Twenty-Nine
“Do you think he’ll come?” Dak asked, sipping a stale tankard of ale. It didn’t suit his palette, but as in most villages, it was safer to drink than water. “Yes,” Jaron answered. The other soldier found his confidence unsettling. They sat in a dark corner of the tavern watching the fishermen drown sorrows and hardships in ale. From the talk, it seemed like the village was looking at a lean winter. Their rooms in the inn above were secure, and their horses were made as comfortable as possible. Ivy perched on the edge of their table enjoying Jaron’s pats as she nibbled at the strips of jerky he had given her. As always, the dragon drew quite a few stares, not that it seemed to mind. Gone were the days when the reptilian would be satisfied hiding in his room. “Stranger,” a haggard vo
- Writer
