Bonded At Caer Talor Cliff
I like to sharpen them on the trees.
"I know that..." Drake looked at those poor trees in question, one sapling was all but shredded beyond growing, and another he'd poked two big holes in. "I just hope that the others haven't noticed that you do that..."
Why not? I like having sharp horns. You like them, and I can spear Ants with them!
"I don't want you getting that close to any ants, Antoneth... I mean, they could swarm all over you."
The concern in Drake's voice made Antoneth's countenance soften. They must be killed.
"All of them," Drake nodded, "but you'll have time to do that when you're bigger. Your horns are still growing, my friend. When they're done, you can spear all the ants you want..."
The farther away the better, he thought.
Why would you say that? If I have a caer-brother I would certainly like to know him better. We will fight together, and we will protect your clan together.
"I know," Drake sighed, as they winged over the strangely familiar land of Paniya. Drake had never seen it look so green and lush, the rains had just come and swept over the whole place. He had to find out though, where the rest of the Triptych Clan were resting.
He stopped in at Chagga to possibly find out, and learned that not only do the Chaggans drink far too much coffee, but that several of his clan members had drifted through there on their way to Caers as candidates.
Smiling to himself, he hoped it would be soon when they came back. It would be good to gloat.
He wasn't so happy when he learned that it was Carrolyne and Diva who had been selected. Not that they didn't deserve to be upon dragon back, but he heard all about Carol's little collapse. Though the others didn't much want to talk about it, he had to explain that he knew about her shapeshifting ability - he was one of the few people that she did confide in.
He wanted her to be strong, and his dragon queried and got the whole story explained to him.
Why would anyone starve themselves? It makes no sense. You must be strong and fit, and that means eating, does it not?
"It does," sighed Drake, "but I only hope that she remembers that no one but her thinks she's fat."
I have not seen her. I wish to. Perhaps she will come soon. And perhaps she will ride a healthy purpler or green dragoness. That would be good.
Drake felt the distinct tingle of masculinity that Antoneth gave off, as the red bloated himself up into a puffball of testosterone.
Then, the Trio came around, and finally got to introduce themselves. Pyr was interested in getting Drake and Dane to at least speak, always trying to keep his rider from depression. Grudgingly, they did so, but still had remarkably little to talk about. But at least he was up on the local gossip, who had been seen where, and which Faustas tricks had been pulled of late.
"Perhaps we could eventually stop them," Drake said around the camp fire, watching the reflections of the Trio's eyes. Dane's eyes narrowed, the blue iris already turned blood violet by the fire light.
"We could," he said flatly. "I think some day we will."
That at least, they could agree upon.