The Black Collar: Chapter Ten

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Chapter Ten

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The moors stretched on forever. To the tiny green dragon who bound across boulder-strewn hills, there was no end to the emerald world. The grass was soft and the sun was warm. The hatchling was always happy. The burning of his little legs was outweighed by joyous exuberance as he raced up another hill. At the top of the rise he scrambled up a snaking ridge of gray rock. Tiny black claws caught purchase in crevices and patches of moss as the hatchling climbed. When he stood atop the highest point the could find, he tipped his stubby-horned head back, roaring to the brilliant blue skies.

“Rraaaaaaahh!” At his age it was more joyful squeal than ferocious roar.

The roar that echoed was deep and resounding, full of primal strength and wild power. To the little hatchling that roar could have shaken the clouds from the sky. It rattled loose pebbles atop the ridge of rock, sent lizards skittering for hiding places. Yet the hatchling was unafraid. That roar was not a thing of terror or anger. For the little dragon, that reverberating cry, that earth-shaking roar held only love because it came from his mother.

“Momma, look!” The hatchling chirped down at his mother from atop the peak that seemed so high. “I’m bigger than you!”

Mother lifted her head until she was peering down at her son once more. She smiled at him. She flared her spines a little bit, and nuzzled her son. Her own pebbly scaled muzzle was nearly half as big as he was. “Not quite, my love.”

“No fair!” The little dragon huffed, flicked a tail that had yet to grow spines, and promptly swatted his mother on the nose.

Mother yanked her head back, her neck curling into an S. “Ow!” She rubbed her nose with a paw, narrowing copper eyes at her son. “No hitting, Love. Unless you want a swat on the haunches.”

“I’mma swat you on the haunches!” The hatchling giggled to himself. “Catch me!”

Without giving his mother a chance to prepare, the little hatchling launched himself off the rocky rise straight for his mother’s head. Wings not yet big enough to carry him flared on instinct alone. In a flash his mother snapped her jaws, delicately catching her son by his neck. For a moment he hung as limp as a chastised kitten hoisted by its scruff. All four limbs dangled, and the tiny dragon’s copper eyes widened in pure hatchling astonishment. How had Momma done that?

Before he began to wriggle, Mother set her son down. Once the youngling had his paws under himself, he bounded off across the hill. “Catch me again, Momma!”

The two dragons shared layers of green coloration that naturally camouflaged them against the emerald sprawl of the wilds where the hatchling was born. The hatchling’s greens were paler than his mother but would dark by adulthood. His mother held shades of both, darkest green along her back and palest across her belly. Golden spots marked her wings, and her haunches, with faint gold barring across her limbs. Her son inherited only one such marking at the end of his nose. She had no black mottling. The black markings her son inherited from his father were little more than speckles as a hatchling, though they’d grow more pronounced with age.

The hatchling came to a stop, shadows flickered in his vision. He recalled glimpses of a sleek black dragon from his earliest days.

Where was…Father…?

Something…happened…

The world flickered again. The horizon seemed smudged. Though the hatchling’s eyes were open, when he thought of his father the world looked as though he could not stop blinking. Barely perceived shadows darted across his vision and he tried to blink them away. Then the world was clear again, and father was once more forgotten.

“Momma, catch me!” The hatchling bound on again, playing with his mother.

The hatchling sprinted down a steep hill. Layers of soft grass and green moss coated it, dotted with gray-blue sage and rare red heathers. The hatchling’s forepaws clipped one another and sent him into a head over tail stumble. Instinctively he pulled his wings tight to protect them as he toppled the rest of the way down, stomach lurching and tail flopping about.

“Wheeeeeeee!” He came to a stop in a small, green scaled heap. Before his mother even had time to worry about him, he untangled his limbs and jumped back to his paws. The hatchling grinned up at his mother as she trotted down the hill. “I’mma do that again!”

“No you aren’t,” Mother said, laughing. The green scaled dragoness wove between several misshapen boulders dotted with yellow lichen. She dropped her wedge shaped head, copper eyes shining with love as she gently picked her son up in her jaws. Carrying her hatchling, she padded across the moor towards the sound of burbling water. The scent of it clung to the air, fresh and inviting. She set the youngling back down on a patch of lush velvet moss that lined the bank of the stream. “We were coming this way to get a drink, not so you could go rolling yourself down the hills again.”

The little dragon giggled to himself. He bounced on his paws a few times. The green ground felt springy and soft. Tiny red bulbs atop slender crimson tendrils stuck up from the moss. He flattened a few down beneath his paws, and watched with the sort of wonder only a child could truly possess as they sprang back up.

“Look, momma!” He stepped on another tendril, and then moved his paw to show his mother how the red stalk stood right back up again.

His mother smiled, and licked his face a few times. Then she gestured with her slender green muzzle towards the fresh, clean water that ran just beyond the edge of the moss. “Drink your water, Alv.”

Alvaranox nodded. A deep, burning thirst suddenly filled him. He padded to the edge of the stream. He lowered his head, sniffed at the water. It smelled clean, fresh, delightful. The water always smelled good here. He lapped at it. It was cold and pure, and quenched the thirst the young dragon must have built in all his play. When his little belly was full of water and his throat no longer burned, he lifted his head. Tiny beads of water clung to his pebbly green scales. He licked them off, smiling. “It’s good!”

Alvaranox’s mother smiled at him, nodding her agreement. She lowered her own head and lapped at the water a while. As she drank, the hatchling butted his head up against her forepaws, then nuzzled her limbs. He was soon purring, happy just to be with his mother. She was the only dragon he knew, and he loved her with all his heart. He knew of nothing else beyond the moors, nothing but happiness here with his mother.

His belly rumbled as the water that sat in it brought on a hunger pang. He smacked his mother’s paw with his own. “I’m hungry, mother! Hunt food!”

“I’m hungry too, Alv,” his mother said, licking his muzzle again. “Will you be good and stay here while I hunt us some food?”

Alvaranox peered around the area as if wondering where else he could possibly go. “Yes!”

“Alv…”

“What?” Alv cocked his head. That didn’t sound like his mother’s voice.

“Alv, you need to wake…”

“Oh, damn,” Alvaranox snapped. A very unhatchling-like thing to say.

Alvaranox slowly lifted his head from the new pillow Nylah had made for him. Sunlight streamed in through the windows of his home. It seemed after the storms had finally broken the clouds were not far behind. He blinked bleary copper eyes a few times, waiting for his vision to focus. Kirra stood next to him, wringing her hands together. He glared at her, licking his nose.

“I was having a nice dream,” he said, stretching a paw out. He smiled a little bit, letting the images from the dream linger as long as possible. “It’s strange, though. I don’t recall having my memories turned into dreams until the collar started having its hissy fits. But, I don’t mind dreaming about that. About her.”

“Alv,” Kirra said again, sharpening her voice. “I’d love to hear about your dreams later, but right now you need to get up. The Council is here to see you. They’re waiting outside.”

Alvaranox flared his spines, gnashing his teeth. “Of course they are.”

“Let me help you get your sling on.” Kirra fetched the dragon’s white cloth sling, and as he rose up, she began to tie it around his limb and neck. By now the process was second nature for both of them. “Nylah is already outside. We wanted to get them to wait a little longer, but after the attacks…”

“Yes, yes,” the dragon said, snapping his jaws. “I understand. They’re going to have to wait a little longer, though.”

“I don’t think they’re going to…”

Alvaranox lashed his tail against the wall, spines gouging the logs. “Unless they want to watch me take a piss, they will wait. If you wish put it to them in more polite terms, feel free. Otherwise that is exactly what I am going to tell them. Now give me a moment to collect myself.”

Kirra smirked a little, rubbing the golden blotch at the end of the dragon’s nose. “Alright. I’ll tell them you’ve your natural duties to attend first. They’re out in the meadow when you’re ready.”

“I liked my way better,” the dragon said, smirking at Kirra as she left.

Once Alvaranox was alone, he took a deep breath, his chest plates expanding. For a moment he simply held the air in his lungs, closing his eyes. Trust the damn Council to interrupt dreams of a better time in his life. Normally his dreams were abstract, shifting frequently. While memories might be mixed in, when he woke they rarely seemed real. Yet this dream felt like a memory from his childhood played out in full across his mind. It was not the first time he’d had such a dream lately, either. As Alvaranox let out his breath, he scratched at the collar with a wingtip talon.

“I suppose there are worse things you could make me dream about again.”

Alvaranox made his way to his water trough where he took a long drink. To his dismay the water did not taste anywhere near as pure or delicious as the water in his dream. Then again, did anything ever seem as wondrous as it did when he was a hatchling? To a child, everything was a joy. Alvaranox wondered if the water would have tasted sweeter if he was still free.

The dragon pushed his way through his makeshift front door. It would be a little while yet before he had a new front door. Alv had made it quite clear he didn’t want it to be adorned by dragons that looked drunk or constipated this time. Instead, he convinced Kirra to let the woodcarvers use her drawings as guide and inspiration. He wanted a door that depicted him as he truly was.

But that would take some time. While Alv waited, Kirra had a tradesmen create several large blankets out of well tanned animal hides stitched together. Then she had them hung over the dragon’s entryway to keep out the elements and the onlookers as well. They did not keep out sound as well as the door had, but they would do for now.

Alvaranox squinted. The bright morning sunlight hurt his eyes, and caused their copper hues to shine golden. Alvaranox gave the meadow only a cursory glance as he limped around the side of his home. Already there were far too many people gathered there for his liking. Both his current handler and his previous handler were there, plus a whole host of guards and the members of the council themselves. Wonderful. Being questioned and blamed was just the way the dragon liked to start off a morning not long after surviving an assassination attempt.

Alvaranox hobbled to his little secluded grove of trees to empty his bladder. In the process he gave a long, satisfied sigh in the hopes of making the upstanding council members feel uncomfortable. The dragon wasn’t sure if any of them could actually hear him but it was worth a try. Their embarrassment was his amusement. When he was done, he left the grove of trees but did not head straight to the meadow.

Instead, Alvaranox went to visit Stupid Fish. Someone had already come and removed the oiled tarp from the fish’s trough. Thanks to all the rain, the water nearly overflowed the barrel. Alvaranox peered inside. He lowered his muzzle, looking for the fish in the murky water. His reward was a fat, silvery whisker emerging and slapping him on the nose. Alv yelped and pulled his head back, startled.

“Good morning to you too, Fish.” The dragon pushed his foreleg into the sack of grain leaning against the trough. It was soggy, and a little slimy. He scrunched his muzzle. “Shall have to have someone bring you fresh grain. This will have to do for now.”

Alvaranox dropped the pawful of grain into the trough. It clumped together more than usual, sinking through the murky water. Before long, the fish’s broad, silver tail was swirling at the surface at the water as he began to suck clumps of grain up off the bottom of the barrel. Alvaranox watched for a moment, turning his head when the fish’s tail broke the surface and sent cold droplets splattering his face.

“Watch the damn tail, Fish.” Alvaranox snorted, lifting his spines a little.

The dragon peered around the area. Though the clouds were gone it would likely take days for the sun to dry up all the mud that remained. In the process the wet stink of old mud was starting to displace the freshness of the rain’s lingering aroma. Nearby, an area of torn sod and muddy ruts reminded the dragon he’d fallen on his belly when trying to attack the man rushing him. He’d gotten lucky. Alvaranox’s heart sank for a moment. The rules were changing.

“It isn’t fair,” the dragon said, licking his nose. “I’m supposed to be safe in my barrel, Fish. I hate this place. I hate being bound here, but at least I was safe.” The dragon’s spines sagged against his head, his frilled ears drooped. “It isn’t fair.”

Alvaranox turned away from the fish, and trudged towards the meadow. Until now it hadn’t quite sunk in that he’d been attacked in his barrel. Was it not enough that he was bound here? Forced to protect this ungrateful town for all of his days? Was it not enough that he was sent to face every danger that slunk forth from the shadows? Now the danger was coming to find him.

The dragon didn’t even know who had tried to kill him, either. When things had settled down, the guards had gathered up the bodies of the six men who gave their lives trying to slay the dragon. They did not share any distinguishing characteristics. None of them bore the silver armor or the red-edged cloaks of the dragon slayers. None of them had any kind of uniform at all, or anything else that might shed light on why they were here. They didn’t even seem to have all come from the same part of the world. Some of them had very pale skin, others quite dark. A few looked as though they’d spent their lives under a burning sun tilling fields, while one looked as though he’d spent a life indoors. Aside from their weaponry, they had little on them to help identify them.

The guards’ theory was that they’d heard that Asterryl held a wounded dragon within its walls, and wished to come and slay the beast. Perhaps they thought if they could ambush him in the night, they could kill him, butcher him, and make off with the most valuable parts before the sun rose. It seemed a stretch to the dragon himself, but he could offer no counter.

Nor would he wish to argue with any of the guards right now, not while they were grieving. They had lost two of their own in their attempts to protect the dragon. One man took an arrow through the lung, another in the throat. A third was also wounded but expected to survive. Alvaranox found himself unexpectedly sorrowful on their behalf. They had died trying to protect him. Part of the dragon felt as though if they’d just released him years ago, none of this would have happened. Yet he could not shake the feeling of guilt associated with men dying for him any more than he could shake the scales from his body.

Wet mud squelched under his forepaw as he crossed the dirt lane that lead from the town to his home. The dragon scowled. He shook his paw, brown globs flew in all directions. He tried to hobble around the worst of the mud that still caked the path. As soon as he passed through the open gateway in the willow bough fence that ringed his meadow, he paused to wipe his paws on the grass. Brown streaks marked the green carpeting.

The rains brought an eruption of color to the meadow as new wildflowers bloomed everywhere. Red and orange blossoms spread in large swaths. A few spiraling yellow blooms sat atop spindly green stalks as if supervising the other flowers. Clusters of blue trumpet-shaped flowers hung from running vines that grow so swiftly Alv half-feared they‘d twine around him if he stood still too long. Alvaranox tried not to trample any of the flowers, though the various humans in his meadow were already doing just that. At least he knew they’d grow back.

When Kirra trotted up to him, the dragon noticed she’d dressed a bit more formally than usual. Technically the Council were her bosses, so she no doubt wished to make a good impression. Still, at this point if they tried to have her removed from her duties as his Handler, the dragon would demand her immediate reinstatement. He might not be able to harm anyone in this town, but he could damn sure make a mess of things and a nuisance of himself until they gave into his demands.

“Don’t you look fancy,” Alvaranox said, lowering his head to nose at Kirra’s silver blouse. Hints of black threading in knotted patterns hemmed the sleeves.

“Don’t you start,” Kirra said, fidgeting with her skirt a little. It was the opposite of her blouse, black with silver spirals that ran around the waist, and the hem. She lifted a foot, showing off the mud caking her black leather shoe. “Brand new shoes, and all this mud is already ruining them. Trying to keep it off my skirt, though.”

“Perhaps you should go naked, then.” The dragon grinned at her, lifting his spines.

Kirra’s face reddened a little, and she poked the dragon between his nostrils. “Mind out of the gutter, you dirty beast. Besides, that’s not the sort of impression I’d like to make on the Council. Now come on. You’re already late.”

Kirra turned and stalked off towards the group, wiping her muddy shoes off on the grass a few times. Her skirts swished around her ankles. As the dragon followed Kirra, he watched the sway of her hips. The dragon knew he’d been stuck in so-called civilization too long when even the haunches of a human woman caught his attention. He licked his nose, and followed after her.

“I cannot be late if I do not have an appointment to keep,” the dragon said as much to himself as to anyone else.

The group was gathered near the table and benches set up in the middle of the meadow. Nylah was standing in the midst of the three Council members and their bodyguards. Why a group of only three people called themselves a Council and not a Trio the dragon would never know.

Nylah was busy fielding their questions. Alvaranox was sure she was better suited to that than Kirra. Even without the added benefit of years of experience, Nylah simply never tumbled into verbal chasms Kirra could scarcely climb out of. Kirra moved to stand alongside Nylah, her hands behind her back.

Where Kirra had chosen a blouse and a skirt that to the dragon seemed suitable for dinner with someone important, Nylah had chosen the opposite look. She wore a more straight cut, long sleeved tunic in a slate gray color. Golden buttons marked it in a few places. She also wore black breeches, golden thread along the seams matched the buttons of her shirt. To the dragon Nylah’s clothing almost said yes, this is important, but I’ll still kick your asses if you give my dragon too much trouble.

Alvaranox settled down behind Kirra and Nylah, curling his spined tail around his three paws. His other front paw was held against his chest by the white-cloth sling. He cocked his wedge-shaped head, fixing copper eyes upon the council members. He expected them to immediately start peppering him with questions. Instead, they all glanced up at him, but aside from that barely even seemed to acknowledge his presence.

“And why were there not better preparations made for this sort of possibility?” The oldest of the three council members thrust his finger at Nylah. “Why were more guards not stationed at all access points leading to the dragon?”

“With due respect, Councilman Burr,” Nylah said, giving a little bow that was as sarcastic as it was formal. “Security and assignment of guards is not my responsibility, nor my duty. In fact, I had to press quite hard just to get two guards assigned to the dragon. Were my recommendations listened to immediately, this might have been preventable.”

The only female council member folded her arms across her chest, glaring at Nylah. “Well, someone has to pay for a mistake of this magnitude. Who did you file your requests for guards with?”

“Two men lost their lives,” Nylah said. The fire flickering in her polished topaz gaze could have burned the woman away in an instant. “I assure you, the mistake has been paid for. I have no interest in assigning further blame. I only wish to make sure it does not happen again.”

Alvaranox smirked to himself. It had been years since he’d seen Nylah deal with a council interrogation. If anything, she handled it with even greater aplomb and even less regard for their precious rules of decorum than before. The dragon wasn’t sure but he suspected Nylah knew they’d be coming today, and showed up ahead of time to address them in Kirra’s stead as much as possible.

Later, Alv might have to tease Nylah about coming out of retirement already.

“How long until the dragon is ready to fight again?” The Council members all turned their attention to Kirra as the question was clearly directed at her.

Kirra cleared her throat with a little growl, straightening out her blouse. She wrung her hands. “I don’t know.”

For some reason, that answer made Alvaranox smile.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” The female council member stepped towards Kirra, glaring at her. “That is unacceptable…”

“I mean, I cannot predict the date of a dragon’s complete recovery from such life threatening wounds any more than you could predict when that poor guard who took an arrow in his belly will return to active duty.” Kirra straightened her back as if drawing strength from her own words. She waved at the dragon as he sat behind her. “Every creature in the world heals at a different rate. While he is healing swifter than a man would, it is still an arduous process. A painful process, for which I would hope you would have a little more respect and understanding.”

Alvaranox flicked his frilled ears back. A strange sort of pride was growing in his chest, and he quickly tried to tamp down on it. There was no way in hell he was going to be proud of Kirra for anything. As the group questioned her a little more, the dragon turned his attention to glaring down at them and looking dour. Dragons were good at looking dour, he thought.

As the Council continued to quiz Nylah and Kirra, the dragon found himself growing increasingly irritable. He did not like being treated as though he were not there. Not one question was directed at him. They scarcely even looked at him unless Nylah or Kirra pointed him out, or indicated one of his wounds or scars. At first he thought they were simply ignoring him to make a point. But soon, the dragon began to feel it was worse than that. Did they not even realize he could understand them? They kept referring to him as “the dragon.” Alvaranox felt like a guard dog sitting patiently, unaware that its owners were discussing its fate.

Alvaranox was perfect aware, and getting tired of it.

“Why do you ignore me?” The dragon asked, cutting off Nylah in mid-sentence. His two handlers glanced up at him, and Alvaranox caught a hint of amusement flicker in both green and hazel eyes. “I am not an animal, you know.”

“What…do you mean, Dragon?” The oldest member looked up at the dragon.

Alvaranox took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. He took the momentary quiet to size up all three council members as he glared down at them. The two males were nearly opposites. One was quite old, with white hair and a thin frame, though his gaze remained sharp rather than rheumy. The other seemed little older than Kirra, with dark hair, bleary eyes and a body that spoke of too many late nights enjoying the privileges of position. The female was somewhere in the middle, not quite as old as Nylah, piercing eyes like a hawk. From what the dragon could tell she seemed to take the best care of herself out of the three of them. Each wore similar clothing, gold and blue. Tunics and breeches for the men, a dress for the woman. All three had Asterryl’s emblem emblazoned upon their shoulders. Each also had a couple of bulky, armor-clad bodyguards standing behind them.

“I mean,” Alvaranox said, hissing through sharp teeth. “That I am weary of being discussed like an animal. I am not an animal. I think, I reason, I fear, I hope, and if it were not abundantly clear, I speak.” The dragon settled back against his tail, lifting his good forepaw to tap the collar around his neck with an unsheathed claw. “Believe it or not, I also yearn for freedom. So long as you keep me bound here to your town, enslaving me to its protection, I would appreciate it if you would show me a little more respect. I would also appreciate it if you would show my handlers more appreciation for all their hard work.”

Alvaranox set his paw back down, licking his nose. He waited just until one of the Council members opened their mouth to speak, and then cut them off. “Let me answer a few of your questions, idiotic as they may be. I will be ready to fight for your town again as soon as my body is healed. No, I do not know how long that will take, but I assure you I am even more weary of days spent in agony than you are of wondering when I will take to the skies again. While you were busy berating some servant boy for serving your soup that’s a little too cold, I was busy trying not to bleed to death. So stop asking when I’ll be ready to fight!”

The dragon flared his wings and snapped his jaws. All three council members stepped back, glancing at each other. At the same time, their bodyguards stepped forward. Alvaranox knew he couldn’t actually harm them. They likely knew the same thing. But he did not mention it. A little momentary fear would do all of them a little good.

“For your next question,” the dragon said, softening his tone. “No, I have no idea who attacked me, why they attacked me, or how they knew I was in this town, wounded. I am sure it was common knowledge now that Asterryl has a guardian dragon, and in the time since I was wounded, no doubt knowledge of that event got out as well. The people who actually wounded me may be dragonslayers, but that is merely a guess.”

Alvaranox pinned his ears back against his head as painful memories drifted behind his copper eyes. “They set up an ambush for me, and clearly knew I would arrive to protect those blasted ruins on Asterryl’s behalf. They all had the same uniform, and armor, and when I can fly again, I will return to see if any of it is left. If it hasn’t already been made off with, it will make an excellent trophy. Whoever attacked me last night probably infiltrated your town separately, and got together after dark to slink over here. The collar notified me as soon as they became an active threat to me.” The dragon rubbed at the collar again, hissing. “It had been giving me other little warnings before that, but…”

“Why didn’t you respond immediately then?” The question came from the youngest council member, getting some of his courage back. “Those guards might still be alive if you hadn’t hesitated.”

“Perhaps you should have the collar removed, and slapped around your neck for a while.” Alvaranox growled, lashing his spined tail at the earth. Chunks of sod and grass sprayed across the meadow. “We will see how quick you are to respond to nebulous, distant warnings after years spent trying to forget the damn thing. Do not forget, human, that I consider this thing a curse your town has inflicted upon. You may see dragons as monsters, you may see me as a monster, but I do not see myself that way. I am a creature who longs for freedom, yet knows he will never have it. So forgive me if I am not so quick to rouse to every tiny little nudge the collar may give my mind. Perhaps next time instead of trying to rest and heal, you would prefer it if jumped to my feet at the tiniest cautionary sound, ran around like a female in her first heat looking to get mounted, and ended up injuring myself even worse in the process. Then you can all come back and ask how much longer I’ll be healing.”

A silence settled over the meadow. For the Council it was uncomfortable. For the dragon, it was amusing. He felt as though he’d just won a little victory against his oppressors. Alvaranox decided that meant it was time to end this little meeting for now. No doubt they’d want another one in the future, and if they had any sense they would schedule it in advance. Attempt to speak with the dragon when he was in a better mood.

“On that note,” the dragon said, rising back to his paws. “This interrogation is over. My handlers have done nothing but an exemplary job, and I have done everything for you short of literally giving my life. I came terrifyingly close to that, as well. Until you think up some questions designed to help instead of blame, we are done.”

“Alv, I think…” Kirra spoke up, but Alvaranox folded his wing over her.

“In summation,” the dragon said, snorting. “We are all doing the best we can, and I will fight when my body is healed. Assign more guards, order travelers and newcomers to be kept under careful watch, and order an investigation into where those dead men came from and why they wanted to kill me.” Alvaranox grinned down at Nylah, folding his other wing over her as well. “That was easy. Perhaps they should make me a councilman instead.”

Alvaranox turned slowly, guiding the two woman with his wings. He hoped it looked as though he was dragging them away from there. Yet as far as he was concerned, he was rescuing the two of them from a Council who seemed to wish to do nothing more than find someone to berate and belittle. It was hardly the fault of the dragon and his handlers that people had come to kill him. And it was unfair of those in power to try and shift the blame onto those responsible for the dragon’s wellbeing.

The very idea of it made Alvaranox growl. As he limped off with Nylah and Kirra sheltered beneath his wings, he called back. “Oh, and Council? Until you treat my handlers and myself with the respect we deserve…” Alvaranox hoisted up his tail, flashing his green dragon testicles. “You can all kiss these!”