His Majesty's Dragons: The Battle of Britain

[Cynical Cat]

"Then learn how to dodge," said Frostfell as he followed the smaller dragon, an amused grin on his face.

[LadyTevar]

"Wha', you din' think th' last time wasna good 'nuff?" Jeb retorted, reaching the fence and leaping over it with only a slight help from his wings. "Nex' tim' Ah'll swat it back lik-a baseball, then."

[Cynical Cat]

Frostfell smiled evily. "You'll need plenty of practice if you want to do that."

[LadyTevar]

Jeb stopped and looked back at the White Bastard. One definition of 'practice' could mean Frostfell throwing cow heads at him til one did get knocked back.

"Ah get th' feelin' Ah jis' stepp'd inta it hip deep...."

[General Havoc]

Capricorn, at least, seemed to take Flinder's... commentary... in stride. "'e's not a rock," he insisted with all the sagacity his breed could muster. "'e's a Devil!"

He seemed to attach no negative meaning to the word, and trotted along quite pleasantly until he reached the feeding paddock, whereupon he remembered Flinder's question.

"I don't put the poison inside it!" he insisted. "Watch!" He leaped over the fence with a fluttering hop and spat a fist-sized glob of nerve toxin with the accuracy of a hosepipe straight into the flank of one of the cows presently trying to get away. The cow took two steps and fell stone dead on the ground, and Capricorn gleefully landed next to it, and began digging in messily, paying no mind to the fact that he was smearing his own toxic venom all over his head and forequarters, nor that the meat he was gobbling down was soaked in it. He did not even pause for breath until he heard Kunja address him, only then popping his head up from his grisly feast.

"I've got a cow!" he said to Kunja in the manner of one who has exciting and mind-boggling information to relate. "D'you want one?"

*------------------------------------------------------*

The crackling campfire seemed all the louder for the sounds of coyotes and other game that filtered in around it, but the men sitting around the fire paid the sounds no mind. They were inured to it by now, and if any had not been, the thought of the thousand-strong Mexican army they would be facing tomorrow was enough to take their minds off it.

The last of the men were still eating when one of them slowly produced a harmonica from his pocket. He turned it over a few times in his hands, brushing the dust off it and staring down past it, but his intent was obvious enough that one of the other men sitting around the fire groaned.

"Fer chrissakes Willie," said the second man. "Will ya put that damn thing away? Y'ain't no good at it."

'Willie' did not look up. "He likes it," he said, as though that answered everything.

"Yeah," said the other man, "well I can't sleep with you wailin' on that thing."

"And I can't sleep with you yappin'," chimed in a third man. "Shaddup a'ready, and let him blow on that damn thing if'n he wants."

Willie did not reply, sitting quiet for a couple minutes, then standing up slowly.

"Smith ain't gonna let you keep 'im," said the second man. "Gonna 'requisition' his ass faster'n a bull mountin' a heifer."

"I don't think I'll let him," said Willie, thoughtfully. His accent was Southern, softer than the Texas sounds around him. "He's taken a liking to me, after all."

The second man laughed. "Throw a plate o' beans at a liz'rd 'n it'll dance on its hind legs. They ain't got no sense o' loy'lty. Turn on you quick as a mad dog."

"We could use a mad dog," said Willie, reaching down and picking up a long wooden cane. "Santa Ana will have dragons with him. If they can make use of them, so can we."

The second man spat. "Shit," he said. "That one ain't no more'n a sprout. One o' them Longhorns'll gobble him up like hardtack."

"In which case," said Willie, "you won't have to hear me play anymore, will you?" And without waiting for an answer to that question, he turned and walked off, using his cane to assist him where his wooden right leg stumbled or slowed.

A dozen paces behind the campfire sat small brown dragon the size of a large dog. Cattle bones lay scattered around him, and he was presently engaged in gnawing on one. The flickering firelight danced over his earth-brown scales and freshly budded horns, and his head popped up as the characteristic shuffling sound of Willie's approach was heard over the sounds of the Texas wilderness.

The dragon stood up and grinned at Willie as he sat down slowly on a nearby rock, and then trotted over to sit next to him. The enormous chain around his neck was fastened to a post driven into the ground, more suitable for an elephant than a small dragon, but the man calmly unlocked and removed it, patting the little dragon on the head.

"'r'we gonna fight th' Mexicans?" asked the dragon eagerly, sitting down before Willie and staring up at him like an expectant dog."

Willie laughed. "We are. You're staying behind."

The dragon growled indignantly, its tail cracking against the ground like a bullwhip. "I don't wanna stay!"

"There'll be other fights," said the man. "Besides, you ain't got the sense or the size yet to stay outta trouble. Put another month'r two o' weight on you, and then we'll see."

"A month?!" demanded the dragon, horrified.

The man only laughed. "It ain't that long," said the man. "You'll be out there 'fore you know it." He laughed and gently stroked the dragon's head. The dragon grumbled, but clearly there was no sense arguing, and slowly he slumped back down onto the ground, laying his head in the man's lap.

"I'm ready to go whip 'em now," he insisted, pouting.

"I bet you are..." said the man, still gently patting the dragon. "Ready to up and hit 'em like a bolt o' lightning."

The dragon yawned, and its eyes began to droop. "Yeah... like lightning..." A thought crossed its mind and it raised its head. "I could carry you!" he said. "Like a horse! And you'd know what I oughta do!"

The man only laughed again. "You couldn't carry a mouse yet," he said, "not 'till we put some more meat on ya. 'Sides, what'm I gonna do up there on a dragon."

"You wouldn't have to do nothin'!" insisted the dragon. "Your leg's all broke anyhow. I'd do all the movin', you'd just have to tell me where to go and who to fight."

"Well I tell you what then, little Lightnin'," said the man, patting the dragon on the head again. "You do as I tell ya, an' wait for another month'r two like I said, and I promise you we'll do just that."

The dragon blinked in astonishment. "Really?" it asked. "You... you promise?"

"'Course I do," he said. "We'll even get you a proper dragon saddle, harness, the whole kit. And we'll give ya' a proper name."

Infinitely pleased, the dragon settled back down again. "I like 'Lightning'," he said.

"Yeah," said the man, "but it ain't right to call a Dragon like that. Don't sound... majestic 'enough. I'll think o' somethin', if you behave yerself."

"I will," whispered the dragon, already falling asleep. Slowly the man reached into his pocket and drew out the Harmonica again. Softly, he blew into it, and the sounds of the campfire and the wilderness around dimmed out as the tune wafted through the dry, desert air. And, as it was intended to, slowly, quietly, the tune sent the little dragon drifting off to sleep, to dream no doubt of battles with the Mexican army which would all too shortly become all too real...

"I've got a cow!"

Fulminatus jerked his eyes open suddenly, and for two horrible seconds, had no idea where he was. The sight of the blood-and-venom-smeared Venomspitter served to re-orient himself, and slowly he let his breath out and raised his head, grimacing as the half-healed gashes he had sustained protested the treatment. He kicked aside the remaining bones from the meal he had eaten before his nap, and yawned, using his tongue to pick his teeth clean of the scraps of flesh still stuck to them. Up ahead was a new dragon, enormous and shimmering lavender and purple, and with it was Capricorn and Kunja, who were chattering away about some damn thing.

He surveyed the scene, and tried to decide what to say, but even as he did so, only half his brain was here. The other half was still laying by a campfire six and a half thousand miles away, listening to the tune and the words that would one day go with it...

"She's the sweetest little rosebud, that Texas ever knew,
Her eyes are bright as diamonds, they sparkle like the dew,
You may talk about your Clementine, or sing of Rosa Lee,
But the yellow rose of Texas beats the belles of Tennessee..."

*------------------------------------------------------*

"Wouldn't suggest takin' him up on that one..."

The voice was deep, though not as thunderous as a full-blown heavyweight's might have been, and came from the side of the paddock, where a mottled brown midweight dragon, slightly smaller than Flinder, was laying, crouched on the ground like a Sphinx. The remains of a cow lay before him, one that had been shot and dragged over to him by the ground crews, for the dragon was plainly in no shape to go hunting for himself. His chest and flanks were wrapped in thick canvas bandages, his face bore scars, some recent, most older, and one wing was splinted to his back, the other twitching and flapping as though impatient to regain the support of its counterpart. The dragon's weatherbeaten hide was cured to the consistency of tough leather, and a long, deep scar ran up one side of its face from the base of its horns to the tip of its snout, running right over its eye, forcing it into a permanent half-closed squint. Neither harness nor any other thing besides the bandages did the dragon wear, save for a small metal object dangling around his neck on a length of cord, unidentifiable from this distance.

"I've seen almost every kind o' dragon that walks or crawls in my time," said the midweight, "but I can't recollect one painted up that way." He stood up very slowly, clearly in pain from the effort of it, but gave no sign that he regretted the action. As he did so, and walked into the light, his scales revealed him as an American Reaper, one of the most ubiquitous breeds of adventurers, mercenaries, pirates, bandits, and a thousand other martial occupations the world over.

"Name's Fulminatus," he said simply. "What in the hell're you?"

[Cynical Cat]

"I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing that he's too stupid to know that he's a moron," said Frostfell in a conversational tone of voice. He walked over to Capricorn and patted the smaller dragon gently on the head. "That's very nice of you Capricorn. You're a good dragon. Good dragon. We'll get our own."

He rose up into the air and pounced on one of the fleeing cows, crashing into it so hard that its bones shattered on impact. Frostfell was on the lighter side for a heavyweight, but he still was a heavyweight. He bit down into the mangled flesh, crunching bones with his new teeth. That felt so very good. And the marrow was delicious.

[LadyTevar]

Frostfell stampeded the cattle, but Jebediah had been expecting that. Like a blue streak he darted low, seeming to overshoot his target, making the cow shy away and slow a little.

Then something odd happened as one of his wings dipped, the claw on the alarbone catching upon the ground... and the lightweight dragon swung around on that pivot point with perfect timing to snap his jaws over the cow's neck, killing it with a clean bite.

The Smoke Devil shook the dirt off his wing and dragged his cow over to where Fulminatus was staring at the purple newcomer. "Good ta see ya on yer feet, Fulminatus," Jebediah said, crouching catlike over his cow. "Judith's been worryin' 'bout ya." It was rather amusing to Jeb, since he recalled Judith worrying over a runty pup like that once. He doubted Fulminatus would like the comparison.

So, he tucked into his meal with a bit more manners than Capricorn or Frostfell.

[rhoenix]

A single cow spun lazily upward, somersaulting in mid-air as it did, mooing frantically. Finally, it hit the apex of it's upward momentum, stopping for one horrifying, heart-stopping moment, before gravity claimed this unwillingly airborne cow as its own once more, it's antagonistic relationship with gravity now patched up and happy.

It fell, faster and faster, mooing more and more frantically as it accelerated downward, suddenly cut short as it fell into the cavernous mouth of a huge red dragon, munching thoughtfully before swallowing as he watched Frostfell and Capricorn play with their food.

He said nothing, but grabbed another cow with a large red paw, and softly spoke a few words in Russian before tossing it up into the air a short distance, ready to eat this one as well.

[Avian Obscurities]

Flinder was quite hungry, and that coupled with the excitement and mixed emotions of arriving at the covert was making him slip in and out of that...other place...more than he had in a while. He didn't know what to call it or how to describe it when he drifted off, but he definitely felt like it was a "place" he was catching glimpses of. He had tried to describe it to Allen once, and the best he could say was that he was seeing the world as it was, as it had been, and as it might be, all at once. On top of this were ribboned emotions and fragments of dreams. When he was really deep into it things weren't any more clear, but it became harder to tell the real world from the histories and the dreams. Thus it had been when he killed Mr. Marston's--Allen's father--prize stud bull, thinking it was some monster attacking the rest of the cows. Though it had obviously not been real, Flinder still remembered the monster vividly: great and carnivorous, like a wingless dragon on two legs, with pebbled skin like a goanna and a long maw like a crocodile.

Watching the cows reminded him of this incident, and without intending to (as always) he found himself drifting to the other place. He watched the Windigo tear into his prey, but at the same time watched glimpses of his cleansing in the cold sea earlier that day. Flinder laughed outloud. "Great white dragon? Great white shark!"

He heard Fulminatus address him, and turned to regard him, still viewing through the other plane. He saw the bandages and the injuries, but also saw a strong proud dragon of full strength and many years younger. More tantalizing, though, were the wisps of Fulminatus's dream that still clung to the edges of the dragon's being in this world. Flinder watched them--all pieces at one moment--in slack-jawed fascination.

As usual, descriptions of what he saw flowed unwilling from his mouth "A great, brown outback...grey dingos, singing...the stars hang upside down...." He drifted back to himself enough to see only the old injured dragon watching him in surprise. "What happened to him? The one-legged man?"

[General Havoc]

Fulminatus froze like he'd been turned to stone. Froze in mid-breath and mid-word. For some seconds he stood there, like a life-size statue of a dragon, and only slowly did he bring his head around to face Flinder. A glazed, horrified look came over the old American Reaper's face, and when he spoke, his voice was a raspy whisper.

"What the hell did you just say?" asked Fulminatus. He looked like someone had just grabbed his heart with an icy hand, and his claws dug into the soil like the talons on a bird. "What are you talkin' about one-legged men for? Where the hell did you hear anything about that?!"

Fulminatus seemed to have suddenly forgotten that anyone else was present, and he stared down the Dreamweaver like he was facing his own evil twin.

[Avian Obscurities]

Fulminatus's roaring sent a spike of fear through Flinder so fast that the adrenaline brought him crashing back into extreme sobriety.

The aged, infirm dragon now more resembled the younger counterpart Flinder had glimpsed as he reared up in front of him. Flinder was reminded yet again of the time he killed the bull, since Fulminatus's fury was not unlike Mr. Marston's when he had discovered what had happened.

He cowered and took a step back. "I...I'm sorry, I honestly don't know...."

[rhoenix]

Watching this potential firestorm unfold caught Veritas' attention, having now seen the newcomer Flinder stick his paw in his maw saying...something that sounded almost non-sensical, but had evidently given Fulminatus something to think about.

Almost without thinking, Veritas' eyes flicked toward Captain Braithwaite to verify his position and condition, and then back to the two dragons at hand. Grabbing a third cow, he said something in Russian almost inaudibly before simply gulping down the cow, without having tossed it into the air first. Sitting on his haunches, he faced the two directly from where he was, the two footsteps he needed to do so being warning enough.

He was now long-past being a youngling that tried to be a peacemaker, but then again, both the dragons were smaller than he - for now, he would watch.

[LadyTevar]

"Now, Fulminatus.... ya sho'dnt get all work'd up in yer condition," Jebediah drawled, blood staining the scales around his mouth. Where Veritas wouldn't step in, Jebediah's forty years of wisdom suggested he should. He was smaller than the two Mid-Weights, and thus not as much of a threat as if Veritas or Frostfell got between the two.

"Wha're th' youngin' said, ya don' scart it outta him," Jeb continued. "He's flown a lot ways, an' hunger's prolly got 'em muddleheaded."

[Charon]

Kunja knew the stories of the Dreamweavers. How they were supposed to see things no one else could. It was part of the reason why, when one had referred to him as a lizard god, he had been so eager to take up the name. Kunja stepped up, not quite imposing himself between Fulminatus and Flinder, but taking a stand.

"He's a Dreamweaver. They can't help but see things Fulminatus, don't hold it 'gainst him." Kunja paused. "They just like talking nonsense sometimes."

The Victorian prayed that the Dreamweaver was smart enough to not try to argue that it wasn't nonsense.

[General Havoc]

Fulminatus looked like a dragon poised on the knife's edge of panic, but as first Jebediah, then Kunja stepped forward, he seemed to almost visibly draw back from the edge of whatever he was considering doing. Likely Fulminatus himself didn't know what he had been prepared to do, but it was apparent that something in what the young Dreamweaver had said had actually scared the 104 year old veteran of forty different wars.

His breathing tapered off, as the pain from his injuries floated back into his mind, and slowly he lowered his healthy wing and retracted his claws. When he spoke, his voice was most of the way back to normal, though still on its guard.

"You'd... do well to take care with that type of thing, whelp," said Fulminatus. He clearly had no intention of pretending nothing had happened. "There's some don't take kindly to others bringin' up buried ghosts."

He sat down, looking suddenly exhausted, coughed several times with a sound like a cannon retort, and by the time that was done, his various ailments and aches had clearly returned him to his usual ornery self.

"You didn't answer my question," he said finally. "What in the hell are you? Some kinda Aussie?"

[Avian Obscurities]

Flinder continued to cower under the fierce stare of the older dragon. He had thought he was finally making a good impression, but Fulminatus's reaction and the stares of the other dragons made him start to doubt that. There was no question Allen had heard the commotion, but he hoped he hadn't heard what it was about.

He eased up slightly as the older dragon relaxed, and hurried to reply to his question. "Yes, sir...Northern Territory. Darwin." He glanced at the cattle, now largely stampeded to the other end of the paddock and lowing in panic. "Um, excuse me, sir, but...I think I really need to eat something." Without waiting for a response he trotted after the cattle on foot, wings held tight against his sides.

*-------*

Allen was still with the other captains when Fulminatus's roar echoed across the field. His head snapped around. "What the hell...?" he muttered, fear gripping his chest.

[LadyTevar]

Jebediah's wing went out and stopped the purple dragon. "Here... finish this 'un fer me... I'll get us 'nother," the Smoke Devil said, getting up from his cow, barely touched. It was the draconic version of mountain hospitality. "Ya look half-starv'd an'way."

Jebediah moved off to fetch a second cow, leaving Flinder the carcass of the first to eat if he chose.


+++
Judith's head turned towards the dragon pen as Fulminatus roared and Captn. Allen spooked. She saw Jebediah's wingtips near Fulminatus, and she relaxed a little, knowing Jeb should be able to handle it. Frostfell's bulk was also visible, the bastion of last resort. "Ah'm guessin' Fulminatus' drugs hav' worn off 'gain," she said to Allen, a note of sadness in her voice.

"He's our 'Merican Reaper... a vet'ran dragon, been fightin' o'er a hunnder years," she explained. "Got no captain... so yer Flinder migh' o asked an' got 'em upset 'bout it 'gain. He's in a bad way...." she trailed off, a mix of anger and pity in her voice. "Th' Jerries damn-near kilt him. Th' docs were sayin' tis a mir'cle he aint'nt dead yet."

[Dark Silver]

Twelve Days after the Raid:


Hermeticus glided through the air,one of the few dragons that were still healthy enough and relatively unharmed from the raid, and as such, they were tapped to run most of the patrols. Thomas didn't mind the extra patrols, though Hermeticus sometimes lamented the lack of extra food like the other dragons got on their sick-leave. And he missed spending time with Capricorn.

His crew took to setting up their camp - used to the American army's way, set up the camp on the outer edge, away from where most of the others were, and kept to themselves. Thomas had said multiple times he didn't care if the crew talked with the other crews during their off times, and made sure he only took skeleton crews up on Hermeticus for patrol. He wasn't sure how much free time they would get in the future, and he wanted the men rested and relaxed.

Thomas, for his part, remained quiet and stotic while amongst the other captains, speaking only when required, keeping his answers short, simple, and as free of accent as he could. It wasn't that he didn't want to socialize with the other Captains, but he knew all to well what would happen - it always did when the races mixed.


The big dragon and and his crew were finally finishing up their latest patrol, and began to circle Trangmere, going in slow circles back towards their clearing. "I hope Capricorn left me a sheep.." Hermeticus said mournfully, as he caught the smell of fresh blood.

[Avian Obscurities]

Flinder was touched at the smaller dragon's gesture, and despite his grumbling stomach needed no help remembering his manners. "Thanks mate, thats very kind of you...." He dug into the carcass while Jeb went to catch another one, just as dramatically as the first.

After he dragged it back and dug in himself, Flinder tentatively tried to make conversation. "I'm uh, I'm real sorry to have caused a problem. Already." He sighed, then decided to change the subject. "I'm extra glad for this cow, though, since I'm actually not very good at catching them. Back home, Allen and I went hunting together as often as we could, even in Cairns, and he usually would down a roo or camel from the air."

As he ate, he felt the wisps of otherness evaporate away like a dream upon awakening. Now that he had a clear-headed moment to himself, he mentally reviewed the captains and dragons he had met. Something occurred to him, and he paused in eating to address the Smoke Devil.

"Jebediah, you're from America, and so is Fulminatus, but you sound nothing alike. He's much older, sure, but has the language changed so much in 100 years?"

*----------*

Hearing Judith's reassurances, Allen calmed a little, but he didn't relax completely until he saw Flinder trot off to go bury his face in a cow. "It's partly my fault, I'm sure. It's been a long day for him. We should have stopped mid-flight to buy a sheep or something for him, but he was so eager to get here. I should have known better."

What Judith had said brought up an issue that had been troubling him since they landed. Hesitantly, he addressed the nearby captains. "It seems like much of the covert is in a bad way.... What happened? Does it have anything to do with Captain Rankin being gone?"

[LadyTevar]

Jebediah dropped the cow next to Flinder, frowning slightly at the question. "Wahl.... iffen you'd axked that o' me a year back, Ah'da thought it a silly thin' ta say." The Smoke Devil rolled the dead cow around, trying to think how to put it.

"When Judith n' Ah left home, we was sent ta a trainin' camp wit' other 'Merican Dragons," Jebediah continued, looking not at the cow, but past it to those memories. "Nyther one o' us had been outta th' mountains afore, an' t'was a shock. Th' other Captains thought Judith t'was an idjit twice o'er fer bein' female. Most o' their dragons woudn't give me time o' day, cause a Smoke Devil's not e'en seen fit ta breed fer nothin'. Din't help tha' our home's seen as a bit ... backarsewards. Listen ta them, an' ya'll thin' we're too dum' ta find our tails with' both hands anna map." He spoke slowly, disgust in his voice, his tail emphasizing his anger.

"Judith was givin' hell fer havin' a bad dragon, a bad axcent, an' a bad ed'cation. Tryin' ta prove 'em wrong only go' her a rep'tation fer trouble. Then th' stick-up snob o' a Virginian Captain said som'thin' tha' was th' last straw, an' Judith hit 'em" His tail lashed, thumping the ground, which made Jebediah get control over it.

"She punch'd him ta th' ground, wit' his dragon unable ta help 'em 'cause what he'd said got th' other Captains upset, but Judith n' Ah got put onna boat ta here an'how," Jebediah finished, finally raising his eyes to look up at Flinder. " 'Cause we were both too damn'd prim'tive n' backwards fer their precious high-falootin' AirForce, an' they want'd nothin' more ta do wit' us."

The Smoke Devil cracked a smile that was just shy of bloodthristy. "So... tha's why Ah talk lik' this. Ah was rais'd 'mongst th' rest o' 'Merica don' wanna deal with, 'cause we're not but uned'cated backwards people, fit only ta be shat upon."

====
Judith herself was frowning, tryng to think how to explain things. "We... got hit hard by th' Jerries o'er a week ago." She dropped her eyes, looking down at the ground. "Me n' m' dragon,'long wit' Fulminatus an' th' Parnassian, were all captur'd." Her head raised up again, ashamed of her captivity, but proud of what happened next. "Rankin tol' th' rest they were gonna get us back, an' by tha' next mornin', they did. Frostfell n' Kunja flew distraction... an' tha's why Captn Reynold's in th' hospital. Veritas, Æquitas, n' Hermeticus jump'd th' train takin' Fulminatus, Jeb, n' me."

A shadow caught her eye and she looked up. "There's Hermeticus now... he's a Reaper/Longhorn cross. Gotta all-negro crew, so they don' mix much... but Captn Thomas is a good man. He's th' only one din't get hurt bad in eyther raid, so they're flyin' patrol. An'how..." she looked back to Allen. "Tha's why Rankin ain't here... he went n' rescued all but th' Parnassian tha' got captured." A sad look. "An' Ah've no idear wha' the Jerries did wit her n' her captain, cause they weren't put wit' us."

[Charon]

Kunja had meanwhile managed to snag a cow himself and drag it back. "Still gotta say I'm surprised to see a 'Weaver here. Don't think I've ever heard of one in the RAAF." The dragon grinned. "It'll be good to have a bit of Australian supremacy in the air." With that the Victorian took to his meal in earnest, far more messy than Jeb.

As everyone else that was on the ground paused in wonder or fear at Fulminatus' outburst, Jake didn't seem to even break his stride as he walked to the mess tent.

[Cynical Cat]

The cow's hips crunched deliciously in Frostfell's jaws as devoured the last of the corpse. The Wendigo was a messy eater and there was more than a little blood splatter around his jaws. The great dragon of the north belched and then launched himself into the air to fly lazily back to the barracks. Time to see how the others were doing and possibly meet the new captain or his dragon. He couldn't imagine him being more annoying than Aequitas, but with the Brits anything was possible.

[Avian Obscurities]

Flinder listened to Jeb’s story without comment, although that was partly due to a) his focusing on understanding the heavy dialect and b) having a mouth full of cow. When the smaller dragon finished speaking, Flinder paused in his eating, and studied the ground for a minute before responding.

“That…that seems similar to what happened to Allen and I in Cairns. We volunteered for the RAAF cause we wanted to see the world, and Allen figured they’d be happy to have any dragon, ‘specially such a large one.â€

[LadyTevar]

" 'Fits'?" Jebediah asked, looking curiously at the DreamWeaver. "Lik' jis' now, where ya spook'd Fulminatus? By-th-Bye, Fulminatus... he's call'd a DreamWeaver, an' from how Cap'n Jake acted, only th' blackies down there fly 'em. Flinder jis' got found by a rancher an' raised white."

[Charon]

Kunja was quiet as Jeb and Flinder both shared their own stories. The dragon had a few of his own, but he kept quiet. Complaining about how unfair things were was a way to get himself targeted as weak, he knew that much.

"From what I remember, Weavers excrete some kinda weird substance which acts as a drug for most people. But 'cause of that stuff they get flashes of insight, or just talk crazy talk. Depends on who you ask as to whether it means a damn thing or not."