At the cusp of evening on their journey to the next township, Leoric took over the reigns of the wagon. Baldir had been hitting the sauce again, sucking the last precious droplets of whatever beverage he’d lashed to the wagon from his pocket flask. Most people carried a skin of water at their side. He carried a metal skin. Every time he opened it, Leoric’s eyes watered from the strength of it.

“I don’t think that much liquor is good for you, or our passengers,” Leoric said as his brow folded over his eyes.

“Trust me, ahm worse sober,” He said as he slouched low in his seat and closed his eyes.

“Was it sobriety or drink that landed you with that orc woman?” Leoric asked.

Baldir opened an eye, cut it towards Leoric and brought the corner of his mouth into a tight grin.

“You’re awful hung up on that, aren’t ya,” He said with a chuckle that made Leoric feel dirty.

“I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW!” Leoric said.

Baldir let a smug grin spread across his face from the depths of his beard and stayed silent. Leoric’s lips pursed, twisting into a grimace as trees passed them by. It was growing darker. The din of noise from the clop of their mule and the clatter of wooden wheels on dirt road overshadowed the quiet crickets chirping amidst the woods surrounding them.

“Leoric?” Baldir asked, breaking the long silence.

“What?” Leoric snapped. His mood had soured, but Baldir still wore that cocky smirk as a badge of honor.

“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t ya?”

“Fuck you.”

-

Night was upon them and they did the best they could to find a clearing to camp. They had made it to the edge of what was clearly someone’s farmland. The presence of grazed land from sheep and sporadic fencing let them know that civilization was not too far off.

Scritch was the first to emerge from the wagon as they pulled over. Her nostrils flared and eyes widened as she scanned the area for danger.

“We alright here for the night, Scritch?” Leoric asked.

“Ya,” She said before slipping off on all fours, snuffling through the grass in search of something.

“Please try to find a fowl or something. I do not care for rat,” Blast said lazily as she stretched and emerged on unsteady legs from the wagon. The ground beneath her seemed unsteady and strange as compared to the gentle sway and bump of the dragon. She walked in a strange wobbling gait, her legs out of synch.

“Y’allright there, Blast?” Baldir asked as he pulled the canvas and stakes from the back of the wagon to open out the canvas into a canopy. The weather was nice enough this time of year for them to camp with the sides open.

They bedded a blanket and feed down for the mule and worked on starting a small fire.

Leoric rummaged around for his staff and set off towards the woods.

“Getting some wood for the fire,” He said before staking his staff and reciting a thick and guttural series of words that were somehow more consonants than speech.

In a fluid meld of light and space, the form of Leoric stretched, spilling forward as his hands reached for the ground, thickening, billowing and twisting until fur rippled down a broad back. The sigils of his skin, tattoos snaking over his body from head to toe glowed as they reseated themselves over his skin, dappling his new fur. Where once Leoric had stood, now a great bear plodded silently away, ambling into the trees.

“H’uh,” Scritch said as she watched the display.

“Neat,” Baldir said as he patted over the mule, giving it the requisite amount of attention and physical contact.

“How’s that dinner coming, scritch?” Baldir shouted to her. She raised up a hand with a limp bird of some variety flopping in her grasp.

“It’s dead!” She said, her eyes wide with excitement.

“It sure is…”

“I think that’s the point,” Blast said as she snaked her way through the grass, sniffing about.

Scritch came up to the camp and deposited a rumpled grouse at Baldir’s feet before jetting back off into the same spot she was just at.

“Found crunchy eggs,” She said happily.

“How crunchy?” Blast asked.

“Any crunchier and they’d be chirping!”

Baldir grimaced.

“Crunchy,” He muttered, letting the word play across his tongue. Crunchy normally had such positive associations. Hearing the phrases coming from Scritch’s mouth in relation to food and the texture it possessed was slowly turning him against certain descriptors. Their reptilian nature described food in terms of texture and sound over taste itself.

The thought of bones splintering in his mouth made him feel uncomfortable, while the same thought for Blast and Scritch seemed to be enjoyable. It must have been the marrow within, rich with nutrients.

Scritch made a scampering run back, stooped low with her tail out behind her, flicking to keep her balance. In her hands was an assortment ten or so of speckled eggs that she laid beside the bird. Baldir looked over them and shook one. Indeed, they were most likely to be ‘crunchy.’

Blast snuffled up to the pile, using her front claws to rake and tap over the eggs eagerly. She pulled one away from the pile and turned her attention back to the rest. She scraped and tapped until she pulled another out, then a third. She nosed them away from the pile and curled around them defensively.

Baldir looked squeamishly away as she crunched and slurped at the contents with a fierce voracity that reminded him just how vicious dragons truly were.

Scritch returned with a few more birds, eagerly piling one ruffled grouse after another onto the pile. Baldir could barely see, but Scritch seemed to be easily navigating by smell or sight alone. She did grow up in a cave, after all.

When Leoric returned a few minutes later, his great bear feet took unsteady steps, arms filled with dry crumpled wood. He threw the wood down and shifted back into his natural form looking worn. He wheezed a few breaths as he made his way towards the wagon to sit next to the warm sprawl of their snoozing mule. He was warm and didn’t seem to mind Leoric’s small form using him as a prop.

Baldir set about lighting the fire as scritch returned, waiting patiently for her turn with the eggs. Blast looked up from the contents of the egg with yolk dripping off her snout. Scritch licked her maw but remained silent and patient. Blast chuffed and used her tail to swipe a single egg towards scritch. She patted her feet excitedly on the ground before taking the morsel into her mouth whole. She crunched down and the sound was a cruel squelch as the contents pooled at the rim of her mouth.

Leoric had his face trained on them as the flames began to light the area.

“Well, can’t unsee that,” Leoric said as he looked on with horror.

“How do you want me to prepare these?” Blast asked, shaking a bird at them.

“I’ll take the big one. You two may have the small ones. Do with them as you please, but I may want the heads,” Blast said demurely.

“Blast gets the big one and crunchy neck pieces. You can have the two small ones,” Scritch said with an excited chuff.

“What about yourself?” Baldir asked.

“Blast will share!”

“No, I won’t,” She said.

Scritch wilted a little.

“Save the livers for them, too,” Leoric said and baldir nodded as he pulled out his game knife and started cleaning the birds. Blast walked over to grab the big one with her mouth. It was almost as big as she was, but she walked backwards with short jerking steps to drag it back to where she sat near Scritch.