Below them, the Dragon River stretched away to the left, a 
reddening metallic ribbon in the fading light. Ahead, the westering 
sun touched the mountaintops on the horizon. B'rand squinted at the 
angry-looking red ball, and shivered inside his thick leather flying
jacket; already, the temperature was dropping, and he was not willing
to put up with another cold leg of their journey. They had cut though the
mountains over the Misty Valley, and B'rand could have sworn icicles 
had formed on his nose.

        <<I see it!>>

        B'rand looked to the left, sheltering his eyes from the glare.
Not too far in the distance, he could see where the Cleft started into
the mountains. Even farther away were dots of intermittent motion, which
by the movement he assumed to be dragons.

        *There sure are a lot of dragons in the air.*

        <<What's the matter, you afraid that the big, bad dragons might
eat you?>> Rook snorted as his mental voice dripped with sarcasm. 
<<I'll protect you.>>

        *You are sooo funny. Come on, we're wasting time.*

        <<Forget that! Now that I see it we can teleport.>> 

        Rook unconsciously stiffened, then suddenly the scene changed 
around them. Rook pealed forth a loud, chiming greeting roar.

        <<Heloooooo, ladies!!!! What...>>> The air was suddenly full of
racing dragons. Rook dove and squirmed as huge shapes scattered, barely 
missing him. Behind and above, the lead dragon voiced a throaty roar,
taunting the rest. 

        <<It's a mating flight! I will win her!!>> Rook performed an
unbelievable maneuver, somersaulting and spreading his wings full out,
reversing direction to climb after the female.

        *Wait! You've got to let me down! I'm still strapped in! Rook!!*
B'rand knew it was too late. The dragon was ignoring him completely, and
he was already feeling the heat in his loins, the excitement...Rook 
had flown many mating flights, even winning once or twice with his
 aerial acrobatics, but the bond that B'rand had felt during those
flights was nothing compared to the closeness he was feeling now. Maybe
because he was actually physically touching Rook, he would never know.
B'rand's stomach flip-flopped as Rook pulled his wings in and turned.

        The female made a quick dive, losing most of the climbing males.
Rook made the dive, but was not prepared for the crowd of males still
rushing upward. B'rand felt the impact, a starburst of pain in his
abdomen, as Rook collided with one of the males. The other glided away,
roaring his pain and anger, as Rook spiraled down out of control,
B'rands white-knuckled grip behind his head.  A torn riding
strap flapped behind, unwittingly sliced apart by an errant claw.

        B'rand saw the ground coming up quickly. *Rook?!?*

        At the last moment, Rook stretched out his wings and braked.
But not enough; they landed with a thud, and B'rand was thrown over
Rook's neck. The other riding strap, still attached to his leg, stretched
then broke with a twang, like an untuned harp string. B'rand tucked in, 
flipped, then cartwheeled as he touched the ground, running back to his
dragon as his feet touched.

        Rook turned a baleful eye to him, big as B'rand's head. <<I'm
sorry, my soul-mate.>>

        *You're sorry? Sorry?!? Are you out of your mind? You could have
gotten us both killed! Can't you for once, just once! think with your
brain and not with your-*

        <<I think I'm hurt.>>

        B'rand's rant shut off immediately. *Where?*

        <<My right hind leg.>> 

        B'rand carefully examined the appendage. *It's just a sprain,
I think. There's no break. Can you move it?*

        Rook tried it gingerly. <<Yes, I can. I am sorry, B'rand.>>

        B'rand sighed. Looking up, he could see the closer inhabitants
of the warren running towards them. *Don't worry about it. It's just
another typical day...*  

NRPG: If anybody wants, tag! *grin*

                        Allen E. Veazey
                        wolf@dbtech.net

     "I have made this letter longer than usual, only because
      I have not had the time to make it shorter."
                --Blaise Pascal, Provincial Letters