As the boy trotted along the indicated direction his large, scaly companion scattered the three eggs and covered them with dirt and debris. To anyone else they would look like boulders, such a trick. They would return though, every other day, to give the eggs a good roasting, dragons’ version of incubation.

In a matter of a few strides the dragon was in the lead again, nostrils twitching in the wind. They went away from the lake, over a series of low, wooded hills. The boy didn’t like this as much, trekking uphill through cool shadows. But it’s best not to argue with a full grown dragon.

At last the dragon stooped and crept to one last rise as the trees became more sparse. Smiling a thin smile, the boy did likewise to peek into a rocky clearing. His mind drifted back to games he would play with siblings, creeping about their cave, no one looking at anyone else.

“Ah Sao, I see,” he whispered, “This is much better for you than the East Bank. I know how much you like sheep…and shepherds.”