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the Light. He grew to the size of a giant! No, fire came from his mouth!
    Of course, there were those who thought it was all the result of too much ale and spiced wine. Wives tried to quiet their drunken husbands, which they could usually do with a hard look and the promise of unpleasant nights. But this time the men persisted. They’d seen it. Seen it with their own bleary eyes. Only a few gave in for the sake of peace, and a good night’s sleep.
    The two dragons waited for Smort to approach. At first look, he appeared angry, which is odd enough for a dragon. Then, a sly look came over his face. He knew something, and they were going to have to suffer to learn of it.
    “So, you two just fly off and leave me while I was still talking, hmm?” Smort said as he came to a halt in front of them.
    “You’re always talking, Smort!” Cloudia said with a laugh.
    “So, maybe I should not talk now about what the elders are saying about your friend!”
    “Wh-what do they say, Smort?” The young one managed to ask.
    “Perhaps Cloudia is right, -Snooter does she call you? - perhaps I’ll just say nothing.”
    “What do you want, Smort?” Cloudia asked quietly.
    “I might be persuaded to tell, if a certain female were to promise a flight with me.”
    The two friends looked at one another. Such a thing was not done! Of course, Smort was not like most dragons, but extortion was a foreign concept. For her friend’s sake, Cloudia was about to accept when...
    A loud single note was bugled, as if from a horn. But no horn could make that sound. A lone dragon’s throat sounded that note from the highest point on the cliff face. A summons. Inside his head the young one heard the call. It was for him and him alone. He must go and face the elders. If they had somehow found out about his bonding a human... all his plans would be moot.
    As he took to the air he saw Cloudia give him an encouraging look. Even better, as she turned to leave, her tail “accidentally” swatted the side of Smort’s head. Once again, he was left sputtering to himself.
    Tallon’s parents did indeed indulge in a bit of pipe smoking and maybe a mug or two of heated wine. Cruss and Maryll never had to decide whether or not to accept their son and his new predicament. He was their son, and that was that. What they discussed was how they were to deal with it. They were stubborn farm folk, and if unpredictable weather and unstable produce prices could not bring them to their knees, well then nothing could! In the end they figured to just deal with things as they happened. Of course, Cruss said he’d have to see the dragon before he’d actually believe it existed. Maryll, strong as she was, still caught herself jumping at nothing and feeling on the verge of tears at any given moment.
    She did one of those jumps when Tallon came walking into the house. Unbelievably, he looked even bigger and stronger than before. But she saw the shy smile she had loved since he was a child. Suddenly she saw him as a scared little child, and she went to him and held him close. Tears came to her eyes as Cruss moved to join them in a family embrace. Humans may not practice telepathy, but no words were needed for Tallon to know he was welcome home.
    In the days that followed, chores were done, meals were eaten, and crops were tended. To the casual eye all seemed just about the same. However, Tallon’s internal struggle went on. He had to control the violence within him. Dragons were slow to anger for good reason. If left unchecked, their emotions and their power could create havoc. Tallon worked to attain a semblance of draconic patience. It did not help that his Bondmate seemed unable or unwilling to communicate with him lately.
    Patience, he told himself. Patience.
    The young one faced the elders of the circle. These dragons were ancient, even in draconic terms. Gray muzzles faced him with stern eyes, studying him and, it seemed, catching every flaw in his being. They stood in a