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Chapter Twenty Three

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Mirelle clung to Revaramek as he swept across the marsh. For the first time, she felt safe as they flew. The way he cradled her was careful yet completely secure. He had one foreleg beneath her and the other around her, allowing her to sit against his limb even as she was pressed to his chest plates. Even now, as she got to know him, it seemed strange a dragon could be so gentle. It reminded her of the way he might carry a hatchling around, if he ever had one.

Knowing he would not drop her helped her relax during the flight. The ascent still terrified her, but once the dragon leveled off and her stomach had returned to its original location, she gradually calmed enough to enjoy the tranquility of it. She closed her eyes and pressed her ear to his chest. The soothing, rhythmic thump of the dragon’s powerful heart filled her. The steady, pulsing beat along with the firm, unwavering arms around her were almost enough to make her forget just how high they were.

Mirelle cracked her eyes open, and peered past the dragon’s limbs to the swamp below. Or marsh, was it? She wasn’t sure why Revaramek insisted on differentiating them. She also wasn’t sure she really wanted to ask him. Whatever it she called it, they weren’t really all that far above it. Not compared to how high they’d been the first few times he yanked her into the sky, or let her ride upon his back. Mirelle grimaced at the memory of their first flight. That scaly ass had pounced her and yanked up like a hawk snatching a hare. She oughta kick him right in…oh, right. She did.

The mental image of the dragon’s bugged-out, crossed eyes popped into her mind, along with a glimpse of him writhing about, cupping himself in his paws. Given that she’d done that out of anger, it hardly seemed appropriate to laugh. Yet the more she thought about that image and remembered his groaned complaints, the more she couldn’t resist it. She’d have pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter, but that would have meant extricating it from her grip around his leg.

Giggling laughter spilled from her, soft at first and soon echoing across the marsh below. She just couldn’t help it, when she wasn’t mad at him it was just such a funny image. Even knowing she shouldn’t let her temper get the best of her, the sight was still far too comical. Beyond that, she knew she needed a good laugh, and so she let her glee erupt in bubbling giggles and laughs.

Revaramek curled his neck to gaze down at her, his ears perked. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, fine,” Mirelle said. She tried to stop laughing, imagined him going all cross-eyed again, and only laughed harder.

“Are you sure?” He cocked his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh that much. Are you getting enough air? I can fly lower.”

Mirelle shook her head, unable to twist her giggles into words. By now it wasn’t even a specific thing making her laugh. Her mirth had become self-sustaining.

“I’ll fly lower, then.” Revaramek descended towards the long stretches of sunlit water and swaths of emerald reeds. “Better?”

Mirelle nodded but kept giggling.

“What are you laughing at? Did you suffer brain damage in the fall?”

That only made her laugh harder. She shook her head again and finally managed to string a few intelligible syllables together. “You don’t…want to know!”

“That just makes me want to know more! What it is?” He grinned at her, his frills rising. Though his flight membranes dulled the sheen of his bronze eyes, they shone all the brighter with shared mirth. “If you’re going to giggle up a fit you can at least share what’s so funny!”

“You! Your face!” She tried to cross her eyes and emulate the dragon’s expression.

“Mirelle, you look as though you’ve suffered a bout of immense constipation that’s about to come to an end.”

“Bahahahahaa!” Mirelle shook her head, unable to reply.

“Do you need me to land so you can relieve yourself?”

“No! That was…your face!”

Revaramek snorted, tossing his head and returning his gaze to the horizon. “I do not suffer any constipatory issues!”

“That’s not even a word!”

“Nonetheless, dragons have excellent and efficient digestive system, and thus constipation is rare!” Revaramek eased the bulk of her weight from one foreleg to the other. “So I don’t know why you’re giggling about constipated dragons.”

Mirelle adjusted her grip against him, swatting his chest. “That’s not a mental image I need!”

“Then stop giggling about it!”

Mirelle scrunched her nose. Gods, he was dense sometimes. Either that, or he was far more clever than she gave him credit for and just enjoyed toying with her. If it was the latter, she certainly wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of ever admitting to his cleverness.

“I wasn’t, you silly beast!” She leaned her head back against his chest, calling up to him over the wind. “I was thinking about your face! After you yanked me into the sky the first time!”

“I’m not sure what’s so funny about the expression a dragon makes when he’s pleased to share the joy of flight.” Mirelle couldn’t tell from below, but she thought Revaramek was smirking.

“I was thinking more of your expression after we landed, and my boot shared the joy of flight with your balls!”

“You’re just a fountain of boot references, aren’t you.”

“I try.” Mirelle grinned, patting his foreleg. “But that’s what I was giggling at. I was just thinking about how I actually felt safe right now, how different this feels from the first time! Then that look on your face just popped into my mind.”

“You feel safe right now?” Revaramek curled his head again, his bronze eyes wide and spines lifted. A strangely hopeful note shone in his voice. “Flying with me?”

Mirelle blinked, then grimaced when a shudder coursed through her. She pressed herself to the dragon’s chest plates. “I did until you reminded me we were flying!”

 “How could you possibly have forgotten?”

Mirelle closed her eyes, listening to the dragon’s heartbeat again. As long as it kept thumping, she was safe. “I’m asking myself that same question right now!”

“Your poor memory notwithstanding, I am honored you feel secure in my grasp.” He smiled and lifted his head, playfulness creeping into his words. “And I hope laughing at my pain has helped ease your fear.”

“I wasn’t laughing at your pain.” Mirelle giggled, opening her eyes again. “Just the look on your face.”

“So shall I expect to be kicked again upon landing?”

“Not unless you do something to deserve it again!”

“I didn’t deserve it last time.” Revaramek banked a little, heading for a series of distant hills Mirelle had never seen before.

“You pounced me like prey and hauled me screaming into the skies!” She swatted at his scales.

“Oh yes. I did.” Revaramek sounded far too pleased with himself for Mirelle’s liking. “That was fun. You should have heard your scream!”

“You should have heard yours after we landed! I didn’t know a dragon’s voice could get so high!”

Revaramek laughed, tossing his head. “It was the second time that day!”

“And you deserved it twice as much as you deserved the first!”

“Which I didn’t deserve at all!” Revaramek snapped his jaws. “Double nothing is still nothing! Therefore, I didn’t deserve either one!”

“You deserved the first one for slapping me on the ass!”

Mirelle laughed again. With everything on her mind, she was happy to lose herself in such a playful argument. An odd sort of joy rolled through her, gradually easing any lingering fear brought on by the flight. She almost wondered if this was what it was like for Revaramek from the beginning, or if he’d just enjoyed being an asshole for the sake of it.

“I was paying you a compliment!”

“You left a paw print on my butt!”

“A mark of honor! Which I’m sure you liked!”

Mirelle punched the dragon on the chest. Not that it did any good. “I most certainly did not!”

“Keep up this attitude, Mirelle, and I’ve half a mind to let my paw pay your ass another compliment. Especially now that I’ve seen it and know such a kindness is well deserved.”

“Go on, Dragon, swat me again if you dare!” Mirelle jabbed a finger at a copper stripe across his foreleg, mindful of his wounds.

“Oh, it’s a dare now, is it?” Revaramek cackled, his body shaking against her. “Now I know you’re into it!”

“I most certainly am not into anything!”

“Nothing?” Revaramek glided for a few breaths. “And here you were, trying to tell me you’re not a prude.”

“That isn’t what I meant! There are plenty of things I’m…” Mirelle waved her hand dismissively. “Into. But certainly not being swatted on the posterior by-”

“Posterior?” Revaramek gave a growling laugh. “Oh, Mirelle, you’ve spent too much time with the tea kettle! Why don’t you just come right out and ask me for a good swat on the tushie? I’d be happy to comply.”

“You keep your perverted paws from my tushie!” Mirelle would have stomped if her feet weren’t suspended in the air. “I mean rump…ass! Damn it, whatever!”

“If you don’t want a spank, why are you daring me to do it?”

“I’m not daring you to-”

“You literally dared me!” Revaramek curled his neck to grin at her, all his spines flared. “Now I have to do it.”

“Listen you horny newt, I meant that dare as a warning! You swat me again and you’ll see what my new boots feel like!”

“Oooh, is that what you’re into? Punishing males?” The dragon gave a mock gasp, staring at her with wide eyes. “No wonder you’re so kick-happy!”

Mirelle wasn’t sure if she should be shocked and horrified, or bawdily entertained by that suggestion. She sucked in a breath, but it came right back out in raucous laughter. “You wicked lizard! You’d like that, wouldn’t you!”

“I think I’d like the ass-swatting thing better!”

Mirelle smirked, folding her arms as the dragon cradled her. “Maybe you’re the one who’s into it. That would explain why you keep pressing all my buttons every chance you get!”

“I press your buttons…oh, wait, I’ve got something for that.” Revaramek cleared his throat with a growl.

Mirelle quirked a brow. “Go on then.”

“I’ll press your button Mirelle.”

Mirelle waggled her hand. “That’s a five out of ten, dragon, at best. You could have done better. Anyway, if that is what you’re into-”

“It is not!”

“I should think we could work something out. I’ve plenty of frustrations with the council I could take out on you in the evenings. Why, I could have a paddle made…”

“Mirelle!” Revaramek glanced at her, his frills flared again. “Now that is wicked. I almost wish I was into it just to see more of this side of you!”

Mirelle just laughed, shaking her head. Gods, this was a lot more fun when she wasn’t furious at him. “Nevertheless. You keep your paws to yourself and your tongue civil, and I’ll keep my boots to myself.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

Mirelle smirked. “Indeed. Now, as much as I hate to put a damper on our high spirits…where are we going? How far away are these gryphon friends of yours?”

“To the vale beyond those hills in the distance! Shouldn’t take too much longer, if you can keep your serpent’s tongue to yourself long enough to let me fly!”

“Serpent’s tongue?” Mirelle jabbed her finger against his chest plates. “How can you say that when you’re literally a serpent?”

“I am not!” Revaramek hissed, glancing at the ground below. “Serpents are snakes, their tongues are forked. Mine is just long, and agile.” He smirked at Mirelle. “Very agile.”

Mirelle swallowed, a hint of heat rising in her cheeks. “Do you ever stop being so lewd?”

“No! That would be boring!”

Though Mirelle didn’t say it, she was starting to agree. Revaramek wouldn’t be half as much fun if he wasn’t so damn obnoxious. She wasn’t really sure what she’d expected, before she actually met him. Enough stories circulated about him for her to know he had an interest in maiden visits, and yet she still hadn’t expected him to act so much like one of her bawdy tavern patrons.

She half-thought he’d be some wise, inscrutable beast who simply had exotic tastes, collecting treasure and inviting maidens out to lie with him atop his hoard, passing down tales of conquest and ancient wisdom. But the more she thought about it, the more such a dragon seemed as if he’d have been a perpetual bore compared to what she ended up with. What once seemed like the worst case scenario now seemed far more entertaining than any well-mannered monster who kept to himself.

Mirelle leaned back against the dragon as he flew on. Now that she’d relaxed within his grasp, she worked herself up to enjoying the view. As before, she focused on his foreleg first, admiring the copper striping across the dark green scutes, and worrying over the claw wounds amidst them. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the marsh slide by beyond his scales. Gradually she lifted her gaze until she was able to enjoy the beauty of the world from above.

Ponds, streams and lakes all gleamed gold in the sun’s gaze, as if the entire marsh itself was the dragon’s true hoard. Long lines of reeds stretched like emerald walls demarcating the borders of tiny creatures’ domains. Wild rice grew unchecked in the many shallow pools. A few water buffalo grazed nearby. A flock of birds shot into the air, scattering in all directions with noisy calls as the dragon passed over head.

By then Mirelle had no idea where they were. The cave they’d spent the night in lay at the far edges of her knowledge of the local geography. There were no familiar landmarks for her now, and she saw no roads cutting through the marsh. Aside from glimpses of a few small swamp hamlets here and there in the distance, she saw no signs of civilization at all.

At least no signs of familiar civilization. She did see what looked to be a va’chaak village, located upon a rise in the marsh. Structures built of thick sticks lashed together with fibrous rope and roofed with what looked like immense leaves thatched together circled the hill. Other structures were roofed with the hides of swamp beasts. A large fire occupied the center of the hill, with fish and other meats set up all around it, drying. A few va’chaak tending the fire stared up at the passing dragon, while scaly children with blunt muzzles and short tails chased each other around.

The sight made Mirelle wonder about Tavaat. He’d come from a village like that, but he didn’t much talk about it. She didn’t think he’d even visited home in…well, as long as she’d known him. What was it Asterbury said? Something about her people being the real villains? Mirelle scowled. Not that she believed a word that little rat said, but some of his accusations did bear some merit.

Before her people had settled here, the marshes must have belonged to the va’chaak, and the swamp dragons like Revaramek. And the forests once belonged to the urd’thin and the gryphons, or so she thought. Mirelle had to admit her knowledge of the area’s history and what species originally controlled which area was not as clear as she’d like. When this was all over, perhaps she’d spend some time in the village library, studying the history books. If she was going to push to have all the marsh’s peoples treated as equals, she’d best know about their shared pasts.

Mirelle turned her head, gazing to the west. The marsh looked endless in that direction, an infinite, wet wilderness as far as she could see. She knew somewhere out there were roads and other villages and eventually, a kingdom. But if she didn’t know better, from her place in the sky she could have easily been convinced that there was nothing out there but wild, uninhabited land. It looked so vast it was as if the local villages were the only human civilization in all the world.

Of course, Mirelle knew better. After all, her parents had first settled here after coming from another land. They’d roamed the marsh in the covered wagon she kept in her yard. Nomads, of a sort, though her parents had never really liked to talk about where they lived before. Mirelle had eventually come to the conclusion that they’d fled some kind of discrimination or persecution, and eventually settled in a place more accepting of all peoples. Seemed to be one of the basic principles of the marsh villages, after all. To take in those who’d been treated unfairly, to see everyone was worthy of an equal shot at making a successful life for themselves. Hell, that was why they didn’t even have names, no one village could ever be seen as superior or more important than another.

Or so went the theory. In practice things were never that simple. People’s personal biases still took hold, people still found a reason to look down on others, and progress was always more difficult for some. That was half the reason Mirelle accepted the invitation to join the council, to help turn things back to equality. For people of all races, of any gender, of any background. That was how she strove to treat people in her tavern, after all. Even the council seemed to act as if their village was more important than the others just because it was larger.

Nonetheless, she loved her home and would do anything to keep it safe. She knew her parents would be proud of her, and of her village if they were still around to see how it had grown. It had doubled in size over Mirelle’s lifetime, since her family first settled here after fleeing from…well, wherever. Mirelle’s own first memories were of traveling in that wagon, glimpsing the marsh beyond it. She didn’t think she was born in the wagon. Mirelle suspected her birth was what spurred her parents to finally abandon whatever life they’d clung to in the hopes of making a new one somewhere better. Maybe they’d originally been from Gorpalorp or…

Gorpalorp.

What a stupid name for a kingdom, she thought. Must have been something in some other language. Probably meant something beautiful or dramatic in its native tongue. Mirelle giggled to herself, wondering if her parents had had fled west just because they didn’t like its name. More likely they’d fled because the kingdom to the west must have had restrictive policies or discriminated against certain peoples.

There is no kingdom to the west.

Mirelle’s belly clenched when Asterbury’s voice echoed in her head. That furry madman didn’t make a lick of a sense, and yet there was something strangely disconcerting about that sentiment. She tried to recall if she’d known the name of the kingdom before that poor guard blurted it out at knifepoint. Of course she did. Right? She didn’t think she’d ever spoken that name, though. Surely it had just never come up in conversation, that was all.

She drummed her fingers against Revaramek’s foreleg. Had she ever met anyone from Gorpalorp? Mirelle was sure she had. Hadn’t she? She’d met travelers in her tavern plenty of times. Most of them were merchants or visitors from the other villages in the marsh, but not all. She’d met folks with odd dress and strange accents, some of whom didn’t even speak the local tongue. She’d even met a few unusual travelers who claimed to be from the great eastern wastes beyond the mountains. But while she’d heard people claim to be from the west, she’d never heard anyone mention that name before.

“Revaramek?” Mirelle patted his foreleg. “How far west have you flown? Before the truce, for example.”

Revaramek glanced down at her, his frills half lifted in curiosity. “Not something I ever measured. Never saw any great kingdoms out there, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Mirelle pursed her lips. He was more perceptive than he let on. “What did you see?”

“Marshland, mostly. Then forest, hills. A few mountains, but nothing like those that border the marsh. There were dragons out there. That’s where Aylaryl fled to. There’s gryphons out there, too.”

Mirelle murmured in thought, stroking one of his scutes. “And which way is the swamp? The one you talk about, the poison one.”

Revaramek shuddered, his body shaking against her. His scales clicked and his spines rattled. “South. Far, far to the southwest, I think.”

“You think?”

The dragon’s gulp was audible. “I was quite young when we fled that place. And I have certainly not tried to go back. To the best of my knowledge, when we first reached the marsh, we went northeast a while. So we first arrived to the southwest of your village, I suspect.”

“I see.” Mirelle leaned her head back against him, sighing. “Thank you.”

“You think Asterbury is right?”

“I think Asterbury’s insane.” Mirelle grit her teeth. “But it’s not inconceivable that there really is no big kingdom to the west. Maybe there was, and it fell to ruin, and no one remembers it. Maybe we’re on the frontier, founded by explorers, and rumors just led to incorrect knowledge. The villages are isolated on purpose, their founders wanted a place they’d be free to start again, with their own laws and freedoms. The real kingdoms might well be far north of us, or past the desert to the west.”

“Or not written yet.”

“Don’t you start.” Mirelle swatted his paw.

“Or not yet spoken of.” Revaramek curled his neck to smirk at her. “Depending on who is telling the story, and how it’s being told.”

“Did I not just ask you not to start with that nonsense?”

Revaramek lifted his head again, grinning. “You started it, Mirelle, asking me about the west.”

“And I’m already regretting it!” She shifted against his grasp a little, then clutched his arm when he adjusted his grip. “Do your arms get tired carrying me?”

“Not in the least.”

Mirelle had the sneaking suspicion he was lying for her benefit, but she wasn’t about to challenge him on it if she didn’t want to hear the truth. “How much further is it?”

“Not far now, I don’t think. Just beyond those hills ahead of us.”

Up ahead, the land’s contours grew heavier. The wetlands gave way to tall, rolling green hills marked with gray cliffs, and rugged valleys cut by streams flowing towards the marsh. Snaking lines of gray and black rock capped some of the hills, with broken boulders strewn across the hillside like toppled towers. A lush carpet of verdant grass and moss mixed with large patches of heather. Red and yellow wildflowers dappled the green with more vibrant hues. Scattered pine trees dotted some of the further hills, while those in the distance were smothered in blue-green forests.

A few herds of unfamiliar deer-like creatures wandered the wet valleys amidst the knolls. They had dark, reddish brown fur, and impressive sets of antlers on all the adults. Atop one rise, an immense brown-furred creature slunk along. Mirelle had never seen such a beast before. It wasn’t as big as Revaramek, but it was bigger than any other animal she’d seen in the marsh around the village. It glanced up at them, and kept prowling the ridge.

Beyond the first rows of hills, the land smoothed out for a little while into a wide, flat valley. Much like the hills, the vale was blanketed in grass, heather, and wild flowers. Massive lichen-crusted stones the size of horses speckled it with green-gray. A large pond with clear blue water sat at one side of the place, with a stream trickling out past a dam built of stacked rocks.

Near the pond lounged the first gryphon Mirelle had ever seen up close. Granted, hanging from a dragon’s grasp wasn’t that close, but usually she’d only seen them spiraling in the sky, and not for years. The beast had a head a bit like a pale gray eagle. Its coloration darkened along its back and wings, first darker gray and then black. Yet before Mirelle could really get a good look at the creature, something else drew her attention as Revaramek descended.

A house stood at one side of the vale. Not some strange oversized bird’s nest or some simple structure built by the paws of beasts, but an ordinary house. And quite a large one, in fact. The house looked mostly constructed of logs, like a trapper’s cabin on a much grander scale. It could have easily fit Revaramek, just like her tavern. Outbuildings painted cheery colors surrounded it. A garden lay behind the house, with all sorts of crops growing in long lines. Further towards the back of the vale was another large building, with towering doors beneath the slanted roof.

“Your gryphons live in houses?”

Revaramek gave her a baffled look, his head cocked. “Why, do you think they shouldn’t be allowed indoors? Besides, that’s Enora’s house. They live in there sometimes, but the other building back there is theirs. Now shut up and let me land!”

Mirelle was not about do any such thing. “Who the hell is Enora?”

“Can’t hear you, busy landing!”

Just as Mirelle was about to berate him, he dipped a wing and wheeled around in the sky. Her stomach lurched and she squeezed her eyes shut, gripping his foreleg tight as she could. The movement wasn’t near as intense or disorienting as it had been on earlier flights, but it still left her head and belly spinning in opposite directions. A few moments later, and the dragon’s grip jostled around her as he touched his hind paws down, and hopped a few steps to a stop. As soon as he eased her towards the ground, she waggled her boots till they found purchase.

Mirelle stumbled away from him and dropped onto her hands and knees, panting.

“You alright?” Revaramek dropped onto his front paws and walked over to nudge her with his muzzle. “I tried to land smoothly for you.”

Mirelle nodded, gritting her teeth, willing away the wave of rising nausea. “Thank…you. Gimme…moment.”

“Certainly.” The dragon rubbed her back, and then turned away, his tail whooshing overhead. “I’m going to go say hello to Chir’raal!”

Great. Another name she couldn’t possibly pronounce.

Mirelle took a few deep breaths. When the churning ocean inside her belly calmed again, she eased up to her feet, and looked around. Across the vale, the black and gray gryphon rose to its feet and walked towards Revaramek. The dragon, meanwhile, broke from a trot into a full-on sprint towards the other creature. The gryphon stopped, then backpedaled a few steps. Which proved too late as Revaramek launched himself through the air and straight into the feathered beast.

The gryphon gave a tremendous, high-pitched squawk at the impact and tumbled across the ground with Revaramek. Together they rolled across the grassy earth, coming to a stop with the gryphon sprawled beneath the dragon, hissing at him.

“Watch my damn wings, you great big scaly oaf!”

Mirelle smirked. Yup, that definitely sounded like a friend of Revaramek’s. Though she had no comparison to draw from, the gryphon sounded male. She brushed off her breeches, and walked across the vale towards the other two, watching as Revaramek greeted his friend in his own personal way.

“Chir’raal! I missed you!” Revaramek dropped his head and lapped at the gryphon’s head, face, and beak like an oversized hound long missing its master. “I missed you so much!”

“AWWAAWWK!” The gryphon squawked again, flailing with his forepaws at the dragon’s face. “Not with the tongue! Yer slobberin’ all over me!”

“I’m just happy to see you!” Revaramek laughed and kept licking at the gryphon, flattening down the pale gray feathers of his face.

“Yer spoilin’ my plumage!” Chir’raal twisted his head back and forth, trying to stretch it out of reach of the dragon. “How’d you like it if I licked all over your frills?”

“I’d enjoy that immensely! Go ahead!”

“Ah, get mounted ya big, scaly mongrel!”

Revaramek cocked his head, grinning. “While I find the offer flattering, you know I’m not into that, Chir’raal.”

The gryphon flailed again, beating his wings against the ground. “Just get offa me!”

“Oh very well.” Revaramek stepped off of the prone gryphon, then settled on his haunches alongside him. “Happy?”

“Oughta thump you on the snout!” The gryphon snapped his beak, rolled over to his paws, and trotted to the water’s edge. He tilted his head back and forth, peering at his reflection. “Arawk! You ruined my preening!” He lowered his head, took a breath, and then dunked it in the lake. He shook it under the water, then lifted it and worked his paw through his feathers. “Stupid dragon!”

Mirelle beamed as she walked up alongside the dragon. Somehow, it was oddly satisfying to see Revaramek drove his older friends just as crazy as he drove her.

Revaramek curled his neck, his frills flared out, displaying their golden edges. “You know you missed me, Chir’raal.”

“I’d be a lot happier to see you if you didn’t drool all over me every time you visit!” He shook his head again, glancing back at them. “And who the hell is that?”

Mirelle tensed inwardly. The gryphon didn’t exactly seem happy to have visitors. Or maybe he just didn’t like having someone he didn’t recognize visit him. She offered him a smile, and a bow. “Greetings! I am Coun-”

“This is Mirelle!” Revaramek curled a wing across her back. “My friend.”

Before Mirelle could chastise the dragon for cutting her off, the gryphon turned towards her, his preening forgotten for the moment. He gave her an unsettling glare, and lifted the longer feathers across the back of his neck. Blue speckles marked them. “What was she about to say?”

“Oh, we’ll talk about all that later.” Revaramek gestured to the gryphon with a paw. “Mirelle, this is Chir’raal, my friend. That’s the important thing, we’re all friends here now, right? Right. So relax, bird.”

Mirelle had the sudden sneaking suspicion that Revaramek had dropped her right into the middle of a dangerous game without telling her the rules. Much as that rankled her, there wasn’t anything she could do about it but try to play along without overstepping any treacherous but invisible boundaries. She forced herself to keep smiling, ignoring the goosebumps that broke out across her body.

“Yes, hello, I’m Mirelle. It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’d say Revaramek has told me so much about you…” She gave the dragon a glare. “But all I’ve really heard is that you’re his friend. But a pleasure just the same.” She stepped forward and offered her hand. “Do you…erm…shake or…I suppose you’d want to sniff me, like he did…”

“What?” The gryphon cocked his head. “Why would I sniff you?” He glanced at Revaramek. “Dragons are weird.”

“Speak for yourself, catbird!”

The gryphon hissed, and ruffled up all his feathers. “For at least the millionth time, gryphons ain’t cat birds! We ain’t cats, and we sure as hell ain’t birds!”

Revaramek shrugged his wings. “So you say, and yet you look suspiciously as though a cat caught himself a bird, and then decided to do something other than devour it…”

“And you look suspiciously like a dragon who’s about to get his scaly ass kicked!” He waggled the long, blue-speckled feathers on the back of his neck, then glanced at Mirelle. “And no, I don’t shake hands, but thanks anyway. So how do you know Rev?”

“Oh, how does anyone know me?” Revaramek flexed his wings. “She’s one of my many subjects.”

“Thought they outlawed you havin’ subjects.” The gryphon narrowed his dark eyes, glaring at Mirelle.

“Not in so many words.” Revaramek pulled Mirelle up against him with a warm green wing. She pressed herself to his scales, wishing he’d told her what to expect before they landed. “Where’s your mate?”

“Kurekka’s off huntin’. Be back soon.” The gryphon gave an irritable sounding warble, and turned back around. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta get the rest of the dragon drool offa me.”

The gryphon padded back to the water’s edge. Mirelle took the opportunity to look the creature over. He really did have a vaguely feline body, sinuous and powerful, yet slinky, graceful. The pale gray feathers of his eagle’s head darkened into black across his wings and down his back. Tufted ears marked the sides of his head. The underside of his wings was a lighter gray color, barred with more black. All four of his limbs were covered in fur the same soft gray color as his head, while his underbelly faded to a creamy white. A fan of blue-speckled feathers spread out across his rump, while more gray and black feathers ran own the length of his tail.

He lowered his head to gulp down water. Mirelle glanced at his beak, impressed by how well such a creature could talk. His beak was black, the front half of it sharp and hard while the back half looked softer, more mobile. That combined with a very agile tongue and what must have been a very versatile throat and vocal cords seemed to allow the gryphon to speak her tongue as well as she did.

Once the gryphon was occupied with quenching his thirst, Mirelle glanced up at Revaramek, whispering through grit teeth. “I feel like you and I need to have a chat in private right about now!”

“Oh nonsense.” The dragon curled his neck to whisper back to her. “You’re doing fine.”

Mirelle grit her teeth and balled up her fists. Leave it to Revaramek to find brand new ways to be infuriating. “Am I in danger?”

“Not with me around.”

“That’s not very comforting.”

“Oh, don’t worry so much. He’s only gruff till he gets to know you. And his mate is friendly, anyway.” Revaramek lifted his voice. “Besides, Chir’raal’s just grumpy because I spoiled his preening session and now it’ll take him all day to get his feathers back in order.”

The gryphon gave an angry-sounding chirp and flicked his tail up, white-furred testes exposed. “Lick me, dragon.”

“Hardly an appropriate time for that sort of fun, Bird.” Revaramek laughed and gave Mirelle a smirk.

Mirelle glanced away, fighting both a blush and a laugh. Where all the marsh’s intelligent beasts so crude? “You make it sound as though there is an appropriate time for you to take him up on that, Rev.”

“Nah, I ain’t drunk enough for that. Besides, wouldn’t wanna make Kurekka jealous.”

Mirelle laughed, patting Revaramek’s shoulder. “And here I thought you were only into maidens.”

Revaramek held up a paw. “No, I’m into all females, remember?”

“Of course.” Mirelle folded her arms. “You won’t let me forget.”

“And from time to time-”

“You his mate, then?” Chir’raal glanced back at her, the long crest feathers upon his neck raised up. “That why he’s brought you out here?”

“Certainly not!” Mirelle blurted her reply and stomped her foot before she could stop herself.

“No need to get angry.” He turned away, smoothing down his feathers with a paw. Then he stretched a wing, plucking bits of grass from it with his beak. “Just curious. Or do you got something against non-traditional relationships?”

“I…well…no…” Mirelle rung her hands and Revaramek gestured with his paw, as if asking her to tone it down. “I just…I’m just his friend, that’s all.”

“That’s how it starts.” The gryphon re-arranged his wing feathers.  Once satisfied, he folded his wing back, and turned his attention to its twin. “Then you spend a lot of time together, you love being with them, and before you know it, you’re in love. Then you get a little curious, and-”

“Yes, thank you, I do understand where that sort of thing would lead.”

“Just sounds like you got somethin’ against that.” The gryphon fixed his gaze on her, his dark eyes impassive.

“No…no…” Mirelle gulped, glancing up at the dragon. “I mean…so long as…both male and female are…consenting…and happy…it’s…hardly any business of mine. Or anyone’s.”

“Male and female, huh?”

“Well…you know, maiden and dragon, or…whatever the case may be…” Mirelle fidgeted with her blouse. She cleared her throat and busied herself inspecting Revaramek’s scales. “Let’s see…you look a little bruised here, still…”

“The hell happened to you, anyway?” The gryphon’s tone softened for the first time. “You look pretty roughed up.”

“Aylaryl and I had a disagreement.”

Chir’raal strode forward and stood before the dragon. He reached out with a forepaw that looked vaguely feline, and gently cradled Revaramek’s chin. “Looks like a little more than that. Yer missin’ a horn, for shits’ sake.” The gryphon’s voice softened. “You alright, Rev?”

Revaramek sighed. “Don’t remind me.” He nuzzled at the gryphon’s paw. “It’s not the worst ass-kicking I’ve had, but it’s close. I got her just as bad, though. Bit her paw to the bone, I think.”

“Revaramek!” A female voice echoed across the vale. “Revaramek!”

Mirelle turned towards the voice, thinking the gryphon’s mate must have returned. Instead, she saw a human woman in a light blue dress running from the house towards the group. She hiked her dress’s skirt up, sprinting barefoot over the grass towards everyone. Revaramek gasped, rose up to all fours, and turned towards her. The dragon took a few steps before the woman flung herself at him. Revaramek caught her in his forelegs and dropped back onto his haunches, hugging her against his chest.

“Enora! Enora!”

Mirelle scratched her head. So that was Enora. She glanced at the gryphon, who had settled back onto his own haunches, with his beak parted and his ears up in what Mirelle assumed must be a gryphon smile. He looked almost as happy to see Revaramek hugging the woman as the dragon himself did. Mirelle was starting to wonder if she was ever going to get the fully story of this place and all its inhabitants. And just how many people lived here, anyway?

Enora laughed and laughed as Revaramek squeezed her against his chest. The joy in her musical laughter was contagious and Mirelle found herself smiling just like the gryphon. Revaramek wriggled back and forth on his haunches, swinging the woman as he hugged her. The dragon made several strange noises Mirelle had never heard from him before, like happy, high pitched growls and excited whines. Then he was purring louder than she’d ever heard. She could just about feel the sound reverberating through her.

“Enora! Enora! I missed you, I missed you!”

Enora laughed, her arms stretched as far around the dragon’s chest as she could get them. “I missed…you too! But you’re…crushing…my ribs!”

Revaramek arched his neck, grinning. “Oh…right.” He set her down, then cocked his head, looking her over. “You’re getting old, Enora.”

Mirelle gasped. What a horrible thing to say. And while the woman was certainly older than Mirelle, with strands of gray weaving their way into her dark hair, and a few crow’s feet around her eyes, she was hardly an old granny. And it was wildly inappropriate to suggest as much no matter how old the woman was. Yet just as Mirelle was about to chastise the dragon for being so insulting, Enora beat her to it.

But instead of offense, Enora reacted with more laughter. “Of course I am! That’s what humans do! We’re not all blessed with the long lives you dragons have.” Then she poked him on the nose, smiling. “You’re getting older too! Well, bigger, anyway.”

“Thank you.” Revaramek rumbled, then lowered his head to nuzzle at the woman’s cheek. “It doesn’t matter how old you get. You’ll always be beautiful.”

Mirelle smiled and glanced away. Usually Revaramek offered the compliment before the insult, not the other way around. Or maybe he was just about to see how far he could cram his paw into his own mouth. Mirelle smirked. It might be funny when it was someone else on the-

“Give ‘em a moment, girl.” The gryphon tapped her back with a forepaw.

A moment? Mirelle furrowed her brow. Since when did Revaramek need a private moment to give someone a hug or do something awkward? Perhaps Enora was easily embarrassed in front of strangers. Still, if that was the case she doubted the woman would have flung herself at the dragon like that. Must have been a long time since they’d seen each other.

She glanced back at them. Revaramek had his muzzle pressed to Enora’s body, and she was leaning against him, hugging his head. Rev’s eyes were closed, and his purr threatened to shake the woman to her knees. As she hugged him, Enora stroked his scales, ran her hand along his jaw. She laid her cheek against his muzzle, smiling. Her hand roamed over one of his frills, caressing it before she moved to stroke his ear. Revaramek lifted a paw to stroke her hair as they murmured to each other.

They almost looked like…

“I said give them a moment, not stare at them!” The gryphon hissed at her. “Long as they’ve been apart, they need a little privacy.”

Oh. Mirelle gulped, and turned away.

That was new.