The cart was a breeze to steer and their mule moved joylessly forward. Baldir stared at the ass end of it for longer than he wanted, each mile dragging on in an upsetting and dull oblivion.

Blast had taken a perch at the top of the wagon, poised regally as she watched the countryside roll by.

“We’re stopping at the next village,” Baldir said sternly as the cart jostled and Scritch yelped,

“That’s all well and good, but Scritch somehow managed to procure someone’s enchanted pouch and I don’t intend to be in town when they figure it out,” Leoric said sternly.

Baldir’s surly look turned into w wide-eyed pout. Color drained from his face. Someone wealthy enough to own an enchanted pouch was likely wealthy enough or tied close enough to nobility to do some serious harm.

“Scritch? How did you get that bag?” Baldir finally asked.

“I asked to buy the armor, gave him my gold and he kicked me and then he turned to talk to someone so I took my armor and the bag to carry it in,” Scritch said as she emerged from the back of the wagon. She climbed over the back of the seat and wound her way up over the top of the wagon to sit next to Blast who gave her a withering, albeit stiff, look.

“She stole a noble’s enchanted pack,” Baldir said as he urged the mule forward.

“I swear if you lick me again, I will bide my time and ichor until the day I can roast you alive. You shall be the first kobold I ever eat,” Blast said angrily.

“I wouldn’t test her, Scritch. She sounds serious,” Leoric said as he settled into the seat of the wagon.

“I’m itchy and uncomfortable,” Blast said.

Scritch made a sympatheitc noise in her throat before scrambling to pat down Blast’s head. She slipped away from her with a hiss and scrambled in a near-slither down the side of the wagon and into Leoric’s lap defensively. She hissed up at scritch and let loose a series of grumbling noises.

“Want some dragonweed?” Leoric asked before offering her his pouch.

Blast stuck her head into his pouch and let loose a soft huff, but did not remove her head.

“This is my lair now,” Blast said miserably.

“Aww, what’s wrong?” Leoric asked.

“I’m itchy and upset,” Blast said with a huff.

The wagon trundled along at the pace of the mule. She jostled and grumbled.

“She sick?” Baldir asked, cutting his eyes with a surly expression.

Scritch peeked over the edge of the wagon and blinked slowly.

“Want me to scratch you?” Leoric asked, reaching a hand up towards her.

“Yes. I command you to give me the scratches,” Blast said before huffing into the bag. Her chittering growling tones of draconic came out muffled and simpering from within the confines of his bag.

Leoric stroked down her back and used his nails to scratch generously over her thick hide. It was still hatchling fine and drab. From what he knew of red dragons, they were normally brighter, more vibrant and softer scaled.

As he scaled his nails from the top of her neck down to her tail, he noticed the skin pulling in a strange way. Her back leg began to kick and twitch.

“Yes, keep doing that. This pleases me,” Blast said as she made a happy clicking noise in her throat.

As Leoric began to scratch down her back once more, her skin peeled away in a paperfine sheet that made her draw her head out of the pouch of dragonweed indignantly. She rustled, shook her head and fidgeted up to see her shedding back.

“She’s shedding,” Scritch said as Blast wriggled free of the sheets of her old skin. Leoric grabbed a handful of the skin and saw the brilliant red of Blast’s new scales shining through.

Leoric collected it in his hands and marveled at the pinkish grey hued sheaths of skin that she wriggled her way out of. She shuddered and looked up with a glare to Scritch as she peeked over the roof of the wagon.

“Ohhh, THAT’S WHY SHE WAS LICKING YOU,” Leoric said as Blast shook herself and turned in a lazy circle in Leoric’s lap. Blast shot him a glare. Scritch looked proud of herself. She was still wearing her pilfered pack.

“Is dragon skin worth anything?” Baldir asked.

“Should be. I know an herbalist in the next down. They’ve bound to have a price for this.

“There a good bar there?”

“Maybe? I know there’s an inn that serves up some good ale.”

“It’ll have to do,” Baldir said.

When they arrived to the next down, Scritch scampered around the wagon a few times as blast stretched languidly in the evening cool. The two were tired in the evening dusk and cuddled up in the recesses of their Caravan and watched as Baldir disembarked.

“Welp, see you two fools come morning,” Baldir announced. They watched as Baldir leaped off of the wagon and jauntily walked into the tavern and put his hands on his hips.

Leoric shook his head and pulled the wagon to station and procured some feed for the mule.

“Give it good food. It shall be a fine meal for me one day,” Blast said as Leoric paid for feed and hay.

“Your word is my command, master,” Leoric said as he went about setting up the back of the caravan for an early night’s retiring.

Among the small retrofits they had done when they bought the wagon, Baldir had procured a small cookfire pit and filled it with coal.

Blast leaped into the dead coals and spit little sparks of fire into it as she turned in lazy circles. The fire crept up slowly around her. Scritch curled up next to the pit into a small ball with her tail curled up over her nose. Her snores sounded like soft little squeaks.

A great ruckus sounded across the street and Leoric slipped his head out the front of the wagon. Blast raised her head and huffed indignantly. Blast opened one eye and looked to Leoric. Both she and blast stuck their heads out with Leoric and the sight that beheld them was a strange one.

An enormous woman of great proportions both in height and girth was roaring triumphantly. In her arms before her was Baldir, red-faced and grinning. He was easily less than half her size, and many shades less green. She had glorious black hair, braided with bones and skin the color of mown grass.

Baldir seemed staggering drunk, floppy in her arms and she equally so, staggering contentedly off.

“Baldir! You alright, man?” Leoric shouted out to him.

Baldir looked up from his stupor, grinning wide. He gave Leoric a thumb’s up and disappeared with her.

“Well then. We shall see him come morning,” Leoric said.

“Where did Baldir go?” Scritch asked, her eyes wide and tail flicking with curiosity.

“Ah, he’s seeing to an appointment, I guess,” Leoric said with visible discomfort.

Blast’s lips curled into a strained look of disgust.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Scritch said quietly.

“I do, and I’m disgusted,” Blast said before going back to her small warmer bed.

Leoric leaned his head to watch his fading image and pulled back into the cabin with a bewildered, yet impressed, expression. Scritch looked to him expectantly and Leoric looked around for something to distract her with.

“Want some happy grass?” Leoric offered with a strained grin.

She cocked her head, blinked one eye, then the other.

“Okay,” She said shrilly.