It took me a week to get up the courage to confront Worgoth. I waited at the top of the tower, my tail wrapped protectively around my feet. When he squeezed through the doorway, I cleared my throat. I realized, too late, it was a very human gesture, but Worgoth snorted in acknowledgement and wriggled his hindquarters out the rest of the way.
“What,” he said, stretching his wings.
After days of considering how to word my questions, I thought it best to speak plainly. “Why toy with the humans if you’re just going to eat them?”
Worgoth scowled. “I don’t eat them.”
“But why do you kill them?”
A rumble rose in Worgoth’s throat. “I kill those who dare break into my home.” He sighed, a trickle of smoke issuing from his nostrils. “I suppose I do eat the ones I kill,” he said.
I tried to reco
