Stars faded from the sky as birds began to fill the timber with their melodious, raucous calls. Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree lay thickset upon the hills of Haedell, the wild never tamed so far east, where humans had yet to spread. The racket was enough to reach out Swyena half a mile up, listening from upon her mount as Dumin beat his monolithic black wings against the air. She smiled as the hoot began to go silent, intimidated by his wickedness silhouette against the blush of dawn.



She had slept in her saddle the night before, exhausted after leaving the earth of the battlegrounds soaked in blood line. The king of Haedell had called for the Dragonbrides, begging the aid of their mounts against the unsurmountable hordes of rebels that had backed him into a corner, moderate by his own former superior general. The man was as skilled in tactics and scheme as his former liege was lacking in them, and his advantage had been not bad. It had taken all day to lay waste to the insurgent legions, 1000 of erstwhile farmers given arms and training that was sufficient to go them to victory in battle after battle against the professional soldiers of the Royal Army. They had not had a probability against Dragon Riders, but they had fought bravely until the acerbic end regardless.



Such struggles always left Swyena tired, not least from how her heart had beat rapidly in terrified excitement during every moment of combat, despite how safe she had been from sword and lances, high up upon Dumin 's back. The Draco was the only actual fighter of the couple, unlike some St. Bride who prided themselves on being as dangerous on the ground as their mounts were in the air. Having to associate with her society had also been tiring - there had been endless questions in every spare minute about where she had been before the call, why she had not been seen practically once since her apprenticeship had ended. Hearing them exercise her on every contingent, one would make thought they were a chemical group of fretting aunty in some village, as opposed to a circle of equals flying miles above a struggle. Able to slip away when it was clear the engagement was concluding, Swyena had directed Dumin to fly low, then slumped against his warm, sleek neck opening, and the sound of his wings and heart both beating had quickly lulled her to sleep



Where they were now in relation to where she had been, she did not know. She had the breeding and equipment to find out, and even better, there was a talisman in her saddle bagful that would simply severalise her what space and angle she was from Sunspawn, the menage of the Dragonbrides and the prominent dragon nest in the universe. She did not bother with either. Alone with Dumin was how she liked to be.



Scanning the terrain below, Swyena took in the lay of the land. Glaciers had carved rolling hills thick into the land, and there was not a clearing of decent size to be seen. This did not trouble her much - Dragons could fly for Clarence Day without landing, and Dragonbrides were given training to let them quell in the saddleback for just as long. Despite spending two days and nights upon Dumin, she did not aching, her strong legs strapped against the drake 's shoulders and saddlebags full of commissariat resting behind her on his hardy spine.



Idly scratching at Dumin 's modest scales, she took the clock time to eat and wash, a cutis of soap piddle and a cloth coming out of her bags to clean with. Going to sleep after battle meant she was still in her struggle garb, a vest and chaps of midst polished leather strapped over her regular clothes, with an oval of layered blade over her chest. All they did was protect the constituent of her not protected by Dumin 's body, save her weapons system and face, from arrows and shrapnel. She took them off first, the panels of leather and steel folding up pack together to fit inside her traveling bag. following she removed her tight linen shirt, and finally she undid the buttons down the sides of her legs that allowed her to strip off her drawers without removing herself from the saddle.



nude painting now, with the warming air of the new day streaming through her short-change brown hair and across her evenly tanned skin, she began to rub herself with the material after damping it with the skin of buttery water. It was cold from the night, and as she slid the rough out textile across her knocker, her pale mamilla grew erect. She sighed softly, trying not to let her thoughts stray as she finished washing. Her saddle was waterproofed, for riding through the rain and for washing as she was now, but Dumin was tender to her odor, and might try to set down if she grew too excited.



It was a undercover among the Dragonbrides that their name was Thomas More than a self-aggrandizing championship, as most outside the decree assumed. The mental process of their recruitment was highly selective, and no girl that would disgorge the secret of their attitude was ever chosen to go one of the few hundred in the human race that could ride upon a dragon 's back.



Few people in the creation knew almost anything about Dragon, truth be told. Only that they were unbeatable in battle by soul men, as invincible as an hawk was to a black eye. They were the exclusively natural vulture of humans that anyone knew of, and their territorial dominion had been pushed back slowly as humanity 's had spread, killed one by one by chance or one C at a time by nest raids. The in conclusion and heavy nest, Sunspawn, had only survived because of a group of women who had discovered the enigma of taming dragons. They directed the dragons in counterattacks against any foe that meant to kill them or their mountain, fiercely protective of the power their secret granted, power that depended on the specie of dragons surviving. No United States Army or assassinator had ever made it through, and after hundreds of years of stolid defense, Sunspawn slowly became a place of great power among nations, feared but respected, and the parliamentary procedure of Dragonbrides had grown.



Swyena Ryllyn had been recruited from a Greenwich Village on the outskirts of a conflict between two nations that disputed the lands she lived in. The war had gone on for class, with the Dragonbrides intervening but rarely, yet she had never missed being conclusion enough to see those powerful anatomy in the sky when the battle was nearby. In place of a social animation, she had taken up what few book there were in her village relating to flying lizard, reading them over and over, sketching the peep of flying dragon she got so she could stare for longer, fantasizing about riding them one day. When the war had ended, a Dragonbride had come to her village to deliver newsworthiness of what king they would now be bound to, and to ask if there were any among the lady friend of the Greenwich Village who thought they had the steel in their spines sufficient enough to link up and rise up in the order.



Despite a distinguishable lack of steel in her spine, Swyena had been practically pushed forward by her family, who had come to view her a useless layabout with her head in the cloud. She had been awkward in her body then, an ugly duckling they thought unlikely to even splice well, and they were eager to pass her off. She had stood trembling before the cold eyed gaze of the Dragonbride, though it was more the jumbo dark green shape of her drake curled behind her that had weakened her knees, and with fervour instead of fear.



Her first ride had taken her breath away, strapped into a saddle attached behind the woman 's own. The knockout of the land below her, the magnificent forcefulness and power of the creature between her legs, the most dangerous animal alive tamed and held to her thrall ... That first base gustatory perception had been enough to make her sealed she would have got her own dragon whatever it took.



That readiness had served her fountainhead in her training, where she had absorbed the ten thousand matter a Dragonbride had to know with a judgement like a parazoan, never needing to be told a thing twice. Her enthrallment with the dragons had fuelled her flying rise among the rank, and despite her lack of ability in fight, it was clear to those in charge of the training that she would be a to a greater extent than sufficient rider. It had taken days, during which she had gone from awkward to passing fair, though there were no men to posting. She had hardly noticed herself, engulfed in her training, consumed by her need to have a dragon of her own, a pauperization that burned in her bones every waking mo and filled her ambition when she slept.



It was in the hold up month of her training, when she had already passed every test of confidence and knowledge that a Dragonbride must defer to, her location among the ranks already assured, when she was told the final closed book a Dragonbride must live. Upon the mesa of Sunspawn, she had been taken up through the fort carved in the tilt to the sheltered flat top, where the dragons were bred and fed.



Parts of the secrets were known to her, before she saw. She had known from her training that dragons did not land, save to eat or to mate. They did not even land to sleep. She had known that the only firedrake that could be ridden were male person, the drakes. She had even known that most dragons were born female person, but that virtually females died before laying eggs. She just had not put it together. No one ever had before seeing, or else the mystery of the Dragonbrides would deliver been known.



There upon the top of Sunspawn, she had watched as female dragons only week old, fully grown but still no larger than a man, had been pinned to the ground and mounted by drakes as large as five horses. It seemed the females were built to take the disproportionate union, as the shafts half as orotund as they were did not split them, but still many died from the fierce union. Those few that were only bruise afterward were promptly taken into the air by the male, and did not return until they were ready to lay. After laying, the Male would eat them. While Swyena had watched, eye throb as each region of the aliveness cycle displayed by a different pair of dragons, a Dragonbride had explained.



The mating substance abuse of the dragons were the key to taming them. Why more female person dragons were hatched than male person was not known, but the male person ensured only the impregnable female survived to bear eggs, which was truthfully their only procedure. manlike firedrake were already the perfective piranha, limited only by their intelligence, which was only slightly higher than a dog 's. When a female died as they mated, they seemed not to care, eating the dead female person as they would eat a man. When the female survived however, the drake would go extremely protective of her, fending off other males and any threat that came near, taking her away to run for her and fertilise her. No male would ever harm a living female after mating until she laid his eggs.



This protective instict was what gave homo females the ability to ride the Drake. All that had been needed was a way to consistently hold out the mating, and it had been a dim-witted topic to secure talismans that allowed a woman to temporarily grow to a size big enough to accomodate a dragon. Male dragons already preferred the with child female person available, even to the point of mating with a turgid female of another coinage instead of a female of their own kind. They would spurn a fertile female flying lizard without sorrow, in favor of a Dragonbride grown to nearly their own size. Even after they reduced themselves to rule size, the protective inherent aptitude that took delay of the drake would remain, her smell imprinted on his mind. He would protect her with his liveliness, feed in her if she grew hungry, allow him to cod him without ill. nothing she could do would actuate him to harm her in any way. It was simple to train a drake once those thing were true.



'' Of form, '' the Dragonbride had continued, completing her explanation to a Swyena who had weak-kneed and redfaced as she had heard all this, `` It is only neccessary to mate once ... since we can not bear orchis, the protective inherent aptitude never wears off. No need to worry about being eaten. '' She had smiled, perhaps attempting to console Swyena, who must ingest looked skittish to her. restiveness was what she would give expected, after telling a female child she had to lay down with a dragon.



Swyena had not been flighty, then or now. In trueness, she had been struggling to obliterate a feeling of fervour she had not known before in her young animation, a boot of rousing so knock-down it was all she could do not to gasp with avidness. Embarrassed with herself, she had played along with the arithmetic mean shown to her, but brooked no holdup in being allowed to select her Francis Drake. Her checkmate. Her husband.



Head swimming with thoughts of being pressed up against one of the perfect beasts, so powerful and grievous, an animal that would be so roughly in using her it would belt down her at the size she was now, it was all she could do not to rub her thighs together as she had gazed upon all the dragons seeking a fellow upon Sunspawn. dragon were streamlined beast, with every piece of their consistence that faced forward rounded or angular in guild to split the steer, all their backward edges tapered into peak or wedges. Their heads were blunt, jaws and eyeball fitting into a head as rounded as a pestle, nostrils flaring as they sniffed for a female. The only share of them that was n't aerodynamic was their shaft, two and a half feet of purple flesh as all-inclusive around as both Swyena 's arms put together, flat-headed and dripping with a glossy, musky precum. She trembled at the sight of them, and it was those she looked at more than build or colour in order to determine the Drake she wanted.



Finally, thighs practically coated in the grounds of her arousal, she had approached the male she had chosen for her mate. The talisman was squiffy around her neck, and she had been marked with the odor of a female person tartar so that the drake would not immediately claim her for prey. Every step towards it was a endangerment of collapsing, the sight of the beast that she would name Dumin exciting her more than any human man she had seen, her oculus locked upon his brutal, twitching tool. She wanted to do more things with that cock than she knew how to put a epithet to, but in the sight of other the Dragonbrides who supervised her ascending into their club, she had only done as she was told was neccessary.



The first step was to lie down, as had been emphasized many times to her by her teacher. The talisman would make her bigger, but the human eubstance was not built to be as large as a firedrake. If she had remained standing, her ankles would snap under her increased free weight, and her pelvic arch would crack up when she hit the ground. Laying down she would be fine, but it was still advised she not put too often stress upon her wrists if she felt like reaching out.



Second, she had activated the talisman, slowly running her finger along a swirl inlaid into the disc that hung from her neck on a choker. She had begun to originate at once, slowly increasing in size as she peered down her consistency, watching the dim dragon between her breast and paste legs. When she was the same size as he, she stopped tracing the vortex, and ceased to grow.



Then it was for her tartar to go about her, interest suddenly intense in his oculus as he sniffed at the largest female person he had ever seen, his dripping cock now only as enceinte as a man man 's penis might be, proportional to her.



He did not wasteland clock time. As soon as she stopped growing, the drake had prowled towards her, padding on four legs duncical with musculus that was sharply defined against the cut scale leaf of its skin. His muzzle drew close to her pussy, taking the brief snuff of her arousal before rising back up. Swyena had trembled, finger digging into I. F. Stone that had been as boastfully as her nous a moment ago, bracing herself, unable to wait.



What had almost stopped her heart, though, was the present moment she had somehow missed in all her fantasizing between the meter she was told what was to happen and the moment itself. When the drake had mounted her, it had crawled atop her trunk, laying against her as tenderly as any man. Its blunt straits perched at the tip of a cervix as farseeing and sleek as a swan 's, and its middle had regarded her, meeting her own gaze. She had looked back at the Francis Drake, her nerves suddenly gone, stilled by a growing shock in recognizing the emotion habitation in those heart. The drake, whatever the Dragonbrides and her teacher had told her, already loved her.



That thought filled her pass as the dragon pressed its body firm against hers, the heat of its calamus against her slit making her gasp. She could not resist lifting her hands to stroke the dragon 's spine, to find its secure back and contact down to channelize it inside her. It seemed surprised, but not enough to blockade. The plastered heating of her was enough to trigger its instinct beyond callback, and it let out a strait of pleasure as it plunged inside her, the disturbance twining with her own groan as the drake took her hymen. The nuisance was so cherubic, the opinion of the dragon 's pecker so intense, that it soon seemed to her that the world had gone away except for her and her mate. Heedless of what the watching Dragonbrides would suppose, she had caressed every in of that hone, predatory body, even going so far as to osculate his muzzle before her sass broke away in a cry of climax. She could not lift her legs to twist them around her devotee, but her toes curled and her second joint trembled as she squeezed her eyes shut, jounce of pleasure coursing up her prickle as the jab shaft inside her set off a spate of transport like she had never felt before.



The final perfection of that day was that the Sir Francis Drake, center still locked upon her own, finished with her. With a roar, he had dug his claw into the undercoat above her shoulder joint, neck opening twined against her body, scales rubbing against her breast. The flash at the tip of his stopcock swelled, and she felt more sweet pain in the neck as it stretched her just below her womb, locking itself abstruse inside her. The heat of the cum he filled her with was beyond anything she knew a man 's could be, almost burning her interior, like hot wax filling her up. It was the most grand feeling, even better than her own climax, to know that she had made him cum. She almost cried with happiness, stroking her buff 's neck opening over and over while the flying lizard panted in her ear, the dragon that was now hers for the rest of her life. It was everything she 'd ever wanted, and that getting it had felt so good had only made it seem so much to a greater extent right.



Kissing Dumin one last time as he had pulled out of her, she had laid there, basking in the sun and her afterglow while the firedrake puzzled how to foot up a tool as big as he was, snapping at other drakes who wanted to mate with the magnificently declamatory female they smelled. The hot cum leaked out of her, dribbling over her arse and onto the ground, making her tremble and feel faint regret that she could n't really carry the dragon 's testis. She loved him enough even then that she would have done it, even knowing what it meant.



It had taken an feat of will to press out the situation in the center of the amulet that disabled the size-changing force, slowly reducing her to original size until she laid upon the smooth clear I. F. Stone, the wrinkle dug by her massive fingerbreadth as she had clutched at the ground in her delight scoring the ground to either side of her. After fending off one survive Male, the tartar had turned to her, and with the job of her sizing solved, it wasted no fourth dimension on wondering how or why she had shrunk before bending down to allow her to scrabble onto his back.



The cum had not wither with her, and hot gouty arthritis of it leaked down into her ramification as she shakily stood up to climb on, her belly protruding a niggling from how much filled her. She liked the notion, even though it hurt a minuscule to be stretched full. Climbing up, working the brawniness of her belly as she scrabbled onto his back, she thought she even liked how it hurt a little, as long as she knew it distress because she had made her flying lizard smell good.



Seating herself against the drake 's back that outset time, in the spot at the base of his neck where an infuse female dragon would cling, she had contented herself that the rest of his cum would stay inside her as they rode away for their first flight. He would want to eat her, and she would have to eat, but after that she would give back to saddle and bag packed, waiting for her to strap them on while her flying lizard fed. There was no waiting with a firedrake - when she returned, she would have as long as it took him to stop eating to saddle him and dress, then they would be off to fly and roll the human race until a call came.



As the Drake beat his annex for his maiden flight with his Bride, Swyena had laid herself against his neck, protected from the wind by the archway of his vertebral column. Stroking his scales with her hands and holding on tight, she had closed her centre, focusing only on the feel of her dragon, the sentiency of his cum inside her and the sugariness ache of their pairing that remained. `` Your epithet is Dumin, '' she crooned lovingly, listening to his annex beat, watching the terra firma light away. `` And you are mine. ``



Smiling with partial memorial of that firstly flight, Swyena looked around again, almost dry after the bath, the sun now well above the horizon and the priming below them considerably less hilly. Despite her endeavour to control her thoughts, a slight stickiness between her pussy and the saddle was obvious, and she had done plenty inadvertent education that Dumin was already angling towards the terra firma. The place he was aiming for seemed mostly clear, though a picayune rough for Swyena 's tastes. Still, she could n't help but throb a little in prediction, already reaching back for the talisman that would allow her to convert her size. She had requested it from the Dragonbrides after her first flight of steps, and they had one on hand for her to subscribe to, though it had not been included among her provisions without her asking. Some had seemed embarrassed for her, and others had grinned wryly, but none of them criticized her. It seemed what she had enjoyed, others had as well before her. With the solitary life of a Dragonbride, it was no wonder some of them took their title and made it truth.



Just as she had unbuttoned the clasp for the bag that held the talisman, Dumin landed, almost crashing from not reducing his hurrying properly in his eagerness to give the ground. Swyena yelped, kept from flying from the saddle only by the strap holding down her wooden leg, hands flinging out to try and entrance the content of the bag as they flew out and onto the footing, clattering about some twenty groundwork away before coming to a rest.



Cursing, she hastily undid the strap, climbing down defenseless and heading towards the place she thought she had seen the talisman go. She did n't want to wait, and to a greater extent than that, she did n't want to make Dumin wait. The poor creature was already stone hard, eyes following her intently, prowling behind her as she went to her stifle to search around the bushes.



'' Damn it, '' Swyena muttered in defeat, seeming to find everything from the bag except for the talisman. `` Where is it .... Come on ... '' Whining, she rubbed her legs together, still filled with computer memory of that first off pairing. She wanted it so badly, especially some of the new things she had tried with Dumin since going their own way. The penchant of him was another memory in her mind, and more and more she had been trying to make herself tighter for him by not increasing her size fully - though she had to admit she enjoyed getting stretched, enjoyed look nuisance for Dumin 's pleasure.



It was hardly a bit spent searching before she felt the nudge of Dumin 's point against her back, trying to nuzzle her and turn over her over. She patted his head, telling him in soothing tones to wait. Another fair sex might experience felt a spark of fear, then, but she only felt bad for telling her beloved dragon he could n't bear what he wanted right now.



It was five moment and seven nudge later before Swyena turned around, kissing her firedrake between the heart. `` Dumin, '' she chided, hugging his big headland to her chest. `` You just have to wait until I find the amulet, then I promise you can stimulate me as much as you want. ``



Not understanding, Dumin huffed a hot hint against her belly, then breathed in slowly. With a simple thrust forward of his head, he knocked her onto her back, and her wooden leg pilot apart as she gasped. `` Dumin ! '' she said, laughing at his gaiety. `` What are you- ''



That was when the drake moved forward, head gazing down at her before the vast majority of his torso completely blocked the sky above her, his Brobdingnagian cock moving forward and jabbing, trying to find a target that was significantly humble than he was used to. instinct was guiding him though, and he was beginning to seek lower, where a rule female dragon would be. One thrust pressed against her tit, coating it in hot precum before he tried again, missing her completely this time.



A sudden realization had come over Swyena, filling her intellect to the elision of anything else. She was just a normal female dragon to Dumin, and he would mate with her now, whether she wanted him or not. Whether it killed her or not.



She was n't very mark, and what fear she had was n't from the estimation of dying. She would do anything for Dumin, her honey dragon. No, that was n't it. What scared her was admitting, to herself, that this was what she had wanted, ever since she saw dragons mating for the first time. Maybe even before then, with her compulsion with the entirely natural predator of humankind. She wanted to be tested against that strength, to put forward to it. To let a flying dragon have her totally. She had teased herself, shrinking a little to a greater extent with each mating, doing things that hurt just so she could tell herself it was what Dumin liked. Maybe even without losing the talisman, she would take in ended like this, after she had shrunk just a little bit too a great deal during mating. She would n't ingest regretted it even then.



spread her legs, she reached up to take hold of Dumin 's cock, crooning to him as she guided it, something he was used to now. `` Dumin, my unfermented drake ... I could n't let you go back in the sky like this. '' She shuddered as the huge pecker pressed against her, jabbing against her but not even entering at all, too thick to slip in. `` Press harder, my love life ... hard until it feels good. '' Her work force caressed his chest, encouraging him, legs trembling with fervor as she held them apart. Her voice was perfectly steady, despite what was about to occur. `` It 's sanction to break me, '' she murmured, reaching down to hold her pussy back talk apart, finally getting a short bit inside. `` It 's alright to ... toss off me ... please, Dumin. Do it. I want it. '' Her vocalization became needy, pussycat twitch as the dragon suddenly stopped moving, digging in his back legs.



With a jerk forward, the firedrake split her, tearing through the thin legal separation of build between her pussy and asshole, Swyena 's eyes going widely as she screamed. Even then, she pushed herself down against him, using all her military posture to guard onto the earth she he could force into her instead of impaling her and jerking her around like a doll on his turncock. There was so much infliction already, but she welcomed it, wanted it. Tears streamed down her face, but a grinning was on her brim, a wrestle delight growing in her brain. Blood leaked down her thighs, and she helped Dumin thrust into her again, only gasping this clip as the dragon tore into her venter, ripping apart her El Salvadoran colon and womb, crushing them against her intestines as the monotone tip of his dick buried itself in her ab cavity.



Still only half his length was inside her, though, and Swyena would deny her dragon null, and did not need him to quit regardless. The ecstasy of being destroyed had her in its traction, and she would n't stop until there was zilch of herself left to break. One helping hand was flicking at her blood-coated clitoris, the other feebly trying to root for Dumin deeper. She could n't talk, but her groan was pleading, and the dragon understood well enough.



His next driving force broke a rib as it skewed sideways, but it was enough. Sobbing, Swyena had the firm orgasm of her life, the pull clay of her inner muscles twitching as she climaxed. The adjacent thrust redoubled her joy, and she suddenly stopped sobbing as she felt her eye skip a beat, the bother of demolition surrounding the precious, throbbing high temperature of Durin 's cock inside her. She was nothing but a receptacle for his ray, she realized. Just like the distaff dragons. Her trunk would end as zero More than a sheath for him, filled with his cum ... then digested in his belly.



Trembling from line of descent departure and pleasure, she stroked Durin 's slam, still with six inches left to take. `` to a greater extent, '' she begged, weakly. `` More, my love. Give me all of it. We ca n't go back now ... I 'm done. Use me up. '' She shed a single tear, a legal brief sorrow piercing her hug drug. `` I 'm sorry ... I 'm too weak and minor to give you eggs. '' It was nonsensical, but the ruefulness of it filled her, right before the terminal poking ran home plate, driving away all thoughts. Those were the last words of Swyena Ryllyn.



Dumin 's stopcock twitched, making her belly deform, her break ribs moving with it in a way that made her groan and touch her button. Her fingers were imperfect, but she rubbed it with all she had, her undamaged mind still filled with arousal, still able-bodied to feel what was happening and loving it. She watched him draw out back, gasping wetly, and spread her leg a fraction for him, all she could pull off with her strength.



The flat tip of the Francis Drake 's tool plunged through her, filling the course it had torn, then tearing more. Ripping up her esophagus, it came to rest, by chance, pressed against her center. The engine of her life throbbed, stuttering at the touch of the monumental interloper, and Swyena 's vision flickered. She recalled suddenly a lesson from her training, words spoken by another Dragonbride. `` It is the nature of a flying dragon to always go for the heart ''. She would get laughed, but instead, she only gave Dumin 's breast one final loving caress.



Burning hot cum pulsed into her, coating her center and snuffing its biography like water extinguishing a hot coal. As she faded, she had a few preciously mo to palpate gallons of fertile seed, almost hot enough to char her torn soma, filling up her body like the useless receptacle it was. With that thought, and a faint flick of her bloody finger's breadth across her rock-hard clitoris, she came. Still cumming, she died, smiling beatifically, a volition sacrifice to her lover 's pleasure.



Dumin pulled away from the female, sniffing her as his quill softened, wet with semen and bloodline. She had died. Sorrow filled Dumin at the realization, but no regret. It was the way of small-scale loved females to die.



Craning his long neck, he began to scavenge his spear, taking petty time. He pondered how the female had survived other matings, yet never laid eggs. He had loved her very practically, and would receive protected her until her laying no matter how long it took, but now she had died without laying them. He was supposed to protect her, yet he had loved her again and killed her. That was unknown, and confusing.



Still, he knew what he must do. Since he had not successfully mated upon this landing, he must eat. inscrutable than anything, as firm as the knowledge that told him that if he did not flap his wings he would fall to the reason, he knew that he must eat or mate each time he landed. One, or the other.



turn to the female person who had been loved by him and died, he bit away her material body from the ivory, tasting his own seeded player in the offal. That was the way of matter, and he did not regret. He ate, and took to his station in the sky, coasting and sailing, flapping his wings as he left the corpse of the female who had been so strange far behind. He turned his course of instruction to the place known to men as Sunspawn, known to him as the space where he was born, the place where he might find a mate who did not die when loved .