St’kelik sat upright slowly with a slight but practiced grimace from his customary aches. The audible pops of his aging joints echoed through the valley below and caused Hollard to wince in sympathetic pain. Yet after such a lengthy conversation, even Hollard took the moment and stretched some.
The two gazed out over the nearby fields from their hilltop perch. The air was light and warm in the spring day and begged for bodies to be awakened to match the earth’s own enlivening. The scents of flowers and freshly tilled fields danced on the breeze and St’kelik noticed.
The dragon sniffed the air and rested on his rear haunches, craning his long neck to enjoy the view from beside Hollard’s hilltop abode. The human chuckled as he squinted up at the ancient who seemed to survey the land with quick, jerky movements and child-like wonder.
“What you lookin’ at?” asked Hollard. “Not seen the land before?”
“Mmmmm…,” the ancient started with a rumble deep in his chest. “Not that. I did not know I was taller than your house.”
“You daft?” Hollard started with a chuckle. “St’kelik, mate, you’re ‘ead and neck above the bloody thing.”
St’kelik squinted in the sunlight as he peered around. “Hollard? Is that a cow field beyond?”
The human shook his head in laughter. ” ‘old on. You can’t nick the neighbor’s cattle.”
“Wasn’t planning on stealing them,” St’kelik said quietly, even absent-mindedly. His tongue slipped out subconsciously and licked his lower lip. Now that the dragon had molted and his fast complete, St’kelik was feeling particularly hungry.
“No, no, no, no!” Hollard said with a startle and shot upright to his feet. “I’m serious! You can’t eat them!” Hollard paused. “St’kelik? St’kelik! You listening?!”
It was hard to see the dragon’s head now that he stood upright in the sun. The molt left behind new, polished silver scales that made viewing him directly on a bright day difficult. Hollard shielded his one good eye from the glare and called back up to his friend.
“St’kelik! Come on now… You’ll ‘ave me in the boil. I know a place for a good nosh-up. St’kelik! Fish, ol’ friend!”
The dragon lowered his head with a wistful smile and rested his front paws on the ground again. Though still several strides away, St’kelik’s large face was difficult to take in.
Talking with the dragon was always a challenge for Hollard. He was accustomed to looking people at close quarters and in the eyes directly, a habit he picked up in the crowded city of Cultrek. But St’kelik was massive, Hollard needed a ten foot distance just to see both of St’kelik’s ice blue eyes in one glance.
Even after all the years the two had traveled the remote countrysides together, Hollard was still amazed at the enormity and complexity of his friend’s physique. Thick leathery scales moved and bent with ease, massive muscles flowing like waves across the dragon’s frame. Each plate was as thick the rogue’s meaty hand and was actually a light slate-blue when viewed up close. It was only in bright light or shortly after a molt did the crystalline structures of a silver dragon’s scales truly shine, earning them their metallic moniker.
Hollard often pondered what Sythlia’s plan was in creating these creatures or allowing their evolution as was taught in universities. They shared some of the same traits as lizards such as a chin beard of fleshy spikes, scales, and a tail. But unlike lizards, dragons had six limbs, two being their wings. St’kelik’s forward-facing eyes were those of a predator, and facial muscles that allowed for complex expression and articulated speech. His cheeks were wonderfully elastic and adeptly allowed the sounds of humanoid speech. Truly, watching a dragon speak a humanoid tongue is a miracle to behold, never mind the palpable awesomeness of the creatures at close range.
As much of an awe-inspiring experience his friend’s existence was, Hollard was still not going to be blamed for pilfering his neighbor’s cattle. The ancient gave in with a smile and waited for his friend to lead on. It was feast time after this molt and the human knew the precise location of St’kelik’s favorite nosh: a large lake of freshwater sturgeon.