Two days after Mason managed to kill three of the terror birds, he was hiding on the beach of terror bird island again. His stomach was full, his wounds mostly healed, and his mood vastly improved.

It's like a game! Kill all the small birds to get strong enough to kill the bigger ones, and finish with the boss! Grinning, he stared at King Peacock, as he decided to name it. You just stay right there! I'll be ready for you after I thin your flock a bit!

Darting around the boulders, and across the pebbles and stones of the beach, Mason hoped his plan would work. He was going to do the same thing as before; catch something, make a racket, flee, and hopefully draw some of the birds with him. What was that called again? Kiting? No, that was something else.

Instead of going in half-assed again, he skirted along the edge of the forest, moving from one side of the moon-shaped island to the next. At each end, there was a rocky outcrop without any cover, leaving him with no safe way to check what was at the hollowed-out side of the island. There was nothing but mangroves, moss, and a few dangerous looking mushrooms. The green and orange, bulbous things were scattered across the deadwood and exuded a scent that made Mason stay far away. Definitely, not edible.

Having made sure that there were no unexpected problems, he snuck across the root covered mangrove floor. He quickly found a good hiding spot, a low, thick branch that hung above a less dense area of roots. Anything that would move below would be easy to jump.

Let's hope I don't have to wait for hours again! He crouched down and prayed, to no god in particular, for abundant prey. Thirty minutes later, another centipede, smaller than the first but still enormous, slithered along the edge of a tree just within his vision. It wasn't close enough to jump, and it didn't move towards him. Cursing, he carefully climbed down the tree and made his way closer to his prey.

He managed to sneak up, almost right above the black slithering monstrosity, without alerting it. As soon as it moved below his root, he jumped down, aiming for the spot just behind its head. He was twice as heavy as the centipede, but it started bucking so wild that it almost tossed him off. Biting in the back of its neck, caused screeching and whining like metal on metal, and Mason felt like he bit on a solid piece of iron.

The centipede curled upon itself with a sudden motion that ripped it from Mason's sore mouth. Free, it uncurled immediately and turned, trying to wrap its disgustingly slimy, many-limbed body around Mason. Feeling the small, barbed feet on his scales, Mason attempted to grab the thing's tail, but it was so slippery, he couldn't get a grip.

Feeling the body slither around his back and begin tightening its grip, Mason panicked. He didn't care about his previous plans anymore and tried looking for a way to scorch the thing, but it was so close around him that he would hit himself. Rearing up, he slammed his back against roots, trying to crush the centipede. Something cracked below him, but the coils wrapped even tighter, and he kept slamming himself against the roots.

As he felt the thing's grip slowly weaken, he saw something from the corner of his eye. Another centipede was slithering their way, one bigger than the first one. Not going to happen! Growling deep in his throat, Mason rammed the one on his back against the roots before taking a deep breath.

A column of fire struck the incoming centipede, causing its front part to start bubbling immediately, with a twitch, the centipede buried its head in the soil. Loud screeching came from the top of the mountain, showing that the terror birds had seen the sudden fire.

Ignoring the centipede that was now bucking and rampaging, in what he hoped were its death throes, Mason slammed his back against a root. One end of the centipede loosened, and he bit into it, ripping and tugging. As he did, he saw corrosion on the scales where the centipede touched him. The previously shiny gold surface was dulled and scratched, small pockmarks covering most of them.

Feeling disgusted and filthy, Mason ripped the centipede from him and grabbed the front end with his claws. He tried ripping the plates open, which took all of his strength and awoke the dazed creature. Dropping the plate, he rammed his claw inside the wound, trying to ignore the disgusting sensation. With a shudder, the centipede stopped moving.

Before Mason could feel victorious, the sounds of flapping wings came from above. He winced and looked up through the thick cover of leaves. Dozens of hell birds swirled around in the sky, staring at him with their creepy yellow eyes. Seriously, can anything else go wrong? He hadn't finished the thought when he heard something drag itself out of the mud. The larger of the two centipedes, it's front halfway melted, and its eyes gone was heading towards him.

Well, it's not like it matters anymore! Mason hissed, before sending out another burst of flame that torched the centipede. It reared up, before slamming down in the mud, motionless. Turning his full attention to the birds, Mason wondered if he should grab the smaller centipede and get out. Looking back at the beach, he saw there were terror birds there, sitting on the boulders and staring at him. He would never get out that way, and up wasn't an option.

"You know what? Come down here if you want me that bad, you lot of overgrown chickens!" Staring at the birds, Mason got the centipede and ripped more plates of its back to get to the meat. With utter disregard for the birds, he started chewing. Let's see you come down here! I'll burn your tail feathers off!

--

When night finally fell, turning the shadowy area below the trees pitch black, the birds finally left for their mountain.

Mason stared at their retreating shapes until they grew small and were no more than glowing coals on the dark mountainside. From now on, I am going out hunting during the night! The fact that living things seemed to glow red to him made him wonder if red Dragons were nocturnal predators.

He wondered about many things, sitting on the roots and slowly devouring both of the centipedes. For instance, why did the centipedes taste like crap, but the birds like poultry? And why did eating the birds make him grow so much while eating the centipedes did little more than fill his stomach?

I wonder if Jake knows? Probably not. He shook his head and moved towards the beach. It was time to head back to the volcano island; the abundance of red energy should heal his damaged scales. Or so he hoped.

-Two weeks later -

"Get back here!' Mason's roared as he shot forward, chasing three fleeing terror birds. Behind him was the small volcanic island, four unmoving bird shapes lying scorched on the ground.

In the two weeks since his scuffle with the centipedes, he ate almost half the flock of terror birds and grown a third of his previous size. His speed had increased even more, and he was quickly gaining on the birds. A few meters from the first, he opened his mouth and 'burped' quickly. Like a rocket, a ball of fire and energy shot through the air and cannoned into the bird's back. With a screech, it spiraled down to the sea.

Mason ignored it and quickly overtook the other two. If he could bring them down, this would mark the first time none managed to flee back! It proved almost too easy, the addition to the fast-moving fireballs to his arsenal made him the perfect air to air killer if he said so himself.

He dove after the last of the birds, snagging it in his hind legs just before it would disappear into the deep dark waters. The bird's body skidded across the surface before he managed to gain altitude.

Feeling great, he headed back to his island, dropping the dead bird next to one of the others. With practiced ease, he used a thin torrent of flame to burn off the feathers. Then he slowly roasted the first dead terror bird. When the juices flowed freely, and a heavenly scent spread, he salivated and ripped a large portion of meat from one of the wings.

No matter how much I eat, I'm always hungry! I hope this won't stay like this forever or I'll be the scourge of the land. He grinned, meat juices running down the bottom part of his jaw. Absentmindedly, he scratched at the scales on his flank, pulling off some small crusts and revealing healed scales. Most were healed, but he could still see the place the centipede had harmed him. He did notice that as he grew, the scales became more durable, and the birds barely left scratched on the thicker ones on his back.

When he finished all the birds, not even leaving their bones, he glided into the volcano. He needed sleep, and he slept best next to a pool of lava. As he curled up on the lowest ridge inside the volcano, the heat permeated through his body, and combined with his full belly, he fell into a pleasant slumber.