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Chapter Twenty Six

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Revaramek stalked Kurekka around a cask of wine sitting on the grass. Fading sunlight painted the gryphon's red-brown feathers in burnt golden fire. The gryphon's feathered tail flicked and swished, and Revaramek's eyes darted back and forth, following the motion. The green dragon growled low in his throat, his spiny, gold-tinged frills pinned back against his head. Kurekka strolled another wide circle around the barrel, and Revaramek followed him, waggling his haunches.

“Stop tempting him to pounce you again!" Chir'raal hissed at them, flaring his black-barred wings. “If you two idiots break that cask and spill all that wine, I'm going to kick both your asses!"

Kurekka cocked his head, ruffling his feathers. “If you're going to call me names, I'm not going to share my wine with you."

“Your wine?" Chir'raal snorted. “I'm the one who stole it in the first place."

“And I'm the one who labeled it, catalogued it, and stashed it away. You'd have forgotten we even had it if not for me."

“No, I'd have drank it already if not for you!" Chir'raal waved his paw at the cask. “You're the one who insists on saving things like this."

“Yes, for special occasions! So we can enjoy them with company."

Chir'raal cocked his head, giving the unopened cask a baleful glare. “And yet here it sits, un-enjoyed."

“I told you, we'll open it when the other two join us." Kurekka opened a wing, and brushed crimson flight feathers over the old barrel. “Now complaining, or you're going to go un-enjoyed."

“Like you could keep your paws off me." Chir'raal clacked his beak, then glanced at the dragon. “And how come he's already drunk?"

Revaramek blinked. He wasn't drunk. Well, not completely. He flashed the black and gray gryphon a smile. “We found a bottle of spirits in the barn while you were hunting that extra deer for Mirelle."

Kurekka warbled. “I was going to save some for you, Chir'raal, but Mister Pouncey Scales here drank half of it before I could pry it away from his lizard paws."

Revaramek glanced down at his forelegs. “I don't have lizard paws."

Chir'raal growled. “And what about the other half?"

Kurekka squawked laughter. “I had to drink that to deal with all your grump!"

Snarling, Chir'raal rose up to all fours, wings spread. “I'll show you grump!"

“Grump?" Revaramek cocked his head. “Is that what you call your-AAACK!" The dragon yelped when Kurekka whirled around and pounced him. He stumbled backwards, then fell to the earth with the red-brown gryphon atop him. “No fair! I was distracted!"

“Then my gambit has succeeded!" Kurekka batted at him with his paws, laughing. “The tables have turned! Now have at thee, lizard!"

Revaramek squirmed and twisted beneath the gryphon, laughing. His tail thumped the earth and coiled behind them as he bore the gryphons' blows. Claws sheathed, he struck back, battering at Kurekka with his paws. He flailed his forelegs, knocking the gryphon's front limbs around, then tried to smack him across the beak. Kurekka squawked and floundered in a vain attempt to retaliate against the scaled creature beneath him.

Chir'raal flopped back down onto his haunches, shaking his head. “And you wondered why I didn't want to join your little slap fight."

“We're not having a slap-AWWRRKK!" Kurekka squawked when Revaramek landed a solid blow against the side of his head. The impact knocked him off balance and he lurched off the dragon.

Revaramek grabbed the gryphon and rolled him over onto his back, with Kurekka's wings splayed out beneath him. He plopped onto the gryphon's belly, making him wheeze. While the gryphon tried to collect himself, Revaramek snatched his beak in a paw. Kurekka tried to twist his head away, and Revaramek unsheathed a single claw, grinning at his captive.

“Claw torture!"

Kurekka got his beak open enough to spit a few muffled words. “Don't…you…even!"

“Too late!" Revaramek tapped his claw tip against the end of the gryphon's beak. The impact made Kurekka twitch, and Revaramek did it again.

“NNRRRF! STOP IT!"

Cackling, Revaramek tap-tap-tapped his claw against the hardest part of the gryphon's beak. The clicking sound sent shivers through Kurekka. Each tap made his wings twitch and his feathers ruffle and fluff. He squirmed and wriggled in a vain attempt to free himself from what Revaramek was certain was a most insidious torment.

“Raawwrkk! So…annoying! Stop!"

“It's almost a shame I'm not a villain!" Revaramek switched paws, holding the gryphon's beak in the other and tapping a claw against the opposite side. “I'd be so good at it!"

“GAAAAH! So…obnoxious! It's rattling…my skull! Chir'raal…help!"

“Oh, I would." Chir'raal made a show of inspecting his paw pads. “But it seems I'm so filled with grump I can't even be bothered to get back to my feet."

“Revaramek!" Mirelle's voice echoed across the valley. “What are you doing to that poor creature?"

Revaramek jerked his head up, spines lifted. Mirelle strode across the grass, with Enora a little ways behind her, just leaving her house. Mirelle now wore clothes that looked vaguely familiar, a green blouse and skirt, both hemmed in gold. Revaramek wondered if he'd once seen Enora in them. The green shade and gold trim made for a pleasant contrast against Mirelle's dark olive skin. Black hair rustled around her face in the breeze. In one hand, Mirelle carried a book, and in the other, a large pewter mug.

As Mirelle neared him, Revaramek looked her over. “You look like a mossy nymph in those green clothes."

Mirelle blinked and stared at him. “I don't even know how to begin unpacking that."

Revaramek glanced at her feet. She'd put her pointy toed boots back on. “I see you're wearing your weaponry again, so I hope you'll take it as a compliment."

Mirelle peered down at her boots, nudging one pointed toe against the grass. “Might as well be prepared when dealing with male beasts, eh? Even if you're the only one I'm likely to use them on." She gestured with her mug at Kurekka. “Now what are you doing to this poor gryphon?"

Revaramek curled his neck to peer down at his fluffy captive. “He pounced me, Mirelle, I'm only retaliating."

Mirelle rolled her eyes. “Yes, I'm sure you're as innocent as a newborn kitten."

“I am!" Revaramek flared his wings, and when Kurekka tried to wriggle free, he snatched up his beak again. “And I was doing this!" He tapped his claw sharply against the gryphon's beak, drawing a muffled squawk and another round of furious squirming. “See? He hates it!" Revaramek cackled and tapped his claw a few more times.

Kurekka flailed his paws at the dragon. “Cut it out you scaled monstrosity!"

Mirelle turned towards the black and gray gryphon. “Aren't you supposed to be helping your lover?"

Chir'raal flexed his wings. “Not until he decides to share his wine with the rest of us."

“Wine?" Mirelle walked to the cask and set her mug atop it. “Oooh, is that what's in here? That sounds like just what I need." She picked her mug back up and tilted her head back, tipping the mug up till a few red droplets dripped onto her lips. She licked them, and then gave a labored sigh. “Cause this is clearly empty."

“Mirelle!" Revaramek gasped, and twisted his head around to peer at her, his spines half-lifted. Her face did look a little more flushed than usual. And he hadn't even embarrassed her yet. “Are you drunk?"

“Well…" Mirelle stared into her empty mug. “Gray area."

“Ooooh!" Revaramek rubbed his forepaws together. “I've never seen you drunk before! Wait, was that a whole mug of wine?"

Mirelle shrugged and tossed the mug down. “It might have been." She turned and shook her finger at the dragon. “It wasn't that big a mug. And I only had a few…I think." She scrunched her face. “So, you going to open that cask, or what?"

“That's what I keep asking!" Chir'raal thumped his paw against the grassy ground, hissing. “I'm starting to feel like I'm the only one here who hasn't been drinking yet. I'm supposed to be the first one to start drinking!"

“Fine, fine!" Kurekka laid his head back against the ground, huffing. His red-brown feathered tail twitched across the grass. “We'll open it as soon as this fat sack of scales gets off of me!"

Revaramek tilted his head, smirking at the captive gryphon. “I have a fat sack-"

“Speaking of which!" Mirelle thrust her book towards the dragon's hind end. “If you really want to get him off of you, just-"

“Mirelle, shouldn't you eat some food?" Revaramek snapped his jaws, cutting her off. No sense letting Mirelle teach his other friends all her dirty tricks. If they all started doing that to him he'd never have the upper hand on anyone. “Can't have just wine in your belly!"

Mirelle pressed her hand to her stomach, grimacing. “Actually, you make a good point."

“Yes, he does!" Enora called out as she neared the group, smiling. “You see? Every so often even our dear overlord here gets a bright idea."

“Hello, Enora!" Revaramek lowered his head and stretched his neck to nuzzle her as she joined the group. She rubbed his nose, and he purred, pressing his muzzle to her hand.

“Hello, my benevolent overlord. I shall take the fact you woke from your nap and immediately started drinking and roughhousing with my boys to mean you're feeling better."

“A little less like I fell out of the sky, yes." Revaramek laughed. The drink he'd already consumed had helped with the throbbing inside him.

“Good." Enora glanced at the two gryphons. “You two did hunt some extra food, didn't you? Poor Mirelle's been trapped in my den, listening to me ramble about councils and old books and other boring things all afternoon. And she's been stuck drinking all my wine without anything to eat. So do get her some food before we get right back to drinking, won't you?"

“We got her a deer, Enora!" Revaramek flared a wing to point to the carcass in the distance. “Well…part of a deer. We ate the rest of it."

“You mean I got her a deer." Chir'raal clacked his beak.

Kurekka lifted his head from the ground. “Yes, Chir'raal, you caught the last deer, and we're all very impressed."

“Well, someone had to do it." Chir'raal turned his head to preen a wing. “You two were too busy fondling each other's-"

“They were fondling each other?!" Mirelle burst into laughter, shaking her head. “You are drunk, Revaramek."

“So are you, if you can say that without changing colors!" Revaramek licked his nose, grinning. Was she starting to slur a little? “But we were only playing with each other's-"

“I get the idea, Revaramek, you don't have to give me all the fine details." Mirelle giggled like mad, staring at the dragon and his captive gryphon. “Though, maybe after a few more drinks…"

“Tail feathers!" Revaramek hissed, his frills extended and burning.

“No, I don't think a few more drinks will make you grow feathers on your tail, Rev." Mirelle walked behind the dragon, nudging at his webbed tail spines with her boot. “You've already got these."

Revaramek grunted, curling his tail. “No, that's what I was playing with!"

“Your tail spines?"

“No, he was playing with my tail spines, and I was playing with his-"

“Balls." Chir'raal squawked raucous laughter.

“Tail feathers!" Revaramek stomped a forepaw alongside Kurekka's head.

Kurekka screeched and jerked his head away. “Watch where you're stomping! And you!" He turned his head to glare at Chir'raal. “That isn't how banter works! If you just blurt out what everyone's thinking, it ruins the joke and the moment!"

Chir'raal shrugged his wings and went right back to preening them. “Seemed funny to me."

“That's because you're a crude beast who thinks it's funny just to say 'balls'."

Chir'raal squawked again. “Awhawhawwkhah!"

“See my point? Crude."

Chir'raal pulled a feather from his wing, and spat it on the ground. “Keep it up, and you won't be getting your tail feathers played with for a while."

“Hah!" Enora laughed, thrusting her own mug in the air. Wine sloshed out of it. “Word play."

 Revaramek lowered his voice to a playful whisper. “He's talking about his balls, Enora."

Enora only laughed harder and patted Revaramek's neck. “Thank you, dear, I was so confused."

“What is this, a raunchy play for the local drunkards?" Kurekka growled and swatted at the dragon. “Will you just get your scaly ass off of me and go get Mirelle some food?"

“I have a scaly…" When everyone just stared at him, Revaramek shook himself. “Nevermind. Alright, I can do that!"

“It has to be cooked, Revaramek." Mirelle slapped her book against her palm. “So, we're going to need a fire, and-"

“Don't worry, Mirelle, I've got it covered!"

“That's actually the part that worries me."

Revaramek rose up from Kurekka, making sure to push the gryphon's head against the ground. He stepped off of him, careful of his wings. Kurekka rolled to his paws in a flash, whirled around and swatted the dragon hard enough on the haunch to leave Revaramek stinging. Revaramek yelped and hissed at the gryphon, then laughed and snapped his teeth.

“Oh, I'm going to get you back for that later!"

Kurekka shook his rump at the dragon, then trotted over to sit next to his mate. He nuzzled Chir'raal's neck, then gestured with a paw towards the cask. “If you would be so kind as to open the wine for us, my love?"

“Oh, sure, make the sober one do it."

“You're the one who's been begging for it."

“Yeah, that's one I've been doing." Chir'raal rose to his paws, then stretched his neck and snatched one of Kurekka's scarlet crown feathers in his beak. With a twist of his head he yanked the feather free, ignoring Kurekka's yelp. He spat the feather at his mate's paws. “You dropped something."

“I oughta drop you." Kurekka flattened his ears back, rubbing the back of his head with a paw. “Off a cliff."

Revaramek nosed at Mirelle, grinning. “They act just like Tavaat and Beka! Do you think your friends are a mated pair, too?"

“What?" Mirelle scrunched her face, shaking her head. “No, they're not…well…" She trailed off, furrowing her brows. “Actually…huh."

“Oh!" Revaramek leaned onto his haunches a moment to clap his forepaws together. “I was going to get you food!"

“Yes!" Mirelle poked the dragon's nose with her book. “So…do that! Cause I'm hungry. But…remember, it has to be cooked so…maybe just start a fire and I'll cook-"

“What have you got there, Mirelle?" Revaramek tapped his muzzle against the book she kept prodding him with. “Are you going to read me a story later?"

Mirelle lifted the book up, staring at it. It was bound in a blue cover with odd lettering barely visible on the spine. “This? I couldn't read this to you no matter how much I wanted to."

Revaramek scrunched his muzzle. “You can't read? That's terrible, Mirelle, you should take lessons. How do you write your menus and things at the bar?" He cocked his head, arching his neck. “Oh! Are your menus just illegible scribbles and everyone just humors you and pretends they're words?"

“What?" Mirelle gave him a confused look, then sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I can read just fine. I just can't read this."

“Why not?" Revaramek cocked his head the other way. “Oh, do you need spectacles?"

Mirelle took a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh. She turned away and walked over to Enora, who had joined Chir'raal at the cask. “And this is why I'm drinking."

Revaramek lashed his spined tail against the grass. “What, the book? Or because you lost your spectacles?"

“That too!" Mirelle called back at him. “Will you just go make a fire so I can cook my food?"

Enora glanced over, pointing a finger past the dragon. “In the fire pit, please Rev."

“I know where fires go, Enora."

“Good, then you won't be burning down any more of my sheds."

“You wanted a bonfire! You said use the woodpile!"

“Yes! Pile the wood in the fire pit! Not set it alight inside the shed!"

“I'm a dragon, Enora, and sheds are made of wood! I thought you wanted it all to burn!"

Mirelle leaned closer to Enora, whispering. Revaramek swiveled his ears and caught her words anyway. “Does he do this on purpose, or is he just…"

Enora whispered back. “I've never quite been sure."

Revaramek tossed his head, grinning. “You know you both love me." He turned away from the women, purring to himself. “I'll call you when dinner's ready."

Mirelle yelled after him. “Just make the fire! I'll do the cooking. I'm not so drunk as I can't grill a little venison. Though I'm…increasingly close."

Revaramek snorted, shaking his head. Make Mirelle do the cooking when she was trying to relax? That seemed as though it would be awfully rude of him. Surely he could cook her dinner for her. It seemed like the least he could do. After all, how hard could it be?

“How hard can it be?" Chir'raal's voice drifted across the vale. Seemed they were having a similar discussion. “I'm just going to pop it open."

“No, you can't just rip the top off." Mirelle sounded frustrated. “You have to treat a cask of wine with care. We need to tap it, and…"

“Oh, screw that. It's not going to last the night anyway."

Wood splintered and cracked, Mirelle growled in frustration, and Revaramek glanced back in time to see Chir'raal hurl the top of the cask into the distance, leaving the barrel wide open and unable to be closed. Wine dribbled down the sides of it. The gryphon ran a finger over the wood, collecting some of the droplets, then licked them away.

“There. Now it can't be closed, so we have to drink it all tonight!"

Revaramek grinned, and lifted his voice. “Better watch out, Chir'raal, she's got her pointy boots on!"

Chir'raal cocked his head, lifting his blue-speckled crown feathers. “What does that mean?"

Mirelle stomped and snarled at the dragon. “Just make the damn fire!"

“Yes, Madam Bossy Boots!"

Revaramek strode away from the group, laughing. Even after wrestling Kurekka, the dragon's body did not ache as badly as it had earlier. He still felt his sore ribs and organs shifting as he walked, but the discomfort had eased thanks to rest and drink. He craned his long neck to look himself over. He still hadn't had his deepest wounds stitched up because he told Mirelle and Enora that he'd only break any stitches in his drunken wrestling matches with his friends. Which left him waiting till tomorrow. Maybe by then his wounds would look a little better and he could talk them out of sticking needles and thread into his flesh.

“Now…where's that fire pit?" Revaramek licked his nose, glancing around.

The setting sun peeked above the hills surrounding Enora's home, bathing the grassy vale in the last of its golden radiance. It would not be long now before it vanished and cast the valley in shadow. Revaramek wouldn't have any trouble seeing in the dark, nor would the gryphons. But he knew poor Mirelle and Enora would be stumbling around blindly and bumping into each other without a proper source of light. He'd best get that fire started and make sure it was big enough to give his poor, night-blind human friends plenty of light.

He located the fire pit in roughly the center of Enora's land. Looked like she'd upgraded it since the last time he was here. That was good, as it meant he wouldn't have to burn down any sheds in an attempt to build a proper bonfire. The pit itself was lined with blackened stones. Ash and charred wood sat in the bottom. A ring of larger stones darkened with scorch marks circled it. All around it the grass was flattened or cleared away, and several benches cut from massive logs sat nearby.

Revaramek lowered his head and sniffed at the fire pit. The ashes smelt old. They hadn't burned anything lately. He gazed around, flicking his ears back. Where might they keep their wood? He glanced at one of the log benches. He could stick one of those in the fire pit, stand it up its end. That would make for an impressive fire. But it would be difficult to cook things on it, and the humans would have one less place to sit.

Wondering why humans didn't just keep their firewood next to their fire, Revaramek padded deeper into Enora's expansive yard. He headed towards her sheds and outbuildings near the barn where the gryphons slept. The dragon poked his head into one building, saw walls lined with spades, shovels, and all sorts of tools and devices he didn't understand. Some of them looked like weaponry. There wasn't anything that looked like it would make for good firewood, though. He looked into another shed and found it filled with strange pots and jars and sacks of things he couldn't be bothered to try and identify.

Near the barn, he nudged open the doors of an outbuilding connected to the gryphons home. Wooden boxes, crates, and chests were stacked high along the walls. Finally, he was getting somewhere. The doors were large enough to fit a gryphon, if not quite a dragon, but he shoved himself inside anyway. The door frame squeezed against his sore body, mashed his wings, and Revaramek hissed in discomfort. He wriggled against it, and the wood creaked ominously. He hoped the whole place wasn't about to collapse upon him. At least if it did he could use it all for firewood after he freed himself from the rubble.

A quick investigation proved most of the crates to be filled with little more than spare blankets, cushions, and bolts of cloth. Revaramek cocked his head and clicked his teeth. Why even bother putting those in a box? Soft things like that were just as good in a pile as they were stuffed in some old crate. And wood was more useful to burn than it was to stack atop other wood, wasn't it? Revaramek dumped the blankets and things onto the floor of the building, and then carried as many crates as he could back to the fire pit. He made a few trips, hobbling along on three paws, holding boxes in a foreleg and in his jaws.

Once he had enough wood, Revaramek smashed the crates against the stones around the fire. The splintering cracks made him pin his ears back. He glanced at Mirelle and the others. They were all seated around the wine cask, staring at him. No doubt they were in awe of his firewood finding ingenuity. He waved a paw at them and went back to smashing up boxes. Revaramek tossed each bit of broken wood into the pile, piling it atop its shattered brethren.

When he had a suitable pile of wood, he took a deep breath and exhaled hard, squeezing his fire glands. Streams of fire bile mixed and burst into roiling, red-orange flames beyond his jaws, pouring across the wood. The shattered boxes ignited in an instant. Revaramek snapped his jaws shut and backed away, the heat from the roaring fire washing across the thin scales of his face and his sensitive frills.

“Ah, perfect!" Revaramek flopped onto his haunches, clapping his forepaws. “I'm so good at making fires! I'm so helpful and benevolent!"

Now, what else could he do to be helpful? He glanced over at Mirelle again. She was laughing and gesturing with her mug. Wine sloshed from it. She'd said she was going to do her own cooking, but she looked like she was having a lot of fun. Why interrupt her fun when he could do her cooking for her? Surely he owed her that, she needed to take some time for herself. Besides, how hard could cooking be? Revaramek leaned over, scratching at his side with a hind paw. The fire did all the work, right?

The dragon pushed himself back up to his paws. He'd seen humans cook before. He'd heard them talk about it. There wasn't much to it, really. They just used fire to heat things up and make them taste better to human tongues. That sounded so easy he was sure he could do it.

Smiling to himself, Revaramek padded across the vale again to where they'd left the remains of the deer. When he arrived, he cocked his head. Little remained of their quarry beyond a single haunch and hind limb. He licked his nose. He didn't remember them eating quite so much of it. Still, a leg of deer was more than enough food to feed a human or two. He took it in his jaws and returned to the fire.

As the dragon walked, he considered the finer points of cooking. Such as, were there any finer points of cooking? He tried to remember watching people who had cooked him before, but he always remembered the end product more than how they'd achieved it. Did he need to pull the hide off? He was sure humans never ate hide and fur. He couldn't' blame them, they weren't his favorite parts either. Half the time he used his flame to burn away the fur from prey creatures. And since he was going to be putting this meat to the flame anyway, he didn't have to worry about that. So all he really had to do was cook it. That was easy. He did remember that sometimes humans put food on stones around the fire, or put them on metal sticks above the flames.

Revaramek dropped the deer haunch next to the fire, glancing back at Mirelle again. Poor woman hadn't eaten all day. She must be starved. He didn't really want to keep her waiting for any longer than he had too. Surely, the closer he put the meat to the flame the faster it would cook. After all, wasn't that the basis of cooking, putting food in fire?

“Apply meat to fire." Revaramek licked his muzzle, flicking his spines back. Yes, that sounded right. He picked up the deer haunch in his jaws again, stretched his neck, and dropped it directly into the fire. Burning wood popped and snapped and a flurry of swirling embers drove the dragon back. The deer's hide caught flame. Burning fur and crackling skin were reduced to a charred coating upon the meat. Revaramek smiled. “Done, and done."

Satisfied with his work, Revaramek trotted over to the rest of the group, ready to tell Mirelle the good news. Their voices drifted back towards him as he approached.

“Was it really?" Mirelle laughed, shaking her head.

“Oh, completely!" Chir'raal squawked and then slurped wine out of a large, wooden drinking bowl.

“He's not exaggerating!" Kurekka draped his wing over his lover, flashing Mirelle a gryphon grin, his ears perked. “It was all the way exposed, as if it was…" He waved his paw, trailing off.

Enora picked up for him. “Saluting all the village-folk the gryphons and I had brought out to discuss a business arrangement with! Wouldn't have been so bad if he wasn't laying on his back at the time, but there he was, fast asleep, and there it was, saying hello!"

Mirelle only laughed harder, taking a long drink of wine. “So what did you…you know…"

Enora waved a finger in the air, giggling. “I said, 'see, I told you he was harmless', and moved right along to business!"

Revaramek gasped, his ears pinned back and frills flushed dark. “Enora! What horrible lies are you telling Mirelle?"

“It's the honest truth and you know it, you old lizard!" Enora drained the last of her mug, and dunked it in the cask for more.

“I don't remember it happening that way at all!"

Chir'raal warbled, his ears twisting back in a gryphon smirk. “Cause you were passed out drunk! Bet you remember those dreams you musta been having, though."

Kurekka leaned against his mate, flicking his tail. “If you remember it happening another way, that means it did happen, and since you were asleep and we weren't, we're the ones telling the truth!"

“Yes, well…" Revaramek curled his tail around a hind leg, then flared out his frills and tail spines in smug display. “I'm sure you were all very impressed, nonetheless."

“It was alright, I suppose." Kurekka shrugged his wings, then nipped at Chir'raal's neck.

Chir'raal leaned his gray-feathered head into the attention. “I thought a dragon would be bigger."

“I'm plenty big!" Revaramek stomped his forepaw. “I was young then, and still growing!"

That only brought a new round of raucous laughter from the entire group. Mirelle laughed so hard she stumbled against Revaramek, and nearly fell over. He caught her in his foreleg and wrapped it around her till she had her balance. She smiled at him in thanks, then rubbed his muzzle when he lowered his head towards her.

“Oh, don't be a cranky lizard. We're just having a bit of fun." She giggled. “At your expense."

“I'm supposed to be the one telling the funny, embarrassing stories." Revaramek found himself smiling back at her despite his very un-resplendent humiliation. He tossed his head towards the gryphons. “About them!"

“Well then…" Mirelle swung her mug at the gryphons, splashing wine on Revaramek's scales. The rich scent of it clung to his nose. “Tell one!"

“And here I didn't think you liked that sort of dirty tale."

“It seems the drinker she gets, the bawdier she gets." Enora smirked, then blinked and glanced at her mug. “Drunker. Drunker? Drinker?"

Revaramek rumbled, curling his foreleg around Mirelle's middle again. “Oh? Well that's good to know. So you do have a less prudish side."

“I've told you before, ya big stink lizard." Mirelle twisted around in his grasp, jabbing a finger against his chest plates. “I'mma prude. No, I'm notta prude. Just because I don't enjoy your sex…" She hiccupped, and Revaramek's eyes widened. “Stories…when I'm stone sober doesn't mean I'm…not secretly amused. I own a tavern, you know!"

“Yes." Chir'raal clacked his beak. “We know! You've told us at least five times."

“So I like dirty things!" Mirelle swung her mug again, splashing more wine. “I just don't like them…publically. I wouldn't just…have my way with a man…where everyone can watch, so why should I…stories? And where's my food? "

Revaramek growled a giggle, struggling to stifle it. “How much have you given her?" 

Kurekka tilted his head. “She's been keeping up with Enora, and Enora downs wine like water. And they both got started long before they came out here."

“In hind sight…" Enora peered into the wine cask, then glanced at Mirelle. “Well, I tried to warn her that…my tolerance is a little…"

“You're a lush, is what you're trying to say." Chir'raal snickered, ruffling up his wings.

Enora thrust her mug at him. “You watch it, Feathers, or I'll borrow Mirelle's boots."

“Food!" Mirelle shouted, then thumped her mug against Revaramek's scales. “Where is it?"

“It's cooking, Mirelle." Revaramek rubbed her back with a forepaw. “Quit spilling your wine all over me!"

“I'll spill your wine!" Mirelle glared up at him.

“Oh my." Revaramek laughed, shaking his head. “I'm not even going to touch that one, it's too easy."

“I'll touch…no, wait. Cut it out you perverted lizard!" Mirelle thumped her boot against him, but she only caught his scaly thigh.

“Ow, Mirelle, that was my…" Wait, he'd better not tell her she missed. “I surrender, stop kicking me!"

“Stop twistin' my words!"

“I tried to tell her it was strong wine…" Enora leaned against the cask. “Even I'm feeling a little…Well, I did tell her she didn't have to keep up with anyone, and she informed me…again…that she owns a tavern!"

Kurekka tilted his head back when Chir'raal nuzzled at his throat. “She'll be alright. After what she and Revaramek have been through, I suspect she could use the release of a good, liberating, drunken revelry. If not the hangover."

“I'm not that drunk." Mirelle spun around to face the gryphon so quickly Revaramek circled his foreleg around her waist to try and keep her from losing her balance. She glared at Kurekka, leaning forward against the dragon's leg until she was leaning over it. “How did your wing heal?"

The two gryphons exchanged glances, and Kurekka stretched his red-brown wing, showing off the crimson flight feathers that edged it. “Told you about my little accident, did she?"

“Said you couldn't fly!" Mirelle swung her mug in the air. More wine sloshed out of it. “And now you can!"

“It's called healing, Mirelle." Revaramek curled his neck to lick wine off his foreleg scutes. “I think you're spilling more than you're drinking now."

“Don't you imprude my investigation, you overgrown toad!"

“Imprude?" Revaramek cocked his head. “That's not even a word, Mirelle. I think you're looking for impede. You see, impede means-"

“How did your wing heal?" Mirelle thrust her finger at the gryphon, then tried to duck under Revaramek's foreleg.

“And you're confusing your amphibious insults!" Revaramek pulled her back against him before she could wriggle free and go soak Kurekka's feathers with the last of her wine. “I think you're looking for newt, or salamander. But I'm no more closely related to those I am to a lizard." He licked his nose, huffing. “I'm disturbingly close to sober right now. Enora, could you help with that?"

Enora laughed and fetched one of the gryphon's drinking bowls. She held it up, and Revaramek nodded. It wasn't perfect for a dragon, but it would do well enough. Enora dunked it into the cask and then walked it over to the dragon. He took it in his other forepaw, lapped up every drop of rich red wine from within, and then passed it back to her. Enora filled it again and brought it back. This time Mirelle tried to grab at Enora's sleeve.

“How did Kurky's wing heal?"

“Kurky?" The gryphon squawked and flared his crown feathers. “That is not my name!"

“Oh, I think it is now." Chir'raal warbled in delight, smirking at his lover. “My dear Kurky, where would I be without you?"

“Don't you start!" Kurekka snapped his beak.

“Aww, don't be angry, Kurky, I wub yoo."

Enora pulled her sleeve free from Mirelle, shaking her head. “His name is Kurekka, dear."

Mirelle drank the last of her wine, and waved the empty mug around. “I can't say all these…names! There's too many funny sylll…sil….sibbablles…sounds! I can barely say Rivmereek let alone Kurky or Chirpel."

“That's not even close!" Chir'raal growled, slapping a forepaw against the grass.

“I know! That's the problem!" Mirelle sagged against Revaramek's foreleg. “And Kurkly won't even tell me how his wing healed, and she said it was a miracle and I wanna know about the miracle."

“Miracle?" Revaramek cocked his head, glancing around at everyone. Something tickled at the back of his mind, some tingling uncertainty he couldn't quite sink his claws into. “I don't think I ever heard that entire story. I just thought you were very well cared for while you healed."

Kurekka gazed at his wing for a long moment. “You'd never believe me even if I did want to tell you."

Revaramek glanced at bowl of wine. With a frustrated growl, he set it aside and fixed his bronze gaze on the gryphons. “Try me, then. Tell me, and we'll see what I believe."

“I suppose I could." Kurekka pulled a loose feather free, and spat it on the ground. “Well, you see, to be honest we weren't sure I'd ever-AWWRRK!" The gryphon squawked and jerked his head around to stare past Revaramek, something orange glinting in his eyes. “Is that a shed on fire again?"

Revaramek glanced over his wings. It didn't look as if the fire had spread anywhere it shouldn't. “No, that's just Mirelle's dinner cooking." He arched his neck to smile down at Mirelle. “I'm helping, Mirelle."

Mirelle pushed herself against the dragon's foreleg to peer around his body. She gasped in horror, and twisted away from the dragon. “My food's on fire! You scaly shit!"

“Of course it's on fire, Mirelle, how else am I going to cook it for you?"

“That's not how you cook food!" Enora put her face in her hand, laughing.

“It's not?" Revaramek licked his muzzle, shifting his wings.

“My foooooood!" Mirelle broke away from the dragon and sprinted across the vale, tossing her mug aside. “You're ruining my dinnnnerrrrr!"

“Mirelle, wait!" Revaramek lifted his voice to call after her. “You'll burn yourself! You're too drunk to be handling fire!"

“Well go on!" Enora took a swig of wine, and Revaramek stared at her. She thrust her mug at Mirelle. “Go stop her before she burns all her hair off!"

“That would look funny." Revaramek cackled at the mental image of a very bald, very angry Mirelle. “But then she'd probably buy even pointier boots. I'd better go save her." When Revaramek rose to his paws and turned away, Enora yelped and flung herself to the ground behind him. He turned his head, gazing back at her. “What are you doing on the ground, Enora? Have you fallen over? Perhaps you should stop drinking."

“I'm avoiding your damn tail!"

“Hrrmm?" Revaramek swished his tail, realizing it was swinging back and forth over Enora's head, near the wine cask. “Oh, sorry."

“Not as sorry as you'll be if you spill all my damn wine!" Chir'raal growled at the dragon. “Now go save your councilwoman before she ignites herself!"

Revaramek swung his head back around in time to see Mirelle stumbling to a stop near the fire. She snatched for the deer's hoof sticking out of the fire pit. Immediately she yanked her hands back, shaking them. Then she looked around and picked up a long piece of broken crate. She poked at the deer haunch with it, only to yelp and drop it in the fire when it caught flame.

“What are you burning over there?" Enora pushed herself back to her feet as Revaramek padded away.

“Just some old boxes!"

“What old boxes?"

“Can't hear you, saving Mirelle!"

Revaramek broke into a sprint, streaking across the grassy valley towards the fire pit. Just as he neared Mirelle and the fire, one of his forepaws slipped on the long grass. It shifted sideways underneath him, and tripped up his other foreleg. He flopped down and momentum carried him forward so far he skidded across the ground on his chest plates, hind legs scrabbling before he came to a stop, mere feet from the raging fire. Mirelle stood nearby, staring down at him with wide eyes and gaping jaw.

“Ummm…Hello, Mirelle."

“What the hell are you doing you drunken lizard?" Mirelle stomped a pointed boot near his muzzle. “You almost put your face in the fire!"

Revaramek shook himself, pushed up to his paws and gave Mirelle a confident smile, his frills lifted. “I came here to stop you from…erm…putting your face in the fire."

“Well you've already put my dinner in the fire, haven't you!" Mirelle stomped again. “Get it out!"

“I was trying to cook it for you!" Revaramek glanced at the fire. The deer haunch was scorched and blackened, with flames rolling across it.

“That isn't how you cook food!"

“So I've been told!" Revaramek stretched his neck, tempted to grab it by the hoof and yank it out. The heat rolling over his sensitive nose told him he'd end up with a seared muzzle if he tried. He looked around for something to help.

“So get it out already!"

“I'm trying, Mirelle." Revaramek's gaze settled on one of the log benches. That ought to work.

“I told you I'd cook it myself!"

“I was trying to be helpful!" Revaramek snapped his jaws, trotting to the nearest bench. “Besides, when you said that I didn't expect you to drink half a barrel of wine while I was off making a fire!"

“Liar!" Mirelle whirled around, kicking at his webbed tail spines. “I didn't that much! I drank most of it inside, with Enora!"

“Oh good, just in time for it to hit you while you're out here drinking even more!" The dragon grabbed the end of the bench in his forepaws, leaning onto his haunches. “That explains a few things! Now quit assaulting my tail and watch out!"

“For what?"

“For this!"

Revaramek hoisted up the log bench in his forepaws, and swung it around towards the fire. The end of the log caught the burning deer haunch straight on and knocked it flying. It tumbled through the air, flames and embers whirling behind it. It landed in the grass, and rolled to a stop, still on fire. Revaramek dropped the bench to chase down Mirelle's food. He ran up alongside it and beat his wing against the air. Powerful gusts of wind blew across the meat and eventually extinguished the flames. When the charred venison was no longer burning, Revaramek folded his wing again, pleased with himself. Heavy, greasy smoke rose in curling plumes from Mirelle's meal.

“Mirelle, your food is ready!"

“My food is ready?!" Mirelle stomped towards the dragon, wobbling a little. “How am I supposed to eat that? It looks like a lump of oily coal with a burnt hoof sticking out!"

“I don't know." Revaramek tossed his head, dismayed she did not appreciate all the hard work he'd put into cooking her dinner. And saving her. And saving her nicely-cooked dinner. “You humans are the ones who like to burn your food before you consume it."

“We don't burn our food, we cook it!" Mirelle balled up her fists. “Listen here, Revamurmurk! You don't put food inna fire, you puttit by the fire so it…" An odd look crossed Mirelle's face. Her eyes crossed a little and mouth hung slightly open, as if she couldn't decide if she had to burp or not. “That's not…cooking, it's…oh dear-"

And then Mirelle vomited.

“HHHHRRRBBLLLRRRBBBBHRRFGGGHHH!"

Revaramek danced away from the sudden fountain of red wine erupting from poor Mirelle. He wasn't sure if he should hunker down and protect his testicles, or go and comfort the woman. At least now perhaps she wouldn't have to worry about how well-prepared her food was. Of course, if she'd eaten a meal before she started drinking, perhaps this never would have happened. Enora taught him that in his younger days, and it had always served him well.

The dragon moved around behind Mirelle and put a paw on her back to rub it while she emptied her belly. He just hoped she didn't decide to shoot him a smoldering glare and spray wine all over him in the process. As she retched, he stroked her back, waiting for the worst of it to pass.

“There, there, Mirelle. At least now perhaps you won't be so hung over in the morning."

“This is…HRRRNK! ….Your fault!"

“How is it my fault?"

“You decided we should get drunk with the gryphons!" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, panting.

“Yes but I didn't tell you to start before the rest of us! If anything, it's Enora's fault for-"

“My bench!"

Revaramek lifted his head, glancing over at Enora who was now streaking towards them in the growing darkness. The gryphons remained around the wine cask, helping themselves. He cocked his head at the older woman running towards him. “No, Enora, we're not discussing your furniture. Though Mirelle may hold you responsible for her current unpleasant state."

“It's on fire!"

Revaramek shook his head, snorting. “She hasn't a fever, Enora, she's just drunk. And I don't think she'd appreciate being called an it."

“My bench is on fire!"

The dragon flared his frills out, confused. “What bench? I don't even know what you're on about." Enora hurtled past him, and he turned his head to watch her. She ran towards the fire, where flames now roiled across end of the bench, because he'd left it in the fire pit. He flicked his spines back. “Oh, that bench. Right."

Enora grabbed at the other end of the bench, and struggled to drag it back to no avail. She shot the dragon a glare burning hotter than the fire. “Well, get your scaly ass over here and help me already!"

Revaramek nosed at Mirelle's lower back. “I've got to go clean up Enora's mess. Will you be alright?"

Mirelle groaned, cupping her belly in one hand. With the other she gave the dragon frantic waving gesture that he equated to being halfway between 'I'll be fine, thanks for your concern', and 'Get the hell out of here'. He nosed her again and then turned away from Mirelle, careful of his tail. Then he trotted back to Enora, hissing at her to get her to move aside. Once she was out of the way, he dropped onto his haunches and grabbed the unburning end of the bench in his forepaws. With a heavy grunt, he swung it away from the fire and tossed the whole thing onto the grass.

“There. Problem solved."

“Problem not solved!" Enora shouted and ran after the bench as it rolled across the ground. “Problem spreading to my grass!"

The rolling log left spots of smoldering orange in its wake. Enora stomped a few of them out with her shoes, but the bench itself continued to burn once it came to a stop. Revaramek stretched a wing forward to scratch at his neck with a wing-tip talon. Perhaps he hadn't thought that through. Still, green grass didn't usually burn as easily as dry grass. Then again he supposed green grass wasn't usually exposed to direct flame. For a few moments he just watched Enora run back and forth, stomping out smoldering patches.

Enora whirled around, her skirt swishing as she glared at the dragon. “Well? Don't just stand there looking resplendent, help me."

“Won't it just burn out?" Revaramek cocked his head, pawing at the ground with a hind foot. “I mean do you want me to do, piss on it?"

“That'd be a good start! Sure, do that!"

Revaramek scrunched his muzzle, swiveling a single ear back. “I haven't got to go that badly right now. Besides, I'm not standing over a burning log to piss on it! I'll sear my poor male bits!" He flattened his wings and glanced over them at the gryphons. “Bring that cask over here!"

“Oh no!" Chir'raal splayed out a black-barred wing in protective display before the barrel. “You are not using our wine to put out your fire! Just piss on it or something!"

“You piss on it!"

“No way, I'd burn my sheath!"

“That's what I said!" He snapped his jaws, pleased at least one person agreed with him. “You see, Enora? That won't work! Oh! I know, let's have Mirelle vomit on it! Mirelle!" He glanced around, but Mirelle was no longer nearby. “Where'd she go?"

“Who knows!" Enora ran around the far side of the log, stomping out a few more little fires. “Use your wings, blow it out!"

Revaramek took a few steps towards her, staring at the fire that now consumed half the bench. “It's a pretty big fire to blow out. It worked on Mirelle's dinner but I'd be afraid of spreading it. Oh, I know! Have you got a piss trough for the drunkards?"

Enora ground the sole of her boot into smoldering grass. “A what?"

“A piss trough, for the drunkards! Mirelle's friend Beka made me pour one over my head the last time I nearly set myself on fire."

“The last time?" Enora froze, gaping at the dragon. After a moment she snapped out of it, and ran a few paces to stomp out another bit of fire. “We haven't got any drunkards!"

Revaramek curled his neck to give the two nearby gryphons a pointed look. They were busy giggling, gulping wine, and ruffling each other's feathers. “Are you sure?"

“Out of the way!" Mirelle's voice silenced any reply.

Revaramek swung his head around to find Mirelle trotting away from the gryphons' barn, carrying a large wooden bucket in each hand. Water sloshed from them. She hurried to the log and set one bucket down, then tossed the water from the other over the flaming bench. The fire hissed spat a cloud of steam. Mirelle passed the bucket to Enora, who ran back towards the barn. Then Mirelle threw the other bucket of water over the fire, further quelling the flames.

“Oh there you are, Mirelle. I thought you were still vomiting." The dragon gazed down at the half-extinguished fire. “Looks like you know how to put out a fire after all."

“I own a damn tavern!" Mirelle snapped at him and swung the bucket at his head.

Revaramek yelped and back-pedaled. “Yes, so you said! What are you so angry about?"

“Of course I know how to put a fire out!" She made an impressively obscene gesture, then ran back towards the barn. As she ran, she yelled back. “They're just not usually started by scaly whirlwinds who can't go anywhere without ruining things!"

“Scaly whirlwinds? Oh, I like that, Mirelle, I'm going to use it." He cleared his throat with a growl, then called out in a booming voice. “I am Revaramek the Resplendent, scaly whirlwind of your destruction!"

 An empty bucket sailed through the air, and clanged off the top of Revaramek's head, right between his horns. “OW!" He jerked his head back, rubbing between his horns with a paw. His head throbbed for a few heartbeats. “That hurt! …Impressive aim, though."

Enora and Mirelle soon returned with more buckets filled with water. They dumped them over the log, extinguishing the rest of the flames. With a few more buckets of water, they were able to put out the rest of the smoldering grass as well. Once the fire was contained to its rightful place, Enora tossed down her empty buckets, and strode up to jab her finger against the dragon's chest plates.

“Anything else of mine you'd like to ruin before I go to bed?"

“Ruin?" Revaramek arched his neck, gazing down at her. “I haven't ruined anything, Enora."

“You ruined that bench! Do you know how long it took to carve that?"

“You have others!" Revaramek swept a wing out to indicate the two remaining carved benches.

“That's not the point!" Enora scooped up a bit of broken wood and thumped Revaramek on the nose with it.

“Ow!" He pulled his head back, rubbing his nose. “What was that for?"

“For breaking my crates and using them for fire wood."

“I was trying to be helpful! They were just filled with old blankets you can put in a pile!"

“That's not how people store things!"

“I needed wood for a fire!"

“Then use the firewood!"

Revaramek flopped onto his haunches with a long sigh. He curled his tail, hissing in frustration. “I looked for it and I didn't see any."

“It's right there!" Enora turned around, pointing to the big barn where the gryphons slept. “There's an immense pile of it just inside the door, off to the side."

“Oh." Revaramek licked his nose, glancing at his paws. “I didn't look in there."

“Why the hell not?"

“Because that's where the gryphons live." He dragged his claws through the charred sod beneath him. “And gryphons can't make fire, so why do they have firewood?"

“Of course they can make fire! The same way I…aaarrrhh!" Enora stomped a few times and threw down the broken wood. “I think you're getting more obnoxious the older you get! I'm starting to see why Mirelle likes to kick you in the balls!"

Revaramek covered himself with both forepaws. He whined, splaying his ears back. A sudden cold pang rang out from his heart, and echoed deep down in his guts. He hung his head, his frills drooping. “I…I don't mean to be obnoxious. Well…sometimes I do, but…I was genuinely trying to be helpful. I'm…I'm sorry, Enora."

Enora took a deep breath, and when she heaved it back out in a tremendous sigh, all the anger seemed to escape her with it. Her shoulders sagged and she stared at her ash-caked boots. After a moment passed in silence, Enora came forward and wrapped her arms around Revaramek's head. Her touch was warm and comforting, and the dragon leaned his muzzle into it. She stroked his jawline, her soft skin soothing against the thin, sensitive scales of his face.

“I know, Rev." Enora pressed her face to his muzzle, kissed his nose. “I know. I'm sorry I said that. I appreciate that you're trying to help, just…try and think things through, alright? For me?"

“Of course, Enora." Revaramek lifted a forepaw to stroke the older woman's back. She felt just a little more frail these days than she had when he was young, but her touch, her voice, her warmth, they were every bit as tender, as loving. “I'm sorry I burnt your bench and broke your boxes. I…I missed you, Enora."

Enora gave another long sigh, this time directly against the dragon's muzzle. Her breath washed across him. She squeezed his head against her body, and gave him another kiss before she lifted her face, smiling once more. “I missed you too, Rev. Apologies accepted, as always. Now." She cupped his cheek in her hand, and Rev leaned into her touch, savoring the kind affection. “I think we've had enough to drink for one night. At least I have." She glanced at Mirelle, who seemed to be making a point to look anywhere but at the two of them. “And I know she has."

Revaramek turned his head a little to grin at Mirelle, his spines lifted. “Actually she sobered up pretty well there just now."

“A fiery crisis tends to do that." Mirelle circled a single finger in the air without looking back. “M'head's still spinning, though…I think bed is…good."

“But Mirelle, you haven't even eaten your dinner yet." Revaramek struggled to keep his smirk at bay.

“Dunno if you're joking or not, but…s'bit late for that now. Think I need…water…juice…water…and bed." Mirelle turned and staggered a few steps towards Enora's house. “Good night, Revaramek."

Enora rubbed the dragon's nose before she eased away from him. “I think…all those things also sound…good." She chuckled a little, backing away a few steps. “I don't suppose you'll be going to sleep just yet, will you?"

Revaramek lifted his head and called out to the gryphons. “Are you two staying up a while yet?"

“We're gonna drink till this cask is empty!" Chir'raal thumped his paw against the barrel.

“Or until Chir'raal passes out." Kurekka warbled laughter.

Revaramek beamed at Enora. “I can't let them drink it all, they'll make themselves sick."

“Uh huh. You go and be helpful, then, and I shall trust you not to burn anything else down while I sleep." Enora gave the dragon a wave, and turned to follow Mirelle. “Good night, Revaramek."