Outside the cave, the moon was shining in a sharply-defined half-circle, midway through its monthly sequence. The stars were somewhat dim, as a thin layer of fog rose from the Denwold trees. An owl called out eerily off to the north; and the soft cheeping of the tiny tree frogs echoed over Thraluic’s clearing.

In the moonless dark of the cave, the large, solid shape of the dragon breathed softly, his eyes flickering behind scaly lids in the midst of draconic dreams.

((Just a little comment here - somehow, I messed up and posted chapter six twice. So I'm editing this and turning it in to chapter seven. Sorry for any confusion.))

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Thraluic sat back, relaxing his tensed muscles. He curled his tail around his feet, for all the world like one of the scullery cats back home in the kitchen.

Ander lay panting on the grass, his whole right side on fire from the poison of the Vial. He looked up at the dragon, unable to ask his questions out loud until he could catch his breath.

Ander bowed reflexively – the same deep bow Cook had taught him even before he could walk. The ex-governess remembered her old days as a teacher for well-bred children and tried to teach her ward the manners of the upper class, though Ander had admittedly paid little attention to his lessons. The bow, though, came naturally, since he used it often enough in the palace. “It is an honor to meet you, m’lady.” Even the words were automatic, though while he said them, Ander was frantically trying to think of a way to get Thraluic’s attention without bringing the Queen’s wrath on himself.

CHAPTER FOUR