to an end, and his rectum closed at the same time his eyelids lowered in relief. However the reptile kept his ass on the building for a moment, preventing it form any less stinky aeration from the outside, and let the town people roast in sulphur - he took a great delight in hearing them fainting, going mad, gasping for air or crying for help. When his snout caught a slight whiff of that toxic streamer, the black dragon promptly waved a paw in front of him, and almost felt sorry for those little furries who were catching hell.

"Wheeeew, Great Gods !" he shouted jokingly. "This one was really bad... It must had hurt in there !"

Finally, all those unfortunate people passed out, and Joe, who appeared to be the bravest, and who at last succeeded in breaking a window, collapsed before getting out. The dragon, once he was sure everyone has felt, if not smelt his power, casually get up of the roof, get back on his four, and, gazing at his work and all this desolate, fumigated place, he roared in a proud laughter that echoed in the town. The now deserted, smoked up, reeking Firkshone Town.

******

When Hiver saw these doubtlessly dire straits, he tried to focus on his part. The wolf stopped thinking about the damn boner he had for minutes - some people could even think how the fuck could he not have one - and who was pointing in his trousers. He grabbed his sword, and held it bravely before him ; he took a last, deep breath in those raunchy, stanky fumes, and emerged from oblivion.

Yes, that was all farty on the open stage ; nevertheless, the setting had an epic feeling that no one could have deny. The whole town dived into a ghastly stench and a thick fog, the broad-shouldered, white, bluish furred wolf, pointing his sword out, approached like a hero towards the tall, burly, onyx, silver and ruby dragon. They both had flames burning in their eyes, and, noting how stinky it was, spectators would also have theirs crying. On the top of that, once the mighty beast noticed the foreign furry's entrance, the reptile came towards him in an outrageously badass way, swaggering about in his own spicy stench, his long tail whipping the brown clouds - all of this under the blurred spotlights that formed the last orange rays of the sun through the gassy atmosphere.

They eventually got face to face. And the climax of the play went on.

"Behold, hero !" declared the dragon.

He took a deep whiff.

"All this wonderful, warm atmosphere of this dear outside, a bit cloudy... Isn't it a marvelous weather ? Yes, behold the power of my sole natural relief !" "I am not even impressed a bit !" shouted Hiver. "Even if my crotch is," he accidentally thought, preventing himself from opening more his mouth.

The winged-reptile arrived right before the white wolf, and, standing tall, weighed him up ; Great Gods, that was surely impressive, thought Hiver. Having done so, the dragon solemnly declared from up there, on the top of his stature, over-confident :

"And who are you to allow you the right to stand before me ?"

That was really cool, considered Hiver in his mind ; this dragon was perfectly doing his job ! The wolf was sure that, someone, around here, was looking at this scene, and would attend to his upcoming victory ! On these thoughts, the adventurer raised his sword skywards, pointing it at the beast, and announced :

"Monstrous monster ! I shall defeat you, in the name of all those unfortunate people you just-"

But the dragon didn't wait more, and stretched his paw to the astonished hero ; the powerful reptile merely gave him a small flick, with one claw, that made Hiver fall on his back. The wolf dropped his sword, which banged on a rock, and slid too far away to get it back. The wolf could have done nothing else but noting that this act had been so unexpected that all his strengths had strangely left him when he had been pushed ; laid on his back, he stared blankly at the dragon, in complete lack of understanding.

"Oh, look at you, wretch..." smirked the black dragon. "What will you do now, swordswolf ? You cannot protect your little person from my winds..."

And as he said so, the mighty beast turned over and raised its thick tail. In pure amazement, the wolf found himself right below a scaly, oversized rump, which shaded him despite of the already overshadowed, brown sky up there, in the background. Hiver saw the reddish tailhole between two chubby black thighs come closer fast, and the dragon heavily sat down on him. He didn't crush him though, since his butt was rounded enough to let some space along a sort of a crack, covered in red scales, that linked the pattern of his lower parts to the underside of his tail ; but that didn't prevent the furry from being squashed under the heavy muscular weight, and unable to do any movement. His canine face, thanks to this accurate reptile who had planned all this, was in the only place where a muzzle could have fit without being crushed, that is to say right under the foul asshole of the reptile. In that rapid succession of actions, the wolf didn't have to wonder whether breathing or not was a good idea, and, thus pressed against that behind, his natural instinct made him inhale deeply his asshole. The vile stench hit Hiver like a sledgehammer blow - his mind promptly recorded the musky, hot scent of the dragon's feculent, flatulent ass. Now he got a closer look, his red anus was still strained from the shit of the previous day, which strengthened that stench and increased its acridity. With such proximity, the wolf's cock get suddenly, fully erect, rising against the beast's groin. The Great Tormentor, truly enjoying his victory and finding his new seat as comfortable as a throne, stated :

"I have to thank you about that ! I would never thought I could scare an entire village only with my gases. Such panic for a little need..."

The burly reptile felt some flatulence ready to be unleashed - remains of his corrupted, silent but deadly gust. The beast, delighted with the idea of giving a private demonstration of his bowels sovereignty, leant a bit forward, and smothered the wolf even more, whose nose touched the moist, sweaty ass scales.

"Here are the accomplishment of your toils !" he giggled.

The black beast grunted, and pushed the flatus out. In the same vein as his previous abomination, a stifling heat hissed out of his enormous asshole, and brushed the white fur of the wolf by the sides of his face. Hiver, in full bliss under that manly monster, promptly breathed in when he felt the dragon anus widening... Before regretting immediately afterward. It was as strong as an olfactory whip lash. The fetid-to-hell whiff attacked his sensitive muzzle, sinus and trachea, his eyes got a violent, bloody shot, and the stinky atrocity hurt his brain : as the gas tank was getting empty, stenches from the decaying depths had been forced out, and to Hiver, it smelt as horrendously as if the dragon had dropped his guts. The wolf, despite his full boner, started to feel nauseous, only capable to moan loudly, as the steaming tailhole tightened when the airy whooosh finished. For his part, the dragon was exhaling as the atrocious odor was slithering out. The brown fog slowly intensified in the last, high-pitched squeak - after such a airy biscuit, it was really sweltering around his seat. When he heard the furry complain, the reptile turned around and looked down on his rump, and smiled.

"Woh ! This one was pretty hot ! Love it, wolfy ?"

The dragon knew that was the last moments, so he made it last. He finally gave up with this mighty behavior, and playfully jiggled his rump. The scaly, who now found back the somehow childish side of ass torture, wanted to be sure that he made the furry enjoy the stuffy place.

But that wasn't finished. Unexpectedly, a giant gas bubble built up in his lower intestines, and rushed down to his colon. Hiver, who had his face buried into a sulfuric oven, heard the rumbling roll toward the scaly asshole and him like a rock slide. The dragon groaned, gritted his teeth, which traced an ivory line of instant bliss - he felt that, witout a doubt, that big one will be the last major shot. As a result, he forced out a humongous burst : one gross, beany stink bomb that vibrated moistly against the wolf's snout and sounded wet ; Hiver flared his nostrils and felt that heavenly hell burst over his face and gave him a shameless, unforgivable stinky shower. The dragon moaned louder when he felt a straight organ poke hard the hot scales of his crotch.

Then, it ended.

The dragon, his tummy now flattened, and his eyelids lowered in relief, panted during a few seconds, basking in this ruled city full of his rancid effluvia. He finally got up, and was surprised to find out that Hiver was still conscious, since his disheveled face was groaning. Such endurance was hanks to his strength of mind, and, without a doubt, because he only had the last poots. And maybe had he been helped with a bit of sexual arousal. However, the black beast didn't seemed to notice this last point, and, without doing nothing more but an interested smile, simply took off in his brown fumes, and got away.

******

Firkshone Town, bathed in a mephitic fog. That was the still picture that lasted the night, and even after. Here and there, unconscious furries were lying on the ground, in their houses, or shops, and in the inn, too. Some were still hiding, and some have simply left. A white, bluish wolf, was lying on the ground too, in the middle of the town, with the face of one who had got through thick and thin, or, as a literally translation of a foreign expression would say, with the face of someone who had fought "against winds and tides". But he was fully conscious, although dreamy and exhausted by intoxication, and was staring at the overcast sky.

After a long moment, Hiver got up, and helped people. When the inhabitants began to awake, no one knew how much time they have been unconscious. They gathered in the main street, and, when the foreigner opened the house of a rather old shepherd who had locked up himself, the dog exclaimed :

"The foreigner ! The foreigner ! I saw him ! He confronted the dragon directly - I mean, you know, "confronted"... face to rump !"

Hiver, his mind still blurred, was suddenly reminded of his whole plan - it had completely forgotten it. But the village kept on his conclusions, without help, as always :

"Dragon normally eat people ! If the monster had gone after having encountered the foreigner, this wolf must have done something to him !" "Would that mean it's all thanks to him that the dragon didn't kill us after having prevented us to flee ?" (That was the only logical reason they had found to explain these gas affair.) "Yeah, I'm sure ! I saw him, with my own eyes : he resisted from a dragon fart at point blank range !" "Great Gods !" "And then, the dragon simply took away, without saying nothing ! That wolf should have hurt him or something !" "He's a poor, old, honest neighbor of mine ! We should trust him right now ; he's so credible !" "Hurrah ! Hurrah !"

The broad-shouldered wolf was suddenly lifted in the air by a plentiful of paws, villagers acclaiming him. He finally got a room from Joe, who had to recognize that, having survive to this, that was absolutely a worthy achievement.

The better is that wind came back. Two months later, completely randomly. But, of course, it was all thanks to the adventurous wolf. He had gone for other adventures, for a long time, when the pure air currents blew again on those common roofs, but his figure gained even more popularity among the villagers. Of course, the town wasn't done with the stench of dragon flatulence, which, has we said, had the particularity to linger and permeate for a long time, especially when it had flowed in quantities and overwhelm an entire village for two months. Villagers' olfactory sense had even got accustomed to that stink, and maybe they didn't notice it ; but the first invisible breezes from an unknown place, perceived as signs of hope, were considered better than nothing.

And that's how Hiver the wolf successfully completed his first own quest.